My good life - Chapter 7.2
”How many times have you told you? You can’t jump out of the window.” Li Zhi said. The little wolf snorted: “I… my rent is not on time. If the landlord calls me, I have to come in time.”
”Yeah.” Li Wei was satisfied with the reply, “Let’s go.”
The little wolf looked confused: “Where?”
I don’t know what they are going to do, but I am a weak chicken-human. I did not want to follow them and drag them down only to support them to avenge their hatred. Li Wei, wearing pajamas, walked in front. With his sister, his subordinates, his cat, they proceeded to the battlefield in front of the park.
”What are they doing?” Yu Meimei from the third floor, peeked her head from the window. She was brushing her teeth.
”Go to fight.”
”Huh?” Yu Meimei asked me, “In pajamas? At their sleeping time? The landlord must have despised the enemy to arrange a fight in a casual place? t’s daytime.”
I looked at their disappearing backs for a while: “This scene is so intense! I have to go back and draw!”
”Ha? Intense? Pajamas hero? Would your reader like the casual fight?”
I didn’t pay attention to her words. I ran back to the room and sat to draw my update. However, two of my sketches were unfinished. Li Wei came back. The wolf yawned and walked beside him while blackie had fallen asleep. Dumboi accompanied Li Zi in her arms like a dog mountain.
I thought that this was probably the end of the matter. Who was the black man? Why didn’t he attack us? Anyway, Li Wei was checking the matter. But I did not expect the next day that Li Zhi would have shoulder pain.
She came to me and took off her clothes. I looked at her right shoulder and didn’t dare to squeeze her hand.
”Come with you, didn’t you take a shower yesterday.”
”…It was so tired yesterday, my coffin didn’t open, I slept on the sofa. What’s wrong, is it dirty?”
”No.” I held the mirror before her. “If you had taken a shower, you would have seen this.”
Li Zhi turned her head, saw her own back in the mirror, and screamed: “What is this?”
There was a dark red mark on her right shoulder shaped like a child’s bloody handprint. The fingers had bloody lines. Building up the courage, I pulled out a paper, smashed it into a ball, and rubbed her skin…
”Can’t wipe it off. It’s not your blood, it’s this mark.” My heart pumped, scared like in a ghost film. “Yesterday, when you pushed me, were you hit by the black man?”
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