During dinner, Baiyu seemed constantly on edge. What exactly had she lost?

If it was something important, shouldn’t she have kept it safe?

I probed gently a few times, only earning eye rolls and a sharp "None of your business." Clearly, it was something she couldn’t tell me. Understandable—girls have private things.

After dinner, I retreated to my room to work.

I still had no solid ideas for the new Volume 6. For now, I was just salvaging usable parts from the draft. But in two or three days, I’d need fresh storylines. Normally, I’d outline everything first—but my well of inspiration had run dry. No matter how hard I strained, no fun ideas came. One step at a time, I guess.

After half an hour of writing, I stretched and headed out to use the bathroom.

The moment I opened my door, Baiyu was pacing the corridor right outside my room. She flinched visibly when she saw me.

*Why’s she here at this hour?*

"You’re not streaming tonight?" I asked, puzzled.

"N-not in the mood. Taking a break today."

"Oh. Okay."

I gave a noncommittal reply. Maybe it was my imagination, but she kept sneaking glances into my room.

I didn’t dwell on it—my bladder was screaming. I hurried past her toward the bathroom at the far end of the hall, near her room.

Just as I passed, Baiyu called out:

"Wait."

I turned. "What is it?"

She shuffled back, head down, fingers twisting her shirt hem. "Did you... happen to see that thing today...?"

"What thing?"

"Mm..."

Her eyes darted away. She opened her mouth several times, then swallowed her words. "Forget it! Nothing!"

She shouted this while dashing back to her room.

*So weird today.*

I was concerned—but if I didn’t reach that bathroom now, I’d have my first accident since fourth grade. I sprinted away.

...

At 11 PM, I stared at the blank document on my laptop, rubbing my temples with a groan.

"Ugh. My head’s killing me."

If I couldn’t write, I’d turn into a dried-up fish.

I texted my editor, Miss Jinmu, to vent. She replied two hours later:

"Just cut it off. A sharp knife won’t hurt much. P.S. Harass me after work over trivial stuff again, and I’ll block you."

*Ruthless editor.* Always pushing writers toward the palace gates.

But novels are my own burden. Editors only advise—the real work is mine.

Today, I was truly spent. Better sleep. Class tomorrow.

As I left my room to wash up, I noticed the light still on in the downstairs study. Rustling sounds drifted out.

I called down: "Baiyu? Is that you?"

The noise stopped. After a long pause, Baiyu emerged, face blank, clutching a thick book.

"Why are you in the study so late?"

"Can’t sleep. Reading. Problem?"

"Well... not really, but—"

*You’re holding a Xinhua Dictionary. What’s there to read?*

She marched past me without a word, the *pitter-patter* of her slippers fading up the stairs.

I shook my head, baffled, and headed for the bathroom.