Consejero de animales

[text]

[Lesson 1] We must go to the assembly.

When her roommate A called, You Ran was wrapped in a thick quilt, baring her front teeth, her mouth wide open, looking pale and greasy, her eyes gleaming green as she stared at K.

"You Ran, are you coming to the meeting? The whole class is here, except for you," said roommate A.

You Ran quickly calculated that it was Sunday evening, the time for the entire grade to gather.

Then, she answered decisively, "No."

The reason is simple: she was waiting to steal her friend's cordyceps.

"Today is the first day of the new counselor's term, aren't you going to give him some face?" Roommate A tried to reason with her.

"If he asks, tell him my face is black and purple, I'm spitting blood, my whole body is convulsing, I'm terminally ill, and I won't live much longer." You Ran's eyes never left the computer screen.

Compared to those who set alarms to wake up in the middle of the night just to steal a blade of grass, You Ran felt that she hadn't become obsessed with K.

"Okay, I'll improvise," roommate A said before hanging up the phone.

The call lasted exactly 58 seconds.

M-Zone: My territory, my rules; my phone bill, my responsibility.

He tossed his phone onto the bed and leisurely continued staring at K.

On the page, in "Chen Apple's" garden, on the checkered grass, the unpleasant-looking cordyceps, resembling spider legs, have matured.

Leisurely, he waited for those final ten seconds.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

steal!

With her nimble hand, You Ran clicked the mouse furiously, and instantly, ten cordyceps were added to her inventory.

Humans are strange creatures. Stealing a virtual item can excite them more than forcibly kissing Putin, hitting Bush with a shoe, or removing Sarkozy's height-increasing insoles.

After finishing, he leisurely logged out, changed into his alternate account, and continued stealing.

After all, Chen Pingguo stole all eight ginseng roots that You Ran had painstakingly cultivated for more than twenty days last time, so her retaliation today is only reasonable.

You Ran doesn't think of herself as a malicious person. In high school, a girl secretly messed with her a few times, and You Ran only cursed that the girl's breasts to be one cup size smaller, just one cup size.

Of course, the girl at that time had an A-cup.

Later, You Ran's curse succeeded; the girl lost too much weight, and all that was left of her chest were a few ribs.

After the theft was over, You Ran's stomach started to rumble—she hadn't eaten dinner and was hungry.

The university You Ran attends is in a great location, right in the bustling city center, with restaurants and supermarkets everywhere, so there's no need to worry about food at all.

After changing my clothes, I leisurely left the school gate and headed straight for the nearest large supermarket. Once inside, I went straight to the instant noodle section.

For a student like You Ran who can't distinguish between grains, instant noodles are a gift from God.

But for a while, You Ran avoided noodles like the plague.

The matter is both simple and quite complicated.

When You Ran first entered university, like most girls, she felt that her task at this stage was to have a saccharine or erotic relationship.

As soon as one's mind wanders, peach blossoms scatter in all directions.

At a social gathering for students from the psychology and physical education departments, You Ran and a burly male athlete hit it off.

The two sent a hundred text messages every day, faithfully supporting the mobile company's relentless money-making activities.

After sending 30,000 text messages, the athletic guy decided to confess his feelings to You Ran.

The location was a newly opened self-service hot pot restaurant near the school. At that time, the two of them were still children and knew how to call out "that shy thing," so they just lowered their heads and ate heartily, without talking about romance.

You Ran was on a periodic diet at the time. When she was about 80% full, she suddenly realized that if she continued to remain silent, the extra three kilograms of fat on her body would stay there forever.

So, You Ran mustered her courage and adopted a roundabout tactic, deliberately asking, "Did you ask me out today for something?"

Later, You Ran thought countless times that if she hadn't chosen the wrong time to look up, perhaps she and the sports guy would have become a loving couple, living happily ever after, their love deep and enduring.

When she looked up, the athletic guy was scooping noodles out of the hot pot and slurping them up.

Upon hearing You Ran's question, the athletic man's heart raced, and he panicked. He immediately bit the noodle in half and quickly sucked it into his esophagus. However, he was too fast and too forceful, and the noodle sprayed out of his nose.

A soft, thin, white substance slowly flowed from the athlete's right nostril.

Unfortunate noodles, unfortunate sportsman.

That scene became the raw material for You Ran's nightmares for the entire next year.

You Ran remembers that at that moment, the restaurant was extremely quiet. After a long while, with a "plop," the noodles finally fell from her nostrils onto the table.

Then, the athletic guy blew his nose and answered You Ran's question: "I wanted to ask you...would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Friends around her all say that You Ran is a very strange person; there is a vacuum in one area of her brain.

She consistently ranked first in math every year, but when buying small watermelons, she complained that the seller's price of "three yuan each" was too expensive and proactively bargained down to "three for ten yuan."

She could suddenly turn around during the final sprint of the 800-meter race, clasp her hands together, mimic the pose of a protagonist unleashing a power-up in an online game, and shout "Shockwave!" causing a group of students behind her to faint from shock, while she would then be the first to reach the finish line.

Even with such a strange ease, looking at the innocent noodle on the table that seemed to be stained with a suspicious liquid, she still couldn't agree to the sports guy's request.

Thirty thousand M-Zone text messages yielded no results.

But there were further developments

……