Related thematic articles: Untitled Document - When Wen Jing called me, I was sleeping exceptionally soundly in my bed, stretching lazily and feeling as though my bed was the whole world. Actually, my bed is indeed quite large. I only have two hobbies: reading free novels, watching movies, and sleeping. If someone stops me from sleeping when I'm extremely tired, it would be better if they just killed me; that way, I would certainly feel grateful. So naturally, I made my bed as comfortable as possible. I once told my mom that if I marry one day, I must bring this bed with me. Therefore, Wen Jing's call made me feel particularly annoyed. In the dream that her call interrupted, I was holding a small washbasin standing on an open ground where money was falling like rain from the sky, and I was happily catching the money. So it felt as though Wen Jing had blocked my path to wealth.
I picked up the phone and said to her, "You wretch, you've stopped me from making money again. Are you writing something again, my young literary friend?" I write things; it's true. By sheer luck, I accidentally published a few books, for which Wen Jing has mocked me countless times. These days, literary youths seem rarer than virgins. I ignored her and said, "What do you want? After you're done talking nonsense, I'll go back to sleep." You've already become as fat as a pig, are you also going to act like one? It's five o'clock in the afternoon; are you taking a nap or what? You talk too much, say what you want quickly. Nothing, I just want you to come out for dinner. I'll pick you up downstairs in thirty minutes."
After getting up, I took a shower and got dressed. The long-term dormitory life during college made me efficient like a newly trained female soldier. Looking at myself in the mirror, I thought that Wen Jing actually said something true: I am fat like a pig. At this rate of sleeping day and night, gaining another 30-50 pounds isn't impossible. Before leaving, I looked in the mirror again and realized I had swollen from sleeping. I laughed, realizing why I seemed fatter.
When I got downstairs, Wen Jing hadn't arrived yet. I leisurely read the newspaper posted by the community aunties, detailing the deeds of model workers from all over the country. Someone saved a child from the rooftop again, someone else cleared the sewer for the public without charging a cent. I wondered why such events happen everywhere except around me. Last month, when the sewer was blocked, there was a sanitation worker who was both enthusiastic and patient, treating the public like spring breeze and smiling like a flower. How could he not smile when every household gave him fifty bucks, making his mouth crooked with joy?
While reading the newspaper, Wen Jing arrived by taxi. Surprisingly, I heard her voice before the car's sound from afar. She opened the car door without even glancing at me and simply said, "Get in," then continued chatting with the driver. After getting in, I asked the driver, "Driver, are you related to her?" The driver chuckled awkwardly and said, "How could that be? The girl talks a lot." I had no objections. Wen Jing is always talkative wherever she goes. Her mother originally named her hoping she'd be quiet, but fate didn't comply. However, I like this kind of girl who speaks her mind. I fear those who don't say anything and just smile at you, their sinister smiles capable of bringing out your knee arthritis.
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