# New File
Playing guessing games wasn’t fun. If Feng Yan guessed wrong, Zheng Yixuan would think he was deliberately messing with him. Things had finally been quiet for two days, only to start crackling again all of a sudden.
With that thought in mind, Feng Yan sent Zheng Yixuan another message:
[If you prefer my mechanical keyboard, type 1. If you prefer the quiet keyboard, type 2. If you don’t want me to message you anymore, you can reply TD.]
Zheng Yixuan didn’t reply for at least five minutes after receiving the message, leaving Feng Yan wondering whether he hadn’t seen it or had seen it but didn’t know how to respond because he was stressed.
Maybe he wanted to choose the option of never typing again, but Feng Yan hadn’t given him that option.
Fortunately, Zheng Yixuan eventually responded, replying with the number 1.
Feng Yan almost slapped his thigh in excitement, but luckily managed to restrain himself at the critical moment. After all, the wall was extremely thin and offered no soundproofing. It was almost as if he were sitting and chatting with Zheng Yixuan in person.
Still, Feng Yan felt a little regretful. If he’d known sooner, he wouldn’t have spent over a few hundred thousand on this thing, because he personally didn’t actually like quiet keyboards. Typing had no rhythm, and it made him sleepy.
Feng Yan even had a favorite keyboard that sounded like an old typewriter, but it was just too loud. After using it to write his novel, all ten of his fingers would suffer from tenosynovitis.
Well, since typing at night was inevitable—one could even say it was an unavoidable part of his lifestyle—as a neighbor, Feng Yan could only do his best to make it bearable for both of them.
Carefully, Feng Yan took out several keyboards he often used, typed on each one a few times, numbered them as before, and asked Zheng Yixuan which keyboard sound he preferred.
‘Whichever one he chooses, I’ll be able to keep using it late into the night without feeling guilty. I’ll be working for at least three hours every day, after all.’
Zheng Yixuan’s reply arrived. He chose the keyboard with black switches and added an emoji. It was a cat emoji that had been quite popular three years ago.
Feng Yan’s curiosity was piqued, and he asked, [Do you like cats?]
Zheng Yixuan replied: [They’re okay.]
Feng Yan continued typing: [I thought you were the type of person who wouldn’t use emojis.]
Zheng Yixuan replied: [They’re convenient.]
Feng Yan: [What do you mean, convenient?]
Zheng Yixuan: [I don’t have to deal with people in long sentences. I can just send an emoji.]
Seeing that answer, Feng Yan nodded as he rubbed his chin and muttered, “Makes sense.”
Feng Yan guessed that Zheng Yixuan had saved the emoji from someone else three years ago, back when he still socialized, and now only used it to deal with the strange nonsense coming from his neighbor.
Even so, Feng Yan wasn’t sure whether this was a sign of progress, but at least Zheng Yixuan was now willing to chat with Feng Yan—a stranger—and they had even gone out to eat together!
At first, before Feng Yan knew about Zheng Yixuan’s condition, there had been nothing strange about the two of them eating together. But now that he thought about it, it was incredible that Zheng Yixuan had been willing to go out with Feng Yan. He wouldn’t even speak to Auntie Lin, yet he was willing to go to a noisy restaurant with Feng Yan.
‘Then is his condition really improving?’
Unfortunately, at that moment Feng Yan remembered an article he had once read claiming that the suicide rate among people with severe depression was actually not as high as among those with moderate depression. Once depression became severe, people were too exhausted to die, unwilling to cooperate with treatment or even express a desire to die, and had lost all mobility. But after treatment, patients improved and instead became motivated to commit suicide.
Of course, this was just some random article Feng Yan had seen as a layperson. He had no idea whether it was true.
Judging by how seriously he was thinking about this, it was clear that Feng Yan really was quite interested in Zheng Yixuan. This interest wasn’t purely benevolent; it might also have been tinged with curiosity about an abnormal person, or even a little savior complex.
At the same time, he didn’t dare act recklessly, unsure whether his actions made Zheng Yixuan feel warm or annoyed.
They had chatted quite a lot that day. At least in Feng Yan’s opinion, the conversation should have had no limits. But to avoid annoying Zheng Yixuan, Feng Yan ended the conversation at just the right time.
Just before Feng Yan logged off, he saw the edited message. He really wanted to log off immediately and pretend he hadn’t seen it. Unfortunately, his eyes had already caught sight of it, and he would keep thinking about it for a while if he didn’t click on it.
After opening it, just as he’d expected, it was filled with revision requests. There were so many that Feng Yan regretted looking at them.
“Aaaaaaaah.” Feng Yan let out a long, agonized groan.
But long-term pain was worse than short-term pain. No one would help him with this task, even if Feng Yan put it off for the rest of his life.
“Fine. I’ll just patiently revise the plot. Is typing a few words really that hard? Hah!” Feng Yan grumbled as he stretched his fingers.
Only people who had written before understood that the main plot was like the framework for building a house. Changing the plot was the same as taking a sledgehammer to demolish a particular room in that house.
Short stories were one thing, but revising a novel was like rewriting it from the beginning. Several floors had already been built, and an editor could casually ask you to tear down the first floor and rebuild it with a single sentence.
That was exactly what happened to Feng Yan. He rebuilt a five-story building overnight, and the final battle took place at dawn.
Feng Yan was about to go to sleep at around seven when there was a knock at the door.
For some reason, he thought it was Zheng Yixuan knocking, so he opened the door curiously.
Unexpectedly, it was Auntie Lin.
“Xiao Feng! I made a lot of steamed buns this morning. Everyone in the professor’s family liked them, but this kind of steamed bun doesn’t taste good reheated. The professors only ate a little, and I was afraid the rest would go to waste, so I brought them to you.”
She shoved a large bag of steamed buns into Feng Yan’s hands.
The delicious aroma immediately filled Feng Yan’s nose. It shook him out of his drowsiness, and he quickly thanked her.
“They smell great. Thank you, Auntie Lin!”
Auntie Lin smiled and nodded before entering the house next door.
Feng Yan carried the buns inside and took them out onto the table. They really did smell mouthwatering, and suddenly reminded him of a friend whose mother was very good at making steamed buns like these. Feng Yan had been extremely envious of that friend in the past, because his own mother wouldn’t spend time on things like this. If Feng Yan said he wanted steamed buns, his mother would give him fifty thousand and tell him to go out and buy some himself.
At first, Feng Yan had been perfectly satisfied with instant noodles for breakfast, but now that there were large, hot steamed buns in front of him, he couldn’t help feeling grateful.
He excitedly took a picture of himself biting into a steamed bun and posted it to Moments to show off, then took another picture of the buns and sent it to Zheng Yixuan: [Auntie Lin is so nice. She brought me some steamed buns too.]
Feng Yan was certain that Zheng Yixuan had heard his conversation with Auntie Lin at the door.
Zheng Yixuan’s reply arrived quickly. He had also taken a picture of his own breakfast and sent it to Feng Yan.
Auntie Lin had arranged his breakfast for him. It was quite beautiful: a bowl of soup, eggs, a plate of finely cut fruit, and steamed buns. Everything had been arranged beautifully.
Feng Yan asked him: [Hey, have you ever talked to Auntie Lin?]
The answer came: [No.]
Feng Yan immediately typed rapidly: [She thinks you’re deaf and mute. If you suddenly spoke to her, you’d definitely shock her. Do you want to try?]
Zheng Yixuan’s only reply was an emoji.
But Feng Yan wasn’t so easily discouraged. He asked Zheng Yixuan again to say anything at all to Auntie Lin: [Come on, Zheng. Just say anything.]
Zheng Yixuan didn’t reply. But ten seconds later, Feng Yan, who was sitting in the living room, clearly heard Auntie Lin shout:
“Oh my God!” Then she said in shock, “You can talk?!”
As the instigator, Feng Yan desperately wanted to burst out laughing. He held it back with great difficulty, stuffing his mouth with a steamed bun so he wouldn’t laugh.