He Qing lay on the bed, in the pitch-dark dormitory, her gaze fixed on the empty ceiling, without turning her head towards the sound coming from the window.
The dormitory's window screen was somewhat old, and its track was not very smooth. She listened intently, the creature appearing to be not very large, currently struggling to push it open bit by bit—it took a long time to move just one centimeter, which was undeniably arduous.
It would probably not open any time soon... He Qing closed her eyes again. She operated that window daily, so she was well-aware that if it moved less than a centimeter, there would be a slight jam.
This small obstacle was indeed too minor, negligible for a human, but for a small creature...
Well, it was quite busy with it.
These days, who had it easy when they were out and about?
Sighing about it, another two or three minutes passed. In the quiet night, those two or three centimeters must have felt like an eternity.
