chapter 4
The sun set, the moon rose, and the second female lead finally returned.
After lying in wait for ages, I heard movement outside the dorm room and struck an adorable pose, ready to hit her with a sugary surprise.
From her perspective, however, the scene looked like this:
She opened her door to find the hulking shadow of a gorilla lunging at her.
How utterly horrifying!
I didn’t even have time to yell “Surprise!” before she grabbed a broom and knocked me unconscious.
Yes. My future wife knocked! Me! Out! With a broom!
Just before darkness claimed me, I heard my normally calm and rational wife enunciate one crisp word:
“Fuck.”
To think I would hear her swear in this lifetime!
Was that not a kind of dirty talk? One broom-induced concussion was a small price to pay.
I blacked out in perfect contentment.
When I woke again, I was in the infirmary. The male lead stood on one side of my bed and the second female lead on the other.
The instant I opened my eyes, he leaned over me with a pillow cradled in his arms.
“You’re finally awake! Congratulations—it’s a bouncing baby pillow. Mother and pillow are both safe.”
Furious, I punched both him and the big fat pillow half a meter away.
“You lied to me! My wifey doesn’t like gorillas at all!”
He howled in pain. “I didn’t lie! She really does like gorillas!”
After watching us for some time, the second female lead hesitantly spoke.
“May I ask…why you think I like gorillas?”
The male lead looked aggrieved.
“Didn’t you go to the zoo every day for a while just to watch them?”
She pressed a hand to her forehead.
“That was an assignment for a general-education class. Our professor made us observe gorilla defecation patterns.”
I nearly passed out again.
I had assumed my wifey liked gorillas.
Apparently, what she liked was gorilla poop.
My silence was deafening.
A thousand thoughts converged into one:
The male lead’s worthless life would be my offering at the funeral of my dying love.
He scrambled to repair the damage, pinching the skin beneath my nose while asking her, “Then which do you like more, gorilla poop or her?”
I coughed up a mouthful of imaginary blood.
Excellent save, male lead. Please never save anything again.
Faced with a nauseating question that asked her to compare me to feces, she knitted her brows until they nearly formed a pretzel.
After a profound internal struggle, she answered solemnly, “Compared to poop, I still like her more.”
The male lead shook my shoulders in delight.
“Did you hear that? She said she likes you more!”
Aaaaargh! One day I was going to strangle this idiot!
Hearing my wife say she liked me made me happy, sure, but who wanted to compete with gorilla poop for her affection?
I threw myself into her arms and growled, “Wifey, never let him copy your homework again.”
The male lead looked as though five bolts of lightning had struck him at once.
“What?”
“My crimes don’t deserve a punishment this cruel! QAQ”