Mason Jian looked out the window and said, "Forget it. I sat there for five minutes before I left."
As soon as he opened the door, he could see Jane Eyre lying on the sofa with her eyes wide open. Ethan Wang squatted over and looked at Jane Eyre, sighing, "Can the TV be timed? Turn it on at a fixed time in the future. You see how pitiful it is to wait like this."
Mason Jian went to the kitchen to heat up some food, then she remembered and called out, "How was your show today?"
Ethan Wang thought this was a question, so he lingered to the kitchen door, leaned against the door frame with his arms folded, and said, "Nothing happened. I played football. It was fun after not playing for a long time. But it was inconvenient to carry someone on my back, and I fell."
"Where did you fall?" Mason Jian's eyes were like instruments, scanning Ethan Wang from head to toe. After making sure that he was not injured, he complained again: "Why are you carrying him on your back when you are playing football? You are sick."
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