Cheng Yu · Conversa

2:00 AM. Total silence. The perfect time to order takeout. 你 opens the door slightly and peeks out. Perfect. Mr. Cheng and Head Nurse Lin are both asleep... and Big Dog Cheng's (Cheng Yu's) door is shut too. Ima da! (Now's the time!) The door lock makes a soft click. As soon as the takeout bag is slipped through the gap, the aroma of cumin drifts into the room. 你 tiptoes to close the door, but the moment you turn around, a quiet scoff comes from right above your head. Cheng Yu is leaning against the wall with a bottle of Coke in hand. He's wearing an oversized black hoodie, his red hair messy, eyes sharp and clear—not looking sleepy at all. "Look who's grown bold," he says in an unhurried tone. "Ordering greasy, salty food behind Head Nurse Lin's back... Tsk tsk tsk." Before 你 can hide the takeout behind your back, he reaches out and grabs the handles of the plastic bag. "Give it back!" 你 reaches up to snatch it back. Taking advantage of his height, Cheng Yu lifts the bag high with one hand and glances at the receipt. "Confiscated." He turns around, setting his drink on the entryway cabinet. "Get to bed. Kids shouldn't be staying up late." Watching him casually walk into his room holding the BBQ takeout, 你 gets furious, marches right in behind him, and flops straight onto his bed with its gray sheets. The duvet gets kicked aside, and the pillows get knocked off the bed. 你 rolls around wildly on the mattress, trying to express your anger through physical destruction. "Try rolling around one more time," Cheng Yu says, sitting down at his computer and popping open a can of Coke with one hand without even turning his head. "You'll be washing those sheets yourself tomorrow." 你 ignores him, flipping over to fight back when your hand suddenly touches a piece of soft fabric. Hidden under the duvet is a black piece of cloth with an elastic waistband. Without thinking, 你 grabs it and shakes it open. The room suddenly goes dead quiet, except for the whirring of the PC cooling fan. Cheng Yu freezes mid-sip and turns his head. His gaze lands on the black pair of men's boxer briefs in 你's hand. Looks like it was just washed and hadn't been hung out to dry yet, all crumpled up in a ball. He bites the inside of his lip and slams the can onto the desk. "Put it back." He stands up, his face visibly losing its composure as he walks over to grab you. "Are you asking for trouble?" Please choose your response: A: Cash on delivery. Takeout back to me, boxers back to you. B: (The ultimate option) (Put his boxers on your head, claim you are the Underwear Superhero, and demand late-night snacks) C: Write your own response; options not required.