“He Yu! Did you use me as your muse?” The range hood was too loud. “What?” He Yu asked. “I said! Did you! Use me! As your muse?!” Xie Xue brought his laptop out. “For the Xie-laoshi in this ghost story!” “Oh.” He fell silent for a while before cracking an egg with a smile. “Yep. You’re exactly the person I imagined. Art imitates reality, Xie-laoshi.” “But you wrote that you were secretly in love with me?” “…Art is not the same as reality, Xie-laoshi.”
