Bai Lu looked up, wanting to smile at Jun Ye to show she got his joke. But after finishing his own not-itchy-not-painful cold joke, Jun Ye flopped onto the bed, twisted on the lamp, and got ready to flip through a few pages of a fairy tale as a sleeping pill.
He'd just been working in the study, had to stay fully focused and couldn't afford to get drowsy. Fairy tales and novels, on the other hand, were his standard sedatives. No wonder his younger sister said he didn't have a single trace of artistic talent.
Fine, Jun Ye admitted he really didn't have any artistic talent. Which was why he and his grandma and his sister had always been in a state of mutual hostility.
People who do art and people who do science, they use opposite sides of the brain—how could they not be constantly at odds.
