Under the Nest

Lin Yi was woken up by a knock on the door. No, to be precise, I was woken up by the sound of "smashing the door" - the kind of muffled sound of a whole palm hitting the door panel with some weird rhythm. Bang, bang, bang. Every sound made the iron door of the dormitory tremble. He opened his eyes with difficulty and found himself lying on the computer desk in a twisted posture. The keyboard left a row of red marks on his face, and a string of dried saliva hung from the corner of his mouth. The monitor screen had long gone black, and his unkempt appearance was reflected on the screen. I stayed up all night playing games again last night. What time is it? He took out his phone and the screen showed: 14:37. There are still more than thirty unread messages, all of which are red dots in family groups and class groups. He didn't click on it, but first looked at the time—fuck, two-thirty in the afternoon? The first period on Monday afternoon is Architectural Mechanics, Lao Zhang's class, roll call.