In the end, the skull processed by magic didn't stick out its pitch-black tongue at Zheng Qing.
The attention of the young scholarship student was soon caught by the low-level conversation between Thomas and Hilda.
"... If you ask me, it's our bad luck. Who arranged the duty schedule? Trouble is brewing every other day this month, I never get a moment of peace..." Hilda had been complaining non-stop since earlier.
From his indications, because he was assigned extra duty this month, a good deal of paperwork had accumulated.
"At best you are just needing to write some reports, it's not that difficult." Thomas console him in a gentle voice, while also instructing Zheng Qing to select and hand him the appropriate forceps.
