Finally, Hua Lang was finished.
He stood proudly in front of his masterpiece, staring down at the words he had carefully written into the flour. His name was clear, every letter recognizable, and for the first time since becoming a piglet, he felt like he had actually accomplished something.
I did it.
His little chest puffed up with pride.
I really am amazing. Of course I managed to think of this. I'm Hua Lang, after all.
He was so pleased with himself that he almost wanted to pat himself on the back.
Then he heard footsteps approaching.
Hua Lang eagerly turned around, expecting Tian.
Instead, the old man appeared around the corner, his glasses hanging loosely in one hand as he looked suspiciously at the trail of flour covering the floor.
"What is this?" he demanded. "Who spilled flour all over the store?"
Hua Lang's expression changed immediately.
Wait—
Before he could do anything, the old man stepped directly onto his writing.
