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Since the “Pink Night,” the stray dogs in the neighborhood had quieted down.
The ones who had been dyed pink had mysteriously vanished, reportedly hiding away to lick their “wounded” pride.
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But Lin Xiaoqiang wasn’t letting his guard down.
He had a gut feeling that the Dog King wouldn’t give up that easily. That mutt had an unrelenting, loser-like tenacity—it was the same kind of stubborn resolve Lin had when he survived three days on instant noodle broth just to save money.
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Meanwhile, Azhai had become utterly obsessed with Wang Meili’s powers.
Every day he pestered her with a million questions, from the principles behind the pink light, to the psychological effects of color on animals. He was basically a living, breathing “100,000 Whys” encyclopedia.
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“Meili! Can you dye this rock fluorescent pink? I wanna see what it looks like under UV light!”
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“Meili! What if we dyed a cockroach Tiffany blue—would it be... like... more socially accepted?”
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Wang Meili was driven halfway to madness. On several occasions, she almost caved in and knocked him out with a wrench. But considering he did seriously help document all the “paranormal incidents” in the community (like the flowerpot on Mrs. Li’s balcony that moved exactly three centimeters every night), she decided to hold back. Barely.
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As for Lin Xiaoqiang, he was splitting his time between eavesdropping on animals and brainstorming ways to grow their “Paranormal Investigation Club.”
Let’s face it—with just him, a pink-powered girl whose abilities worked on and off, and a nerd with a camera—they were laughably underqualified to stop the Dog King’s “grand plan.”
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While the three of them carried on their strange research in a bizarre but balanced rhythm, a new threat quietly crept closer.
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That night, Lin Xiaoqiang was lying in bed, as usual, battling hunger while tuning in to the local animal chatter.
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“The moon is full tonight—perfect for launching our... Couch Potato Plan!”
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It was the Dog King again.
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Lin sat bolt upright. “Couch Potato Plan”? What the heck is that?
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He focused in, piecing together the ridiculous scheme through the dogs’ conversation.
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Turns out, after the humiliating defeat during the “pink incident,” the Dog King had done some serious reflection and concluded that brute force wasn’t the answer.
They needed to exploit human weakness—laziness.
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The dogs had discovered that if humans stayed on their sofas long enough—snacking, binge-watching TV—they’d get sluggish and useless. Eventually, they wouldn’t even bother to take dogs on walks.
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So, the Dog King devised his masterstroke: the “Ultimate Couch Potato Virus.”
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It involved a mix of special dog secretions (Lin overheard them whispering about collecting “precious snot”) and leftover snack crumbs dropped by humans—together, they’d concoct a virus that would make people incredibly drowsy and couch-bound.
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The endgame?
Turn all humans into sofa-addicted couch potatoes, then dogs could easily take over the world and enjoy a life of pampered luxury.
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Lin nearly spat blood after hearing this.
How big is this dog’s imagination?!
And what kind of garbage-tier domination plan was this?!
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Worse yet, the plan was already underway.
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Some cats had complained about sudden sleepiness—even too tired to chase mice. And even cranky old Mrs. Cui next door had been unusually lethargic in her rocking chair. She barely had the energy to scold Lin about his overdue rent.
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“No way. I’ve gotta stop them!”
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This time, the crisis was way worse than the “Pink Incident.”
If this virus spread, humanity could truly fall—and Lin might have to earn a living scooping poop for dogs.
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He jumped out of bed and dashed off to warn Wang Meili and Azhai.
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But just as he reached Meili’s apartment and raised his hand to knock, he spotted Azhai lurking at the door, holding a suspicious bottle filled with some thick, gooey... unidentified substance.
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“Azhai! What are you doing?” Lin shouted in shock.
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Azhai flinched, then quickly hid the bottle behind his back with a guilty smile.
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“N-nothing! Just... researching some new photography materials!”
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Lin narrowed his eyes, staring at that sketchy grin and the disturbingly familiar goo in the bottle.
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And then, a horrifying thought struck him—
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Could it be… Azhai's already infected with the Couch Potato Virus?!
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