Chenglei wasn't really sure what he was expecting where his parents were concerned, but - truthfully - when they ended up mostly just yelling at each other, then at him, then at Meng Yao and then, finally, sat down with the man and let him talk to them. It was kind of depressing, honestly, so Chenglei headed into his room and looked around. Nothing much here. He didn't own much, his room was small and he didn't actually have any furniture, just a mattress on the ground and a lamp next to it. That was less due to poverty - not that they had much money - and more due to the impracticality of owning much when moving so often.

His clothes were in two piles on the ground, washed and unwashed, and he started packing the washed ones into a bag, since it gave him something to do. The only other items in his room, really, were his books and manga, some of them piled up, some of them strewn about. Hey, the room didn't have a window, it was difficult not to kick things over when he got up and couldn't see a thing.