Otaku Translation: Honey Badger's Streaming Life C73

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When Wang Ping woke up, it was already morning the next day. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting a long strip of golden warmth across the floor at his feet. On the adjacent bed, Gu Lang—still clad only in his underwear—was sprawled out like an octopus, hugging the blanket and snoring so loudly it could rival a chainsaw.

The tip of Wang Ping’s nose had begun to scab over, itching incessantly, which made him want to scratch it constantly. Quietly stifling a yawn, he sat up on the bed and glanced around. Everything on his side of the room remained untouched from the night before: the tablet computer lying dormant at the foot of the bed, its screen dark, and the backpack behind him still undisturbed.

"Did this guy come back last night, skip turning on the light, and just crash?" Wang Ping thought as he ruffled the flattened white fur on the back of his head. He sighed with relief but also felt a pang of self-reproach. Ever since leaving the jungle, his mind seemed slower than usual. Watching that documentary must have lulled him into such deep sleep without him even realizing it.

Quickly, Wang Ping grabbed the tablet, stuffed it into his backpack, and pushed the metal case back to its original spot. Then, hopping off the bed, he scampered toward the bathroom to freshen up. One advantage of staying in a hotel compared to roughing it outdoors was the convenience of water. After using the toilet, Wang Ping washed his paws thoroughly—and not forgetting hygiene—he cleaned the fur around his rear end too. Paper towels always left him feeling unclean, often tearing into noodle-like shreds under his claws.

Of course, while performing these ablutions, Wang Ping locked the bathroom door securely, ensuring the other idiot in the room wouldn’t catch sight of his less-than-dignified routine.

About half an hour later, Gu Lang finally stirred awake, groaning and stretching as he climbed out of bed. Under Wang Ping’s scrutinizing gaze—now perched on the opposite bed, drying his fur in the sunlight—Gu Lang shuffled into the bathroom, scratching his butt lazily. After splashing some water on his face, he began shaving with a disposable razor provided by the hotel, acting as though nothing unusual had transpired the previous night.

"Could it be that he really didn’t notice?"

Given how well Wang Ping believed he understood Gu Lang, if the man had discovered anything amiss last night, there was no way he’d be able to act so nonchalant now. From waking up to greeting Wang Ping and going about his morning routine, Gu Lang appeared completely natural, putting Wang Ping somewhat at ease.

For Wang Ping, being accustomed to considering situations from others’ perspectives was generally beneficial—it helped avoid conflicts and consider aspects one might otherwise overlook. However, this method wasn’t foolproof, especially when applied to someone whose thought processes were far from ordinary.

Wang Ping couldn’t fathom that Gu Lang’s calm demeanor stemmed from the fact that he simply hadn’t given much thought to Wang Ping playing with the tablet. Having grown up watching countless videos of cats mastering games or dogs performing incredible tricks, Gu Lang found nothing particularly surprising about animals interacting with technology. Plus, back home, his grandmother kept a mischievous dog that routinely ran errands for her, fetching groceries and taking out the trash. Thus, Gu Lang harbored a unique understanding of animal intelligence.

What intrigued Gu Lang most, however, was the posture Wang Ping adopted while operating the tablet with his tail. Did the tail extend from behind, or did it snake between his legs?

The mental images conjured up during the night had nearly caused Gu Lang to laugh himself into spasms beneath the covers. He even entertained the idea of teaching Wang Ping a few characters once they returned home. After all, wasn’t Wang Ping supposed to be exceptionally smart? Learning to read shouldn’t pose much of a challenge, right?

And so, each harboring their own secret thoughts, the duo packed up and headed out. Gu Lang tucked Wang Ping back into the backpack and carried the suitcase to check out of the hotel. Staying overnight at a centrally located four-star hotel cost Gu Lang 400 RMB—a veritable fortune locally but comparable to budget hotels during peak tourist seasons back home. This stark contrast in pricing once again reminded him of Africa’s affordability.

However, aside from the low prices, Gu Lang held little affection for the cities here. Beyond a handful of distinctive urban centers, most cities worldwide shared a monotonous sameness: streets clogged with cars, hurried pedestrians, towering skyscrapers, and air thick with exhaust fumes and smog. They resembled patches of moss clinging to Earth’s surface.

Typically, such cities failed to ignite any desire in Gu Lang to explore further.

Crossing the street, they entered the train station opposite. Presenting his passport, Gu Lang purchased a one-way ticket to Dar es Salaam. With the station attendants observing silently, he casually placed his luggage on the security scanner and walked through the checkpoint, the backpack containing Wang Ping slung securely over his shoulder.

The security officer waved a metal detector over Gu Lang briefly, eyeing the seemingly innocuous backpack. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided against asking Gu Lang to place the backpack on the conveyor belt.

Sometimes, these subtle interactions revealed much about a country’s attitude toward Chinese visitors. In nations like Tanzania, where China had invested heavily in infrastructure, despite occasional scandals, there remained a notable degree of leniency extended to Chinese nationals.

This leniency was evident in Gu Lang’s recent illegal checkpoint crossing, which had been downgraded to a mere traffic violation. Nevertheless, this didn’t mean Chinese citizens could act recklessly. Serious crimes would still result in swift justice, with embassy officials cooperating fully with local law enforcement.

Unbeknownst to Gu Lang, his upcoming visit to the embassy wouldn’t involve commendations but rather a stern reprimand.

Tanzania had two main railway lines—the TAZARA Railway and the Central Line—neither of which the country had built independently. Both were the result of international collaboration and foreign aid. Consequently, many of Tanzania’s train stations, particularly along the TAZARA Railway, bore distinct Chinese architectural influences.

With Wang Ping riding comfortably in the backpack and Gu Lang lugging the suitcase, they boarded a train that, though not green-painted, evoked memories of old-fashioned locomotives. Two hours later, they arrived at the central station in Dar es Salaam.

As the nation’s former capital and primary port city, Dar es Salaam presented a markedly better urban landscape than Dodoma. Perhaps this was due to the lingering presence of numerous government offices refusing to relocate. Despite Tanzania officially moving its capital over forty years ago, Dar es Salaam continued to enjoy the status and privileges of a capital city, evident in everything except official maps highlighting Dodoma’s prominence.

Here, railway lines converged from all directions, forming a bustling hub for cargo transit rather than merely passing through as in Dodoma. The disparity in development was reflected in the price differences too. Upon exiting the station, Gu Lang inquired about rates at two nearby hotels. A dingy single room lacking Wi-Fi demanded over 600 RMB—akin to highway robbery.

It wasn’t that Gu Lang lacked funds nearing his return home; rather, he loathed the idea of being fleeced. Eventually, he contacted Zhang Jianming, who recommended a five-star hotel near the embassy. Booking a sea-view suite overlooking the ocean, Gu Lang noted that the embassy district featured stunning coastal views and pristine beaches vastly different from inland areas. No wonder government offices clung stubbornly to this location.

Inside the hotel room, a diligent staff member assisted with Gu Lang’s luggage, departing happily after receiving a generous tip. Zhang Jianming wasted no time launching into a lecture about Gu Lang’s tardiness.

"If you’d arrived yesterday, you might’ve had a chance to meet the ambassador. He’s quite concerned about your situation," Zhang remarked, settling into the living area facing the beach while Gu Lang prowled the room, checking for hidden cameras.

"Oh, come on, what are you afraid of? Someone filming you?" Zhang chided lightly.

Before Zhang could finish, Gu Lang set down the backpack he’d refused to let anyone else handle, releasing Wang Ping inside.

Stretching stiff limbs, Wang Ping sauntered out of the backpack with an air of disdain, surveying the surroundings from atop the coffee table.

Zhang Jianming’s words caught in his throat, his expression darkening as he pointed accusingly at Wang Ping. "What… Why did you bring it here?"

Just as Wang Ping prepared to dash toward the balcony to admire the ocean view, Zhang’s comment stopped him cold. His furry face twisted in annoyance as he turned to glare at Zhang.

"What the hell? One willing to bring, one willing to follow—what business is it of yours, old man?" Wang Ping’s piercing gaze unnerved Zhang, prompting him to lower his accusing finger awkwardly.

"You need to release it… Let it go! I’m telling you, this thing bites!" Zhang exclaimed anxiously.

"Brother Zhang, please stop talking. He might understand you," Gu Lang interjected wearily. "Biting isn’t the issue, but getting angry enough to throw punches is entirely possible."

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