The dinner rush at the cafeteria was a cacophony of voices, the mingled aromas of various foods blending with the noisy chatter into a thick, steaming haze.
Long lines snaked in front of the service windows, the clatter of stainless steel trays ringing out.
Ruo Xiaozhen practically half-pushed, half-dragged Yan Yu’s wheelchair inside.
With practiced ease, she found a corner table against the wall, settled Yan Yu, then dove headfirst into the bustling crowd to get their food.
“Wait for me, Xiao Yu! They have sweet and sour pork ribs today! You’ll love them!”
Her voice cut through the din, full of energy.
Leaning back in her wheelchair, Yan Yu watched Ruo Xiaozhen’s nimble figure weave through the crowd, feeling somewhat dazed.
She remembered the bland liquid diets that had been her main sustenance during her final days in the hospital bed.
Everything before her now—this noisy, steaming, vibrant scene—felt both foreign and vividly alive.
Before long, Ruo Xiaozhen returned, carrying two heavily laden trays.
She plopped them onto the table with a thud, making the soup slosh.
“Here! Yours: sweet and sour pork ribs, stir-fried broccoli, mapo tofu—less spicy—and steamed egg! Mine, hehe: braised pork, spicy chicken, plus some tiger skin peppers!”
She counted them off proudly on her fingers, eyes sparkling.
“The auntie’s hand wasn’t shaky today! She gave us a solid portion of meat!”
Yan Yu looked at the mountain of food before her and fell silent for a moment.
The pork ribs glistened with a rich, sweet and sour sauce.
The broccoli was a vibrant green, the tofu tender and smooth, the steamed egg as smooth as a mirror.
All flavors Yan Yu remembered preferring.
Ruo Xiaozhen… remembered very clearly.
“Eat, eat!”
Ruo Xiaozhen had already picked up her chopsticks, shoveling a big mouthful of rice.
Her cheeks puffed out as she began to complain, her words muffled.
“Ugh, I’m telling you, that three-dimensional composition assignment Mrs. Chen gave today is downright inhuman! ‘Use a single material to express contradiction and harmony,’ and it needs to have a ‘sense of flow’! I’m about to pull all my hair out! Paper? No good! Wood? Too heavy! Wire? Too stiff! Ahhh, it’s so annoying…”
As she spoke, she gestured animatedly, her expressions exaggerated and vivid, as if that assignment was the biggest trouble in the world.
Yan Yu picked up her chopsticks and took a piece of pork rib.
The sweet and sour sauce coated the tender, fall-off-the-bone meat, the flavor rich and intense.
She ate in small bites, occasionally uttering an “Mhm” to show she was listening.
Under the bright cafeteria lights, Ruo Xiaozhen’s round face was flushed, a fine sheen of sweat on her temples.
This kind of trivial complaining gave Yan Yu a strange sense of peace.
At least for this moment, she didn’t have to think about role-playing or calculating.
“…So you see, studying design is a life-shortening endeavor!”
Ruo Xiaozhen delivered her concluding statement, took a big gulp of the free seaweed and egg drop soup, and let out a long sigh.
Then, as if remembering something, she fished her phone from her pocket, unlocked it, and habitually started scrolling.
It was at that moment Yan Yu’s phone, resting on the table, vibrated softly.
The screen lit up, displaying a brief message preview.
Sender: Su Qinghan.
The fingers holding Yan Yu’s chopsticks paused almost imperceptibly.
Ruo Xiaozhen’s gaze also flickered over, catching the name.
The smile vanished from her face instantly, her brow furrowing, her eyes filled with unconcealed wariness and disgust.
Yan Yu set down her chopsticks and picked up her phone, unlocking it.
The message was short, just one line, carrying Su Qinghan’s usual icy brevity:
[Don’t make things difficult for Muyun. She just returned to the country and needs time to adjust.]
Yan Yu stared at the words for two seconds.
Make things difficult for Jiang Muyun?
She tilted her head slightly, a trace of confusion appearing on her pale face.
What had she done today, besides being “utterly crushed” in class and “ignored” by the lake, that could be considered “making things difficult” for Miss Jiang?
Could it be that breathing the same air had polluted the pristine atmosphere around Miss Jiang?
She tapped her fingertip on the screen and sent back a question mark.
Almost the next second, Su Qinghan’s reply came.
This one was longer, the words between the lines exuding impatience, as if scolding a misbehaving, unreasonable child:
[Yan Yu, stop pretending in front of me.]
[I heard from other classmates that you had some negative comments about Muyun’s return, said some inappropriate things behind her back, leading some classmates to form a poor impression of her.]
[Yan Yu, know your limits. What’s between us is over. I don’t want Muyun to feel any unhappiness at school because of you. She’s simple-minded, not like you.]
Yan Yu’s fingertip rested on the cold screen.
Said inappropriate things behind her back?
Led classmates to form a poor impression of Jiang Muyun?
Her mind quickly flashed back to the afternoon by the lake, to Bai Yan’er’s pointed rebuttals, and to Jiang Muyun’s face at that moment—so embarrassed she could barely maintain her smile.
Oh.
I see.
So Miss Jiang’s “simple-mindedness” manifested as not speaking up directly when wronged, but instead taking a roundabout route, running to Su Qinghan and using the catch-all phrase “I heard from other classmates” to lodge a subtle, indirect complaint.
And Su Qinghan, this aloof female lead, lived up to expectations, placing the blame without question, directly pinning the hat of “slandering behind her back, making things difficult for the real one” onto her, the substitute.
“Not like you.”
These three words were used so well, so masterfully.
With a light touch, they nailed her to the pillar of shame as “scheming,” “jealous,” and “petty.”
A wave of thick, mocking laughter rose from her stomach all the way to her throat.
Yan Yu could even feel the residual instincts of this body, the rejection emanating from the heart area upon reading these words.
But now, she was the one occupying this body.
She slowly took a deep breath, suppressing that wave of physiological discomfort.
When she lifted her eyes again, those eyes, usually carrying a touch of sickness and seven parts aloofness, had quickly misted over with a thin layer of moisture.
She bit her lower lip, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed on the screen.
[Qinghan, how could you think of me like that? I didn’t… I never said anything bad about Jiang. This afternoon during the sketching session, I was just painting by myself the whole time. Only Yan’er came over to talk to me for a bit, and we were far away from everyone else. Could it be… could it be some misunderstanding?]
[Besides, it’s normal for Yan’er to look for me. After all, Yan’er is my sister…]
She hit send.
She put down the phone, raised her hand, and pressed the back of it against her forehead, her shoulders slumping slightly.
Ruo Xiaozhen had been watching her intently.
Seeing her like this, she felt both anxious and furious, her fists clenched tightly.
She lowered her voice, seething, “What did she say to you this time? Is it because of that Jiang Muyun again, bullying you? Yan Yu, don’t pay her any mind! She’s just a—”
“Zhenzhen,” Yan Yu interrupted her, putting her hand down.
Her voice was very soft, the rims of her eyes seeming even redder.
“I’m fine… Maybe… maybe I really did something wrong somewhere, making her misunderstand.”
As she spoke, she picked up her chopsticks again, aiming for a piece of pork rib that had already cooled.
She deliberately made her hand shake badly, failing to pick it up twice.
Finally, she gave up, slowly setting down the chopsticks, her gaze empty as she looked out at the bustling crowd in the cafeteria.
That appearance of forcing down sadness while still making excuses for the other person felt like a blunt knife cutting into Ruo Xiaozhen’s heart, making it ache fiercely.
“You…”
Ruo Xiaozhen was so angry her chest heaved.
She wanted to curse, but was afraid of upsetting Yan Yu further.
In the end, she could only slam the table hard with a fist, making the dishes clatter.
“…Eat! It won’t taste good if it gets cold!”
She picked up a large piece of braised pork from her own tray and plopped it into Yan Yu’s bowl, saying fiercely, “Eat it! No leftovers allowed!”
Yan Yu looked at the extra piece of braised pork in her bowl, then lifted her gaze to Ruo Xiaozhen’s face, full of heartache.
She gave a soft “Mhm,” picked up her chopsticks again, and began eating the braised pork, taking small, delicate bites.
It was ordinary.
But solid.
The phone screen darkened, lying quietly by the edge of the table, not lighting up again.
Su Qinghan did not reply.