Eating Chicken Legs

On Liu Muye’s tray were two meat dishes, and even the stir-fried cauliflower had slices of pork belly mixed in. In stark contrast, Han Juyou’s bowl was entirely vegetarian, creating a vivid juxtaposition between their meals.

“I can’t finish this chicken leg. Have one,” Liu Muye said, transferring one of the two drumsticks from his bowl to Han Juyou’s.

Han Juyou glanced at Liu Muye’s tray and frowned. “You’ve barely touched your food, and you’re already full?”

Liu Muye rolled his eyes. “I have a small appetite. Got a problem with that?”

“Oh, mighty Young Master Liu, how could I possibly object?” Han Juyou retorted, tossing an exaggerated eye-roll his way.

Liu Muye leaned in closer. “You just rolled your eyes at me. Clearly, you do have a problem.”

Flustered by his sudden proximity, Han Juyou averted her gaze. “D-don’t get so close! Men and women shouldn’t be so familiar!”

Huh? Why’s she blushing?

Noticing her embarrassment, Liu Muye settled back into his seat and resumed eating.

Han Juyou finished every last bite of her meal before picking up the chicken leg with her chopsticks. Eyeing its modest size, she grumbled, “Why’s this drumstick so tiny?”

“No idea,” Liu Muye said, holding up his own half-eaten drumstick. “I even gave you the bigger one. Mine’s even smaller.”

After a thoughtful pause, Han Juyou nodded. “I know why.”

“Why?” Liu Muye looked up at her.

Han Juyou lowered her voice and gestured toward the cafeteria counter. “It’s because you didn’t call the lunch lady ‘pretty sister.’ She probably gave you a smaller one on purpose.”

Liu Muye scratched his head. “What’s wrong with calling her ‘auntie’?”

“You just don’t get it,” Han Juyou said, grinning. “If you sweet-talk her, she’ll heap extra portions onto your plate—and pick out the biggest drumstick for you.”

Liu Muye scoffed. “As if I’d stoop to flattery for a measly meal.”

Han Juyou sighed in mock despair. “Honestly, how have you not starved to death?”

The chefs at Siliya Academy’s cafeteria were undeniably skilled—even mass-produced dishes like the braised drumsticks were tender, flavorful, and fall-off-the-bone tender.

As Han Juyou nibbled on the drumstick, Liu Muye stole a few glances at her.

She claims not to like chicken legs, but here she is, devouring it like a content little kitten. Looks like she’s enjoying it.

Suppressing a smile, Liu Muye looked away…

After lunch, Liu Muye accompanied Han Juyou to the campus card top-up station at Siliya Academy to deposit a thousand yuan.

The cash recharge counter was not in the cafeteria, but at a separate window in the logistics department of the school's residential area.

Most students topped up their cards via mobile apps for convenience, so the physical window was usually deserted. At noon, the repair service line stretched out the door, but the card top-up station stood empty—no waiting required. Han Juyou handed over her campus card and cash, and the transaction was completed instantly.

“Here,” Han Juyou said, thrusting the card at Liu Muye. “It’s got 1,002.33 yuan now. You’re in charge of it—don’t lose it.”

Liu Muye pushed it back. “Keep it yourself. I’m not babysitting your card. Later.”

“Hey, wait—”

But Liu Muye didn’t give her a chance to protest, striding off without a backward glance.

Han Juyou watched his retreating figure but didn’t chase after him.

She could have caught up—but she didn’t want to. Or perhaps, she hadn’t truly wanted to hand him the card in the first place. If she kept it, she’d have an excuse to invite him to meals.

But if Liu Muye had taken it, she’d have felt awkward asking him to dine together—after all, the money wasn’t hers.

Though they’d agreed to share the card’s funds, a girl’s pride was at stake. How could she spend what wasn’t rightfully hers?

Unbeknownst to her, Liu Muye had the same thought. He’d rushed off precisely because he feared Han Juyou would hesitate to join him for meals if the card—and its balance—were entirely in his hands.

...

The moment Liu Muye returned to his dorm, he spotted Nangong Ye seated at the dining table, meticulously cutting into a small steak while sipping red wine.

Before Liu Muye could speak, Nangong Ye addressed him first: “I threw out your cup noodles. The empty cup’s in the trash bin in the living room. I had someone take the garbage down earlier.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Liu Muye replied flatly, unsurprised—it never crossed his mind that Nangong Ye might’ve eaten the noodles. In his mind, Nangong Ye was too refined for such plebeian fare.

Nangong Ye studied Liu Muye’s calm expression. “You’re not upset that I tossed your noodles?”

“Huh? Why would I be?” Liu Muye blinked. “Instant noodles are only good right after they’re made. Once they’ve bloated in water, they’re basically garbage. Even if you hadn’t thrown them out, I’d have done it myself after getting back.”

“I see.” Nangong Ye nodded solemnly.

“Yeah,” Liu Muye affirmed. On the subject of instant noodles, he spoke from experience.

“Um…” Nangong Ye hesitated, then fell silent.

“Did you want to say something else?” Liu Muye asked.

“Well…” Nangong Ye wavered before shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“Alright. I’m gonna nap.” With that, Liu Muye retreated to his room.

Their bedrooms faced each other across the hallway—Nangong Ye’s on the left, Liu Muye’s on the right.

The single room was cramped, furnished with just a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Still, having a private dorm room was a luxury compared to Liu Muye’s undergrad days at Sunan University, where he’d shared a six-person bunk-bed unit with zero personal space.

As Liu Muye’s door clicked shut, Nangong Ye exhaled in relief. He’d been on the verge of confessing that he’d eaten the noodles but couldn’t bring himself to admit it.

Now, staring at his steak, Nangong Ye found it bland by comparison. As absurd as it sounded, he’d genuinely preferred the instant noodles.

Little did Liu Muye know, that abandoned cup of noodles had inadvertently sparked an unexpected new craving in Nangong Ye.

...