“What… what are you talking about? I don’t understand at all.”
Liu Muye’s face flushed red as he ducked under Han Juyou’s arm propped against the doorframe, hurrying downstairs while muttering, “I’m hungry, let’s go already. The cafeteria’s gonna be packed if we’re late.”
“Hey, hey, hey! Explain yourself first—why are you running away?” Han Juyou chased after him, teasing, “What are you so guilty about?”
“If you’re not guilty, then why’s your face red?”
“I—I—”
Liu Muye, too embarrassed to meet her gaze, stammered, “I’m just… a pure-hearted guy, okay? You got so close to me… of course I’d blush. Isn’t that totally normal?”
“Pfft—”
“What’s so funny?” Liu Muye shot back.
Han Juyou smirked at him. “You? A pure-hearted guy? How can you even say that with a straight face?”
“I’ve lived this long and haven’t even kissed a girl—why can’t I call myself pure-hearted?”
The moment those words left his mouth, Liu Muye sounded so indignant—it was almost pitiful.
Hearing this, a strange glint flickered in Han Juyou’s eyes, though she feigned nonchalance. “Yeah, right.”
She stared straight into his eyes. “You rich kids are wilder than anyone. No way you’re still single.”
“I’m not—”
Liu Muye nearly blurted out that he wasn’t born into wealth, but caught himself just in time—revealing that would mean exposing his identity.
So he quickly backtracked, “I’m not like those people. Don’t lump me in with them. Not all rich kids are shady, you know.”
Han Juyou blinked, then grinned. “Oh? So you’re saying you’re different from the usual rich brats?”
“Can’t you tell?” Liu Muye raised an eyebrow, oozing confidence.
“Oh, I can tell,” Han Juyou said, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. “You’re dumber than the usual ones. Pfft—hahaha!”
“Wait—you’re calling me dumb?”
Liu Muye pointed at his own face, glaring at her.
“Fine, fine. Since you ‘went out of your way’ to copy those notes for me, I’ll spare you the insult.” Han Juyou patted his shoulder. “Thanks, Young Master Liu.”
“At least you’ve got some gratitude,” Liu Muye said, hands on his hips. “But is a verbal ‘thank you’ all I get?”
Han Juyou glanced at the notebook in her hand, then shrugged. “Well… how about I treat you to McMuffin’s?”
Liu Muye frowned. “You sure your allowance can cover that?”
“None of your business!” She stuffed the notebook into her bag. “Come on, my treat.”
“…Alright.”
The McMuffin’s on campus was nestled in the shopping street between the cafeteria and the residential area.
Yes, Siliya Academy—the world’s most elite private university in this fictional setting—boasted not just a dozen cafeterias but also a bustling commercial street packed with snack shops.
And it wasn’t just food. The street housed all kinds of stores, even a luxury boutique inside one of the malls.
That’s right—if you had the money, you could buy high-end brands right on campus.
Liu Muye had originally written Siliya Academy this way to emphasize its exclusivity, subtly highlighting the male lead’s prestige—and, incidentally, making up for his own college days at Sunan University, where decent food options were sorely lacking.
As they walked to the commercial street, Han Juyou fiddled with her phone and mused, “Weird. Why isn’t there a King’s Chicken here?”
Normally, where there was a McMuffin’s, there’d be a King’s Chicken too. But for some reason, the latter hadn’t made it into the campus’s shopping street.
“Maybe… the rent negotiations with the school fell through?” Liu Muye rubbed his nose, feigning nonchalance.
The truth, of course, traced back to Liu Muye himself. While writing the novel, he’d once ordered delivery from King’s Chicken, only to find his soda missing. In a fit of pettiness, he’d left the chain out of the book entirely.
At the time, it was just a passing thought—nothing serious.
“Really?” Han Juyou nodded. “Their egg tarts and finger-lickin’ chicken are pretty good, though. And the prices on Crazy Thursdays are decent.”
“Uh, haha…”
Liu Muye forced a laugh, thinking to himself:
How does this girl have the exact same taste as me?
Back when he’d first started working, he’d reward himself with a Crazy Thursday meal every payday. But after becoming a novelist, his earnings barely covered groceries, let alone takeout.
Which was why, on the rare occasion he splurged with his meager royalties, he’d been furious when that King’s Chicken delivery—with its hefty $9 delivery fee—forgot his soda.
……
The two arrived at McMuffin’s to find the first floor packed. They headed upstairs and snagged a corner table.
“What do you want? Pick something.” Han Juyou handed him her phone.
Her phone was encased in a cute cat-themed cover, but the model was outdated—the screen’s colors looked off, and a long crack stretched from the top-left corner to the bottom-right.
Noticing Liu Muye’s gaze, Han Juyou explained, “I smashed it during an argument with my dad a while back.”
Liu Muye chuckled. “You won’t even fix your phone, but you’ll treat me to a meal?”
“It’s an old phone anyway. It’ll be useless soon, so why bother?” She smiled. “Once I earn some royalties, I’ll just get a new one.”
“…Right.”
Liu Muye paused for a few seconds before responding.
In that brief silence, he thought to himself:
Silly girl. Royalties aren’t that easy to come by.
Of course, Han Juyou knew how hard it was to earn from writing. Her words were partly to reassure Liu Muye—and partly to console herself.
Why reassure him?
Because Liu Muye had helped her so much. She genuinely wanted to treat him properly, but she also worried he’d feel guilty seeing her phone in such a state.
With a dramatic wave, Han Juyou declared, “Order whatever you want. Don’t hold back for my sake.”
Liu Muye picked a $40 combo meal for two. Han Juyou raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re getting?”
“Let’s not go overboard this time.” He grinned. “When you actually earn those royalties, I’ll let you treat me to something fancier.”
“Deal. I’ll take you somewhere better then.”
As Han Juyou placed the order, her phone lagged—even navigating the app was a struggle. Clearly, she mostly used it for messaging these days.
If Liu Muye remembered correctly, Han Juyou, being a work-study student, probably didn't own a computer.
Could she really have been writing her novels all this time on just that shabby phone of hers?
How could he reasonably give her a computer without making it awkward?
Liu Muye stroked his chin in thought—though what he really should be thinking about right now was how to get Liu Chenghan to unfreeze his account funds sooner.
Meanwhile, Liu Chenghan had just heard from his secretary that his son Liu Muye had been elected class monitor, and was currently in high spirits over the news.
...