The Unconventional Wild Genius and The Little Secretary's Pocket Money (Two-in-One)

The second floor of the cafeteria.

Today, Ye Cheng didn’t drag Shen Qinghan straight up to the third floor as usual.

Though the food on the third floor was excellent, considering they’d had the misfortune of running into the student council president two days in a row, Ye Cheng decided it was best to lay low for now and return only after things had quieted down.

When that time came, he’d make up for all the meals he’d missed—with a vengeance!

"Come on, young mistress, my treat today!"

Ye Cheng flashed a roguish grin, dug two measly coins out of his pocket, and immediately slipped into his "delusional bad boy" persona.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

"If you dare bring back nothing but chicken legs, you’re dead." Her voice was calm, as if she’d long grown accustomed to Ye Cheng’s antics, but her words carried a quiet warning.

Ye Cheng wagged a finger in front of her face, squinting with an air of profound wisdom.

"No no no, young mistress, you’re thinking too small. You think it’s just chicken legs? Think again."

"No pork knuckles either."

Ye Cheng’s grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, doubling down on his ridiculous act, waggling his eyebrows at her like some cheap Casanova.

"Woman, your demands may be harsh, but they’re no match for me. Sit tight and wait for your doom—ahem, I mean, your meal!"

With that, he stuffed his two coins back into his pocket and swaggered toward the far end of the cafeteria, where the "Charity Window" was located. His exaggerated strut made it look like he was carrying a fortune instead of loose change.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

"Idiot."

Only after Ye Cheng had left did she mutter under her breath, finally tearing her gaze away from him to stare blankly at the drifting clouds outside the window.

She seemed to slip into her usual "meditative" state. Since childhood, Shen Qinghan had always loved gazing at the sky like this. Left undisturbed, she could lose herself in it for an entire day.

Such terrifying focus.

Oh, and by the way—Shen Qinghan was also a genius. Her entrance exam scores had tied with Dongfang Zhixia for second place in the academy. Was there someone else who shared the rank?

She hadn’t bothered to check, nor did she care. The only thing that concerned her was Ye Cheng—or more precisely, how he had managed to take first place.

The scores among the top students were otherwise neck-and-neck. The sole reason Ye Cheng had dominated was because of the final, insanely difficult problem on the math exam.

As the saying goes, a desperate person can do anything—except math.

Faced with that problem, countless students had instantly transformed into helpless, bumbling fools, staring blankly at the paper, utterly powerless.

And this year’s final problem? It was arguably the hardest in the past decade. Its sole purpose was to curb high scores—no one was expected to solve it.

Just the string of mathematical symbols in the problem statement alone was enough to make most brains short-circuit. It might as well have been written in ancient Greek.

But that was just the first hurdle. If you somehow deciphered it, you’d immediately fall into the meticulously crafted "traps" set by the exam’s elite math team. And after that? Five or six more such traps awaited.

Only after reversing the equation, taking the derivative, combining like terms, and finally—would you arrive at the actual problem.

It was downright inhuman!

Shen Qinghan, with her superhuman intellect, had managed to bypass every trap—only to realize the problem itself was worth a single point, with the rest of the points tied to the unsolvable follow-ups.

She could’ve kept going, but time had run out. In the end, she had to submit an unfinished paper.

After the exam, it dawned on her—this problem existed solely to suppress scores. No one was meant to solve it.

And then… Ye Cheng aced it.

Not only did he solve it, but he also completed every subsequent problem, becoming the only student in all of Great Sea City to do so. Most couldn’t even see the starting line—they just scribbled a token "Solution:" before praying for mercy from the graders.

A genius. Undeniably, a true genius.

Shen Qinghan had only discovered this when reviewing Ye Cheng’s records. Who would’ve thought the academy’s top scorer was… that idiot?

And now, said genius was bent over the serving counter, half his body shoved through the window, shamelessly begging the cafeteria lady for extra portions.

Shen Qinghan was rendered speechless. She finally understood the saying she’d once read: geniuses are always… unconventional.

But was this pushing it a little too far?

Her drifting thoughts snapped back to reality as she refocused on Ye Cheng, still hunched over the counter—and caught a glimpse of his bright red underwear peeking out from beneath his uniform.

To be precise, it was his "limited edition polished satin" lucky underwear. The school uniform, a soft yellow with gray accents, was meant to be understated. But Ye Cheng’s garish red boxers ruined any semblance of subtlety.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

Before long, Ye Cheng returned, triumphantly balancing a tray piled high with chicken legs, lion’s head meatballs, and fried chicken cutlets.

"Dig in, young mistress!" Ye Cheng licked his lips eagerly, stabbing a meatball with his chopsticks and shoving it into his mouth without hesitation.

"Mmm, so flavorful—munch munch—try it, the meat’s super fresh—munch munch—"

He talked through a mouthful of food, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

So… this was the genius?

"What’s wrong, young mistress—munch munch—why’re you looking at me like I’m some kind of legend you just found out about? Did you finally realize I’m a prodigy?"

Ye Cheng widened his eyes in mock surprise, still chewing aggressively.

"Don’t feel bad about being dumber than me. My greatest virtue is my—"

THUD!

...

Meanwhile.

Two figures walked into the cafeteria side by side.

"I’ll quiz you on twenty vocabulary words during lunch. Miss one, and you’ll regret it." Dongfang Zhixia’s voice was sweet but laced with quiet menace.

Her secretary’s heart sank. She hadn’t memorized a single word—she’d spent all her time binge-watching dramas instead. Woe was her!

Time flies when you’re having fun, and the poor secretary felt like some sneaky thief had stolen hers. How had it suddenly become noon?

"Young mistress, you’re so beautiful today! You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen—"

The secretary blurted out random compliments, batting her big, dewy almond eyes while rubbing her hands together nervously, practically clinging to her mistress.

Dongfang Zhixia: "..."

Unwarranted kindness often hides ulterior motives.

Seeing her little secretary's expression, Dongfang Zhixia immediately knew—this airheaded assistant had forgotten everything she was supposed to memorize before leaving earlier.

"How much did you memorize?" Dongfang Zhixia took a deep breath and asked calmly.

The secretary timidly glanced at her young mistress, then held up a single finger.

Dongfang Zhixia was momentarily stunned before bursting into exasperated laughter. "One? You actually dare to say that? You—"

"Not one… I mean, none at all… Young Miss, you’re so, so beautiful! And kind-hearted! And you’d never punish your poor little secretary, and—" The secretary babbled nervously, though her words grew increasingly off-track.

Dongfang Zhixia: "..."

After all, Dongfang Zhixia wasn’t some devil who would resort to corporal punishment, right?

A "gentle" smile bloomed on her face. "Of course not. How could I ever bear to punish you?"

"Mhm! Young Miss, you’re the best!" The secretary nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with relief.

Thank goodness! She always knew her mistress was the most wonderful person ever, wuwuwu…

"Starting tomorrow, you’ll attend classes with me. I’ll personally check your homework every day. Fail any test, and your allowance is gone."

Dongfang Zhixia’s tone remained sweet, her smile unwavering. Yet, the secretary looked as if she were about to shatter into pieces.

Tears welled up in the secretary’s eyes as she whimpered, "Young Miss, I—"

"Or you can skip it. But then, no more allowance." Dongfang Zhixia, anticipating this reaction, presented the ultimatum coolly.

The allowance was the secretary’s lifeline. She didn’t receive a salary from the Dongfang family—even if she did, she’d have devoured it all, possibly even running into debt.

Add to that her scatterbrained spending habits—money burned a hole in her pocket. She’d even splurge on in-game power-ups for a simple match-three puzzle just to clear a level.

Her entire livelihood hinged on the monthly "allowance" Dongfang Zhixia granted her—a grand total of… 600 yuan. That broke down to 20 yuan a day.

With this meager sum, the secretary indulged in all the junk food Dongfang Zhixia usually forbade—street snacks like hand-pulled pancakes, fried chicken cutlets… The 600 yuan was her sacred, unrestricted fund.

And thanks to this, she’d grown noticeably… rounder, accumulating layers of utterly useless flab.

"Choose. Classes or allowance." Dongfang Zhixia’s voice was icy, leaving no room for negotiation. The secretary didn’t dare protest further.

Head drooping, she sniffled, "Young Miss… I’ll go to class, wuwuwu…"

Faced with the choice between her stomach and her brain, the secretary—after a brief struggle—opted for the latter. After all… food was life!

"Good. You start tomorrow." Satisfied, Dongfang Zhixia nodded, arms crossed, and strode confidently upstairs.

The secretary trailed behind, whimpering, "Wuwu… my allowance… wuwu… my poor brain… wuwu…"

At the second floor, the secretary suddenly perked up and tugged at her mistress’s sleeve.

"Young Miss, let’s eat on the second floor today!"

"Second floor?" Dongfang Zhixia raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. Her secretary’s whims were nothing new.

"Fine. It’s been a while since we dined here anyway."

Relieved, the secretary cheered inwardly: Yes! Mengmeng, you genius!

Truthfully, the third-floor food was better. But… the secretary was terrified of Shen Qinghan—especially after that bone-chilling glare. She didn’t want to risk another encounter or cause tension between her mistress and Shen Qinghan.

If I don’t go up, I won’t run into that scary "mincemeat" young miss!

Why "mincemeat"?

Because after some research, the secretary discovered Shen Qinghan could literally chop her into mincemeat. Wuwuwu… terrifying!

The more she thought about it, the more she shuddered.

Little did she know, someone else shared her exact sentiment—If I can’t win, I’ll avoid the fight.

That someone was Ye Cheng.

Today, Ye Cheng had also voluntarily given up the third-floor’s premium crab feast for a humble second-floor chicken drumstick—a symbolic "nostalgic hardship meal," though that was just an excuse. The real reason? He was petrified of running into the student council president again.

Especially after yesterday’s cigarette incident—somehow, he’d ended up smoking the exact same brand as Shen Qinghan’s signature "snowflake" flavored one. Now, guilt gnawed at him. Seeing Dongfang Zhixia made him feel like a mouse cornered by a cat.

Absolutely terrifying!

One person avoiding trouble was smart. Two people doing it? Pure comedy.

Fate worked in mysterious ways—Ye Cheng and the secretary, each fearing their own nemesis, had independently chosen the second floor.

As the secretary dragged Dongfang Zhixia toward the cafeteria window—

"Thud!"

"Ow… S-sorry! I— You jerk!"

Dazed from the collision, the secretary’s mouth moved faster than her brain—apologizing reflexively, no skill, just pure habit.

But then she realized—the person she’d bumped into was that troublemaker!

"You! Again!" She glared at Ye Cheng before immediately ducking behind Dongfang Zhixia.

"Wuwu… Young Miss, let’s just eat on the third floor, wuwu…"

Though not the sharpest tool in the shed, the secretary had a sudden epiphany—if Ye Cheng was here, she must be nearby too.

Her bravado lasted all of one second before she retreated, whimpering and tugging her mistress toward the stairs.

Dongfang Zhixia: "..."

Ye Cheng: "..."

This idiot’s hopeless.

The same thought crossed both their minds.