The Black-Hearted Miss

Tap, tap, tap.

Shen Qinghan leaned on her cane, limping over to Ye Cheng’s side.

The eyes of everyone in the class were fixed on the two of them.

A clash of legends.

"I want to sit here." Shen Qinghan's voice was icy, devoid of any extra emotion.

Ye Cheng glanced around before locking eyes with the boy beside him.

"Hey, man, she's talking to you. Why aren’t you answering?"

The boy beside him: "..."

I may not be human, but you’re truly a dog.

The most frustrating part was that the boy didn’t dare curse at Ye Cheng. Ye Cheng was a madman—he’d confessed his feelings to Dongfang Zhixia in front of everyone. Though he hadn’t faced retaliation yet, it was probably only a matter of time.

The boy stayed put.

He wasn’t moving. When the teacher arrived, he’d be the one in the right.

Shen Qinghan silently shifted her gaze to the boy beside Ye Cheng.

The boy beside him: "..."

Shen Qinghan said nothing, yet somehow, she said everything.

Ye Cheng continued to stir the pot.

"Don’t worry, bro, stand your ground. This seat is ours. Who does she think she is, bullying us like this?"

"So what if she’s a mafia princess?"

"So what if you end up getting chopped into mincemeat outside? So what if—"

Whoosh.

Before Ye Cheng could finish, the boy beside him turned pale and bolted from his seat.

"Take it." Ye Cheng acted magnanimous, as if he were the one generously offering the spot.

Shen Qinghan glanced at the seat, then at Ye Cheng, saying nothing.

"Ten thousand."

"Right away, Your Highness! The throne is yours!"

Ye Cheng sprang into action, swiftly hoisting his desk and rolling away, then considerately pushing an empty desk into his former spot.

The old king falls, the new queen rises!

Ye Cheng never imagined he could make extra cash just by switching seats.

The class watched their exchange in utter confusion.

What ten thousand?

And why did they seem so familiar with each other?

Shen Qinghan inspected the seat, pulled out a tissue to wipe it down, and sat.

Propping her chin on one hand, she stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought.

This didn’t last long. A payment QR code suddenly waved in front of her face.

"Your Highness, small businesses don’t do credit."

Ye Cheng’s shameless voice came from beside her. When she turned, she caught him wiggling his eyebrows.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

She pulled out her phone.

Scanned.

Beep!

"Green Bubble payment received: 10,000 yuan!"

Shen Qinghan put her phone away, waiting for Ye Cheng to ask her something.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

Three.

Frowning, Shen Qinghan turned to check on Ye Cheng.

He was hunched over his desk, tormenting his eraser—slicing it back and forth with a ruler as if hearing its silent screams.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

She hesitated, too proud to speak first, and simply stared at him motionlessly.

A few minutes later.

Ye Cheng successfully finished his "execution."

"Whew, what a grueling surgery!"

He wiped nonexistent sweat from his brow, then noticed someone staring.

Turning, he found Shen Qinghan’s unwavering gaze fixed on him.

The moment their eyes met, she looked away.

Ye Cheng: "..."

Is this mafia princess a little… off?

Maybe something’s wrong up there?

Deciding it was better not to get involved, Ye Cheng pretended not to notice and resumed his "surgical training" on the eraser.

"Why are you looking at me?" Shen Qinghan’s voice cut in.

Ye Cheng: "..."

Now she’s flipping the script?

Do all these noble young ladies come with hidden quirks these days?

Speaking of quirks, Ye Cheng’s mind flashed back to last night’s "ice cream" at the factory.

And how a certain princess had ordered him to act like a dog.

Ye Cheng: "I wasn’t."

Shen Qinghan: "You were."

Ye Cheng: "I wasn’t."

Shen Qinghan: "You were."

Ye Cheng: "I was."

Shen Qinghan: "You weren’t."

"Hah! Gotcha!" Ye Cheng crowed triumphantly.

Shen Qinghan’s flawless face stiffened.

"Student in the back—stand up and get out!"

The old professor at the podium was trembling with rage.

Ye Cheng: "..."

Amidst the class’s laughter, Ye Cheng spent the entire morning standing outside.

Once again, he lamented the unfairness of fate.

Did the old man not realize he couldn’t possibly be talking to himself?

There had to be an accomplice!

Yet, despite the whole class witnessing it, they collectively played blind.

This mafia princess was truly ruthless.

Ding-dong!

The bell rang. Ye Cheng was the first to charge back in, digging through his bag for change to feast at the cafeteria.

Except… he forgot class was still in session.

When he looked up, coins in hand, the entire room was staring at him like sunflowers to the sun.

Damn it!!!

In the end, Ye Cheng was detained until everyone else had left for lunch.

"Sigh. Hope there’s still braised pork left."

Clutching his coins, he prepared to leave.

Two steps in, a slender leg blocked his path.

"Huh?"

"Get me food." Shen Qinghan set her book down, staring at him impassively.

"You think I’ll just obey because you said so? Little girl, who do you think you are?"

Ye Cheng sneered, exuding the arrogance of a monarch.

"Or I’ll tell everyone about the stolen girls’ shoes in your bag." Shen Qinghan said calmly.

Ye Cheng: "..."

Ye Cheng: "You went through my stuff?"

Shen Qinghan: "Your bag was open. I just happened to see. Women’s leather shoes."

Ye Cheng: "You think you can blackmail me like this?"

Shen Qinghan: "Fine. I’ll just post the photo I took."

Thud!

Ye Cheng dropped to his knees in a full dogeza, eyes wide with sincerity.

"Please, Your Highness, tell me what you’d like to eat!"

"Anything. Skipping meals is bad for your health." The stunning girl flipped a page absently.

And so, Ye Cheng slung his bag over his shoulder and headed to the cafeteria.

Why the bag? Simple—to prevent a certain scheming princess from snooping.

What a miscalculation.

Ye Cheng never expected to run into that inconsiderate foot-washing girl from yesterday.

He’d stashed the shoes in his bag for an easy exchange later, only for Shen Qinghan to exploit it.

As they say—such is fate.

Ye Cheng was heartbroken.

So... he went to the "Kindness Window," handed over one yuan, devoured ten braised pork knuckles, and packed two more to go.

Ye Cheng waddled back to the classroom, belly protruding, a toothpick dangling from his mouth.

"Here you go, Miss—your lunch!"

Thud!

Ye Cheng pulled out the two pork knuckles stuffed in his backpack, making the desk tremble.

The knuckles were still warm.

Shen Qinghan stared at the greasy pork knuckles in front of her, then glanced at Ye Cheng’s swollen belly, falling into silent contemplation.

Seems like... entrusting a certain someone with lunch duty wasn’t the wisest decision.