Soon, just as the bell rang for the end of class, students flooded toward the cafeteria like a tidal wave. The noisy sound of footsteps and conversation intertwined, accompanied by the smell of low-quality wheat flour, charred potatoes, and a faint scent of grease that wafted through the air.
Su Yun and Chu Yu’er walked side by side through the crowd. They kept a half-arm’s distance between them, both bowing their heads somewhat awkwardly. Occasionally, they would steal a glance at each other for a brief second before quickly looking away. Their pinkish-blue and fiery red tails were instinctively tucked close to their sides to avoid being stepped on by others.
Many people were already seated in the cafeteria. Servitor golems moved silently between the tables and chairs, precisely placing identical meals in front of the diners.
Su Yun and Chu Yu’er found a corner by the window and sat down. As soon as they were settled, a golem floated over. The black bread sat hard in the tray, its surface still dusted with a bit of wheat bran. The boiled beans had a grayish-green tint, looking excessively soft and mushy, while the dish of stir-fried shredded potatoes was even harder and more charred. The edges were burnt black, emitting a faint, scorched smell.
Mo Qingqing’s lunch was one hour later; Su Yun’s task was to finish his own meal and then get food for her.
Thinking of Mo Qingqing, he couldn’t help but sigh softly in his heart, his large pinkish-blue tail listlessly sweeping across the floor.
‘When will these miserable days finally end? I have to guard against beatings at any moment and rack my brain to increase favorability. This is even more exhausting than when I was undergoing chemotherapy in my previous life. I even have to remember to keep a warm meal for her while I’m eating my own.’
“Um, I have to wait for my Master, so you might have to head back by yourself after eating,” Su Yun said softly to Chu Yu’er, his ears drooping slightly with a trace of apology.
“…Okay.” Chu Yu’er’s small, round ears immediately drooped like leaves struck by frost. She curled the tip of her tail around the hem of her skirt, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of the tray. The disappointment in her voice was impossible to hide.
She had secretly hoped to spend more time with Su Yun after lunch, even if it was just to talk about random things. She hadn’t expected they would separate so soon.
One of them had never made a friend since childhood and didn’t know how to take the initiative to strike up a conversation, fearing that saying a single wrong word would displease the other.
The other had gone too long without normal social interaction and had long since forgotten how to chat easily with peers, having grown accustomed to cautiously observing others’ moods.
As a result, the two of them sat at the table, focused only on burying their heads and forcing themselves to eat.
Su Yun ate calmly, even feeling a hint of satisfaction from being able to fill his stomach. He chewed the black bread with gusto, not even caring when a bit of bean puree accidentally got on the corner of his mouth.
Chu Yu’er, however, ate with great difficulty. She frowned with every swallow, her throat feeling dry. But seeing Su Yun acting as if everything was normal, she felt she was being too fussy and could only grit her teeth, forcing herself to finish every bite on her tray.
However, Su Yun unexpectedly enjoyed this silent atmosphere.
There was no need to carefully observe the other person’s expression, no need to worry that a certain movement or sentence would make them unhappy, and certainly no need to fear a beating after saying the wrong thing.
To him, this kind of defenseless peace was a luxury.
It felt like finding a temporary shelter from the wind in the middle of a stormy night.
Chu Yu’er did not get up immediately after finishing. She simply sat in her seat, looking at Su Yun expectantly. Her round eyes were full of hesitation, and her fingers repeatedly gripped her skirt until her fingertips turned red. Her ears and tail trembled slightly from the excessive tension.
She wanted to say something, to ask if Su Yun was free after school, or to invite him to hang out next time.
But the words reached her lips and were swallowed back down. She truly didn’t know how to speak up.
Su Yun finished packing his tray and looked up to see her in this state. He scratched the back of his head in confusion, his fluffy little ears tilting to the side.
“What’s wrong? You don’t have to wait for me. I need to stay here to get food for my Master. Her class finishes in half an hour.”
“…Okay…”
Chu Yu’er sighed helplessly, the light in her eyes instantly dimming. She stood up dejectedly and walked toward the cafeteria entrance, turning back every three steps. Even as she walked out the door, she couldn’t help but look back one last time. Seeing Su Yun looking down at something, she finally turned and left reluctantly.
It was a long time after she had gone that Su Yun suddenly had an epiphany.
‘Ah! Was she trying to talk to me just now?’
Usually, he was the one racking his brains to please others and guess their thoughts. Being actively approached and shown kindness was a first since he had transmigrated.
After a moment of silence, Su Yun could only choose to push the matter to the back of his mind for now, thinking that he must take the initiative to talk to Chu Yu’er the next time they met.
His gaze shifted back to the illusory clock floating in the center of the cafeteria.
He had to control the time precisely. He had to get the food exactly eight minutes before Mo Qingqing finished class. If it was too early, the food would get cold; if it was too late, it would make her unhappy.
Only by doing this could he ensure that the food was still hot when Mo Qingqing arrived at her seat.
Su Yun knew very well that increasing favorability was never something that could be easily achieved just by saying a few words or acting cute a few times.
That superficial pleasing might garner a little attention when first meeting, but to make Mo Qingqing truly unable to leave him—to stop seeing him as a toy or an experimental subject that could be discarded at any time—he had to start from every aspect of life, from every single detail.
A warm meal, timely service, and a well-timed act of acting spoiled—these seemingly insignificant trifles would accumulate and slowly change the relationship between the two of them.
As time passed, the number of people in the cafeteria gradually decreased. Most were low-level mages who left after finishing their meals, leaving only a few scattered apprentices like Su Yun who needed to wait for high-level or mid-level mages to finish class.
As the time for Mo Qingqing’s class to end approached, several nonchalant Wizards at a nearby table began to use magic to isolate their voices, letting only those around them hear as they whispered in low tones.
“Yesterday, I discovered that if a person’s head is cut off, they don’t die immediately,” a Wizard said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smile playing on his lips. His voice was kept very low, but it couldn’t hide the boastful tone as his fingers unconsciously mimicked the motion of swinging a blade.
“Really?” The Wizard next to him immediately perked up, leaning forward slightly with eyes full of curiosity. He rubbed his hands together, looking eager to try it himself.
“Of course it’s true!” he lowered his voice. “Yesterday, I picked a few commoners from my ranch to experiment on. Whether they were men, women, old, or young, they could all live for a while after their heads were cut off. It wasn’t long — only one or two minutes — but they were definitely still alive. Their eyes would blink, and their throats could still make a rasping sound like a broken bellows.”
“Why did you think of doing that?” another Wizard asked while playing with a dim magic crystal in his hand. He asked nonchalantly, but his eyes drifted toward the speaker with a hint of curiosity.
“Hah, it was just bad luck yesterday!” The bearded Wizard curled his lip, his tone full of annoyance before turning proud again. “I was walking in the ranch and tripped over a broken stone. I was furious, so I wanted to kill a few commoners to vent my anger. After I cut off the first one, I realized there were still mental fluctuations in the severed head. When I scanned it with my mental power, I could clearly feel his despair. That feeling… I can’t even describe how interesting it was.”
He paused, licked his lips, and added, “Later, I tried it again. If I killed their children or parents in front of them, the mental fluctuations in their heads would be even stronger. The despair in their eyes almost overflowed. It’s a pity, though. You can only watch; they can’t actually do anything.”
“That’s a bit cruel…” a Witch whispered, cutting in softly.
“Scram!” The Wizard immediately glared at her, his tone full of disdain. “Commoners aren’t people; they just look like us. They’re no different from the cattle and sheep in a ranch. If they’re killed, they’re killed. What’s wrong with having a little fun? You aren’t one of those people who’s even afraid to eat bread, are you?”
The Witch opened her mouth, but in the end, she said nothing more. She silently lowered her head, pretending to stare at the table without making another sound.
“Cruel… is it?”
In a corner not far away, Mo Qingqing’s deep red eyes calmly swept over that table of Wizards, her fingertips unconsciously twirling the quill pen in her hand.