“What?!” The word burst like a clap of thunder in clear skies.

Li Muyan and Ye Yiyi traded a look, surprise flitting like startled sparrows. They barely knew Li Meng—just fellow heirs of Ninghai’s six families, faces brushed like passing clouds.

“Did your brother bring people to your place again?” Tang Coco’s voice landed light, like a pebble in a still pond. She’d learned last time about that unruly brother.

“Mm… a few of his friends flew in from abroad,” Li Meng murmured, grievance pooling like rain in a low field. “They want to mess around at our house for a few days.”

“What’s going on, Coco?” Ye Yiyi’s brow knitted like willow branches in wind. To win their consent, Tang Coco explained, painting Li Meng’s situation like frost on thin glass. Sympathy rose in both like a warm tide.

“Can’t believe a brother like that,” Ye Yiyi huffed, steam popping like a kettle. “So irresponsible.”

“It’s fine. Stay here,” she added, opening the door like a quiet lake. “We’ve got two rooms free.”

“Really?” Li Meng lifted her small head, a bud turning toward sun.

“Of course.” Ye Yiyi’s kindness spread like spring sunlight. Li Meng’s smile bloomed like morning glories.

“Right,” Li Muyan cut in, eyes glinting like foxfire. “You didn’t bring bedding or luggage, did you? Rooms we have; spare sets, we don’t.”

“Uh… I left in a rush,” Li Meng said, fluster fluttering like a bird fleeing rain. “I didn’t think that far.”

“No worries. You can sleep with me,” Li Muyan purred, grin curling like an old fox’s tail. “I’m generous.”

“You shameless she‑wolf,” Tang Coco thought, her stare sharp as a thorn. “Waiting here to pounce on Li Meng.”

“Uh… is that… okay?” Li Meng’s shyness trembled like dew on a leaf.

“Totally fine. Come on, I’ll show you the room.” Li Muyan tugged her upstairs, steps tapping like beads on a string. As they passed, she shot Tang Coco a look like a raised banner; a storm cloud crossed Coco’s face.

When the two went up, Ye Yiyi leaned toward Tang Coco, voice soft as evening wind. “Coco, is your program ready? The freshman welcome night starts in two days.”

She sat beside her and fixed Coco’s mussed clothes and hair, fingers smoothing like gentle rain. Warmth unfurled in Coco’s chest like a small fire.

“Mm. It’s all set,” Coco said, confidence steady like a well‑tied knot.

“Good. I can’t wait for your performance,” Ye Yiyi giggled, laughter tinkling like chimes.

They chatted a while, words drifting like lanterns on water. Then they started dinner, knives and flames dancing like cranes and fireflies. Upstairs, no one knew what Li Muyan and Li Meng were up to; mystery hung like mist.

The table filled with dishes, colors and scents rising like a harvest moon. Li Muyan and Li Meng came down, fingers linked like silk threads. They looked like sisters forged overnight, a closeness sprouting like bamboo. That wasn’t the picture in Coco’s mind—she knew Li Muyan’s nature, sly as a cat. Getting Li Meng that close, that fast, set an itch under Coco’s skin like ants.

After dinner, Li Muyan and Li Meng flopped on the couch, stuffed like overfilled dumplings. For Li Meng, it was her first taste of Coco’s cooking; delight burst like fireworks, and restraint slipped like sand.

“If you can’t finish, eat less,” Tang Coco sighed, her gaze cool as a moonlit pond.

“Coco, you’re amazing,” Li Meng said, admiration clear as spring water. “Why don’t you become a chef?”

“Chef?” The word clicked in Coco’s mind like a key turning.

“Yeah,” she thought, a spark jumping like lightning. “Why not be a chef, instead of hauling boxes outside a kids’ clothing shop?”

“Hey, stop spacing out,” Li Muyan said, snapping her back like a twig.

“Uh… right. Li Meng, you’ve got a point,” Coco said, plans unfolding like paper fans. “Maybe I could be a chef.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Li Muyan asked, doubt flickering like a wavering candle.

“Of course,” Coco answered, energy rising like sun over the ridge. “I’d finally have something solid to do.”

“But think,” Li Muyan said, eyes narrowing like a cat in tall grass. “With your looks, how much trouble would a public kitchen stir up?”

“This…” The problem loomed like a stone in the path. Coco searched for a way around, thoughts circling like swallows.

“I’m thinking… Right, if that won’t fly—Yiyi, remember Mu Qingcheng?” Li Muyan’s voice carried like a messenger’s bell.

“Mm, I remember,” Ye Yiyi said, concern shading her face like cloud. “Don’t tell me you want Coco working for her.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Li Muyan replied, tone smooth as lacquer. “Her hotel’s solid, and she can shield Coco like a wall. Few would dare cause trouble.”

“That’s true,” Ye Yiyi said, worry lingering like mist. “But if she sees Coco, will she…”

“Relax,” Li Muyan waved it off, smile lazy as summer. “Mu Qingcheng just loves her jokes.”

“What are you two plotting?” Coco asked, curiosity pricking like a needle.

“Here’s the deal,” Li Muyan said, words landing like stones on a path. “My friend’s Mu Qingcheng. She’s got some pull in Ninghai—brushes the underworld crowd like sleeves brushing a table. Don’t worry; she’s good people. She runs a hotel. You could do part‑time there—just cook a few dishes on weekends. How’s that sound?”

Coco thought it through, mind steady as a compass. If Mu Qingcheng touched the underworld, doors might open like night markets, even for things best handled in shadow. The idea felt workable, like a boat on a calm river.

“That could work,” she said, caution gleaming like frost. “But… what was that you hinted about her?”

“Uh… that,” Li Muyan scratched her cheek, sheepish as a cat caught stealing. “Don’t worry. Just a… special hobby. No life‑threatening stuff.”

“…” Coco stared, speechless as a stone. “No life danger? I’m cooking, not defusing bombs,” she thought, humor dry as winter grass.

“Fine. I’ll drop by when I’ve time,” she said at last, resolve settling like dusk. “She might not even want me.”

“She will,” Li Meng chimed in, a smile bright as a lantern. “Coco’s cooking is too good not to be loved.”