Mu Yao’s offhand tone shattered Nangong Ruihui’s already fragile composure. She glanced at Mu Yao’s calves—the knee-high socks from yesterday were now swapped for ankle socks.

‘Must’ve been washed off…’

A quiet wave of guilt surged within her. The sharp edge in Nangong Ruihui’s gaze toward Mu Yao softened, though she held her ground, clinging to the thought: *Mu Yao didn’t mean anything special by it.*

“I bought these specially for you.”

Those three words crushed Nangong Ruihui’s self-deception. Of course—such thoughtfulness *had* to be for her. And here she was, twisting kindness into conspiracy. How awful.

“Stop staring at me like a dazed fool! Eat first, then look. My face isn’t blooming with flowers… I tucked them in my clothes earlier so they wouldn’t get cold. Pretty good insulation, right? Class starts in ten minutes. If you don’t eat now, they’re gone. Go ahead—don’t eat if you want to upset me.”

Before Nangong Ruihui could climb out of the abyss, the “Mu Yao Bomber” overhead unleashed another volley. She was left battered, waving the white flag.

For the first time in her life, she knew she’d lost—and lost completely.

“Fine. I’ll eat.”

Nangong Ruihui choked out the words, tears welling. She’d already swallowed her pride once.

“That’s a good girl~”

Mu Yao lifted a hand to pat her head, then lowered it—afraid Ruihui might stubbornly refuse the food.

Receiving food gifts was routine for Nangong Ruihui. Snacks flooded her locker once—pried open and stuffed full. At home, Michelin-starred chefs prepared every meal, tea, and midnight snack. Anything she wished for, appeared.

But none of it compared to the xiaolongbao Mu Yao pushed toward her now. Suddenly, she was ravenously hungry.

“Um… Yao Yao, have you eaten?”

“I have.”

*Gurgle.*

Her stomach betrayed her perfectly. Mu Yao inwardly groaned—*so embarrassing!*

“Your mouth says ‘yes,’ but your stomach tells the truth. Even buying for me, you should’ve eaten too,” Nangong Ruihui said.

“I… I…”

Mu Yao fell silent. She wouldn’t admit she was broke. Before arriving at Yingshengya Academy, she’d given nearly all her cash to her little sister, keeping only a few dozen yuan. Yesterday drained it. This morning’s breakfast was the last of it.

She’d come from a prominent family, but academy prices were insane—nearly double outside rates. The cheapest meal cost sixteen yuan. Her meal card was nearly empty.

Leji Entertainment covered tuition, but withheld living expenses—a test. *Could a future idol manage basic survival?* Downfalls paved the way for rises. Once the “Idol Relaunch Project” launched, she’d get a small allowance.

“Stop stuttering. Share with me—four each. And valuing others over yourself? Foolish.” Nangong Ruihui picked up a xiaolongbao.

“You’re family, Ruihui. Not ‘others.’”

“Think what you want.” She bit in. Doughy warmth, rich broth bursting. “Meat-filled? I’m not fond of meat. You take all seven.”

She set the half-bitten dumpling back. *Wait later.*

*Munch.*

Mu Yao, misunderstanding, popped the bitten xiaolongbao into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed like a hamster’s, drawing glances. Adorably kiss-pouty.

“Hey! That’s mine! Aren’t you grossed out?!”

“What’s to be grossed out by? You’ve shared food before.”

“With family!”

“In my eyes… you *are* family.”

“…” Speechless.

“Four are vegetable-filled. No excuses.”

“!”

Cafeteria xiaolongbao came pre-packed. Only Mu Yao’s persistent pleading made the masked auntie relent:

“Auntie, split the fillings? Some students want both!”

*Tap tap* went the ladle. “Not our policy.”

“Please~ It prevents waste! Boosts sales!”

“…Alright. You’re persuasive.”

Mu Yao had planned every detail. No escape. *You said you wouldn’t eat? I’ll make you.*

Sometimes she felt stubborn as an ox—but not about health. Never.

Nangong Ruihui, shattered anew, needed air. *Now.*

Mu Yao was unlike anyone she’d met: no hidden agenda, just wanting her to eat breakfast.

So strange. Mu Yao had stormed into her world—and showed no sign of leaving.

*How do I face you now…?*

Maybe she overthought it. Maybe Mu Yao saw her as an older brother. Maybe she’d always seen Mu Yao as a little sister.

She hoped so. She couldn’t bear a girl’s wholehearted devotion.

She wanted to explain—but her own burdens chained her.

*If only one of them had been born a different gender…*