Thanks to all the "hype," bookings for me on Hua Li Mao slowly started piling up—almost every hour or two, I’d open the app and spot a new reservation notification.

Still, Monday mornings had the fewest slots, probably because everyone was busy with work or classes.

In our Computer Software Class 2 schedule, aside from weekends, we had no classes Monday mornings, Thursday afternoons, or Friday afternoons.

Other times? Take Tuesday afternoons: even though the first big lecture was free, I couldn’t mark noon to 3:30 PM as available. Leaving lunch aside, if a client booked somewhere far—like Liang Zhiming’s Shenbin Forest Park request before—the round trip alone ate over an hour. Renting out three hours just wasn’t worth it.

“Xiao Xue, you heading out to accompany your boss again today?”

Monday morning, Chen Xiaorui munched the breakfast I’d brought back, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “What’s his kink this time? A lolicon? Or… mmph… into mature women?”

“You sure know your stuff.”

I sat at my desk, ruler in hand, carefully trimming bamboo skewers to identical lengths. “Not taking morning bookings today. Most are just rubberneckers.”

I lined up the cut skewers and began gluing them together.

The cabin’s main frame, roof, tiny door, plus the fence, windmill, tree stump nearby…

Like I said, Monday morning requests were rough.

Out of five reservations: two asked about “special services”—instant reject. Two were over thirty. One had zero online trace—a brand-new QQ account with just a moon badge, empty Qzone. The other constantly flame-warred on forums, clearly hot-tempered. After careful thought, I declined both.

I won’t risk my safety or dignity for money. Any red flag? Nipped in the bud.

The last one claimed to be a streamer. I checked—he *was* legit: 300k+ followers, well-known on the platform. The barbecue meetup spot? A proper public park. Free food, drinks, even grilled skewers. I almost accepted… but finally sent: *“So sorry! Xiao Xue has something very, very important this morning.”*

That “very important thing”? This handicraft project in my hands.

Ever since that supermarket run for skewers, I’d been tinkering whenever free.

“So Xiao Xue’s finally helping us sell stuff today!”

Jiang Yuqing walked over, fresh-faced after washing up. “Almost done with the little house?”

“Mm.”

With my small, fair hands, I assembled the glued walls and capped them with the roof.

“Who’s this for?” Jiang crouched beside me. “You’ve been working on it daily. A boyfriend?”

“No way.” I kept gluing. “Think any guy would like a ‘green tea’ girl who’s always flirting around?”

“Not necessarily!” Jiang grinned mysteriously. “I know a girl from Logistics Management Class 1—she does game companion work too, and *has* a boyfriend.”

“Rental girlfriend?”

“Nope, game companion. Her boyfriend’s totally into it.”

“Huh?” Zhang Qi returned to her desk, towel-drying her hair, comb in hand. “Which Logistics girl?”

“The one from Class 1! Remember? We bought chicken feet together by the supermarket.”

“Ohhh! Her?! She has a boyfriend?!” Zhang Qi’s eyes widened. “Her personality… wow. She bought 27 yuan of chicken feet, dumped *two* big spoonfuls of chili in. The shopkeeper asked, ‘You eating all that alone?’ Her tone was *legendary*.”

“Exactly her! Super tomboyish, right? But online she’s ‘Bunny’—sweet loli voice. Big streamers on Bilibili even feature her clips. Sounds *nothing* like the girl we saw!” Jiang gesticulated excitedly. “And her boyfriend *supports* her work! So Xiao Xue, this job? Boyfriends aren’t the issue.”

“Game companion and… rental girlfriend are kinda different,” I said awkwardly. “Sometimes I have to hold the client’s hand.”

“Could he kiss you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean… how many guys would be cool with their girlfriend holding another man’s hand?”

“The Logistics girl’s boyfriend *sat right there* while she called clients ‘honey’ and ‘baby’!” Jiang gave me a “you’re too naive” look. “She told me: once her PC broke, she went to an internet café for a booking—20 yuan/hour, café cost 4. Profit! Her boyfriend tagged along, worried. They got a couple’s booth. He played games *right beside her* while she cooed into the mic…”

“Materialistically speaking,” Zhou Mengya cut in bluntly while changing socks, “he lost nothing. Like how we can’t know how many women our future husbands sweet-talked before. Obsessing is pointless. She earned money—that’s what matters. If my boyfriend could earn cash calling other women ‘honey,’ I’d drag him to the busiest spot myself.”

“Zhou Mengya, shut up, you weirdo…”

“Hey, still chatting? We’ll be late.”

Song Huijie, already dressed and holding an *Economics* textbook, glanced at me and Chen. “You two ate. We haven’t. I’m not eating breakfast in class.”

“Oh right!” Jiang checked her phone, then turned to me, eyes shining. “So… no boyfriend plans, Xiao Xue?”

“Nope. Too draining.”

I finished assembling the house and mini estate, tidied the colored paper for gift boxes, stowed everything on the shelf, and stretched. “Xiaorui, done eating?”

“Wait—gotta fix my makeup!”

She wiped oil from her lips, dashed to rinse her face, then sat before the mirror with cosmetics. “Your maid outfit’s still wet. What’re you wearing to sell stuff today?”

I chuckled. “Can’t I just wear something normal?”

“You’re our dorm’s ace!” Xiaorui dabbed foundation. “Gotta look sharp to attract those clueless guys from the boys’ dorm.” She paused. “Hey… wanna try ‘testing’ my boyfriend? I’m dying to know what’s in his thick head. See if he’d cheat on me.”

“Huh?!” I turned, mid-ponytail-tying. “Xiaorui, did Zhou Mengya infect you? Or that Logistics girl?”

“Hehe… forget I said it.” She blushed, flustered. “I stayed up last night… posted online. Comments said I’m too strict, don’t ‘get’ guys, that games > girlfriends. I don’t get it. Xiao Xue, you’ve met so many clients—am *I* wrong? Should I not interrupt gaming?”

I thought. “Has your boyfriend spent money on you?”

“He buys me cosmetics, treats me to meals…”

“Then treat him like a client. My rate’s 50 yuan/hour. If he spends 400 on makeup? That’s eight hours. Try acting like his ‘rental girlfriend’ for eight hours. See how it feels.”

“Huh… kinda makes sense?”

Suddenly she jumped up. “Wait—does your rental platform need more girls? Can *I* sign up?”

“You sure?” I considered. “Platinum contracts have strict requirements. Try Gold tier—it’s flexible, no monthly quota. Pays maybe 20–30 yuan/hour.”

“Money’s not the point. I just wanna see if other guys are like my wooden boyfriend.”

“Think carefully. Qing might cry.” I slipped into my dress and shoes, tossed a textbook into my bag. “Don’t believe Zhou Mengya’s nonsense. Most guys *would* mind.”

“Enough daydreaming. Class time.”

…

“Bi Xin Xue, please step out with me.”

Though Monday mornings were free for our class, morning reading was mandatory.

I never expected our advisor—already waiting outside the classroom—to call me out.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it last Friday,” she said in the hallway, gesturing to a middle-aged man in glasses and a white coat. “This is Dr. Lu Liguang, a psychologist from Xiangcao City Minzu Hospital.”

I nodded. “Hello, Dr. Lu.”

“You’re excused from reading today. Just a quick psychological check-in with Dr. Lu—simple screening for things like depression. No need to tense up. Answer naturally.”

The advisor patted my shoulder gently.