Over a dozen chirping, giggling girls filed in one after another, crowding the hallway instantly. The young receptionist blinked in slight surprise and turned to Eli behind me.
“Do you have a reservation?”
Probably because Eli was the tallest and most mature-looking—especially in figure.
Silently, I rose onto my tiptoes, stepped forward, and placed my petite frame right at the front.
“Yes. Room 2 of Tianxiang Hall… I believe that’s it. Reservation’s under Miss Qin.”
“Mm, got it.”
As the receptionist jotted it down, she glanced over our group—lingering on the girls behind me, especially Eli—and whispered to me,
“Is this a class reunion? Or a university club gathering?”
Her eyes then shifted to Xu Wei and me. “Or… a middle school graduation party?”
“…Neither,” I said flatly. “It’s a company staff dinner.”
“…Eh?” The receptionist looked utterly confused.
I ignored her, turned, waved, and led the flock of girls upstairs. How unfair! Others look like uni club members, but Xu Wei and I get pegged as middle school grads? She didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew—*junior* high. High school and uni clubs are barely a year apart; she wouldn’t split them unless she thought we’d just finished junior high. Seriously? Xu Wei might not care, but I’m a legit university student in an actual campus club, okay?!
I pushed open the door to our reserved private room. Cool AC air washed over me. I took a gentle breath and spotted Qin Ning sitting silently by the window—didn’t even glance up when the door opened.
“Sister Qin Ning, we’re here.”
The girls filed in. I obediently sat beside her. Glancing at the massive round table—big enough for nearly twenty—I whispered,
“Chinese cuisine?”
“What else?” Qin Ning shot me a look. “You think we’d have Western food for a gathering?”
“Ah, no—I just meant, ‘Chinese cuisine’ usually means this rotating round table setup, formal banquet style… Girls their age usually go for hot pot…” I shrugged.
“I know that,” Qin Ning frowned. “But didn’t you have hot pot yesterday? And say you could only eat a tiny bit?”
I froze. Wait—did she switch from hot pot to Chinese food… for me?
No, no way. I shook my head hard. More importantly: it’s not *just* hot pot. I can only eat a tiny bit of *anything*.
To keep Qin Ning from realizing her kindness was wasted, I’d have to force myself to eat more later. A silent tear traced my cheek as I quietly loosened the elastic waistband of my skirt. Back when I was a guy, overeating meant loosening my belt. Now in a skirt? Not sure this’ll help.
Cold appetizers already lined the table. Everyone was seated but no one touched their chopsticks—eyes locked eagerly on Qin Ning and me. I peeked at her. Unmoved.
Hmm… From what I’ve learned these past days, she’s probably waiting for *me* to speak.
“Well, everyone, no need to be shy! It’s late—please start eating,” I said quickly, then called to the waitress by the door, “Could you bring out the hot dishes?”
The moment I finished, Qin Ning’s chopsticks darted out—plucking a cold shrimp from the plate. Seeing the boss move first, the girls finally relaxed and began eating.
…So actions beat words, huh? You teenage girls really *are* sharp. No wonder—you started working young. Serious room-reading skills.
I slightly extended my chopsticks and picked a broccoli floret. Truth? I’m not into this pretentious “aesthetic” food. But with Chinese meals, eating what’s in front of you is polite.
Down it went. My face paled instantly. Tasted fine… but my stomach felt like it shrank by a quarter.
No… please no…
“Not to your taste?” Qin Ning caught my expression.
“No… I just…”
“You went straight for the condiments—that’s why,” she cut in, lifting a peeled cold shrimp from her bowl onto mine. “Eat the real food.”
I was dumbfounded.
