Chapter 8: Swiping the Card

Ji Pei and Ye Wenzhu walked side by side, trailing behind Bai Yin and Jiang Xihan.

Bai Yin, an enthusiastic girl, insisted on leading the way, chattering animatedly.

“I go to the new cafeteria all the time. The Hunan restaurant on the second floor is amazing—they hired a top chef from Hunan for a fortune.”

Seeing Bai Yin’s excitement, you’d think the chef was her uncle, promoting the place with such zeal.

With twenty minutes until classes ended, the four reached the second-floor cafeteria. Bai Yin pulled textbooks from her backpack to reserve a four-person table, then led the group to line up.

Jiang Xihan had never eaten at the cafeteria. As Bai Yin had blurted out, she rarely ate out, preferring to cook at home for health and enjoyment.

A rich, savory aroma hit them. Ji Pei inhaled deeply, found her favorite food counter, and joined the queue.

The cafeteria grew crowded, and Ye Wenzhu got separated from Ji Pei.

Ji Pei, assuming Ye Wenzhu was behind her, eyed the sizzling chili-fried pork and glanced back. “Wenzhu, that stir-fried beef looks so good.”

No response. Thinking Ye Wenzhu was glued to her phone, Ji Pei didn’t push.

Finally, her turn came. She pointed at the menu. “Auntie, I’ll have the stir-fried beef, chili scrambled eggs, and sweet-and-sour ribs.”

Starving all day, Ji Pei’s stomach growled loudly, nearly doubling her over.

Her good looks drew attention everywhere. The sociable cafeteria auntie struck up a conversation, asking her grade while piling her tray high, the ribs nearly spilling over.

Smiling, Ji Pei pulled out her phone to scan. “I’m… a sophomore.”

But when she opened Alipay, the QR code at the counter was gone.

“Auntie, I don’t have a meal card. Can I scan to pay?”

The auntie replied, “Sorry, student, new school rule: no QR code payments in the cafeteria anymore. Meal cards only.”

Ji Pei stood frozen, tray in hand, staring at the long line behind her, toes curling in embarrassment.

Yesterday, WeChat and Alipay worked fine. Today, all QR codes were gone, replaced by card readers.

Her meal card was long expired. What now?

Suddenly, a slender hand with distinct knuckles reached past, holding a thin meal card. It brushed Ji Pei’s hair and swiped the reader.

Ji Pei realized someone had paid for her, her lips trembling with gratitude, nearly tearing up.

She spun around—and met Jiang Xihan’s calm eyes.

“…”

When did Jiang Xihan get behind her?

Wasn’t Ye Wenzhu the one behind her?

Where was Ye Wenzhu? Where did that girl go?

Beep—

Payment successful.

Ji Pei’s heart pounded with the sound.

Why was it Jiang Xihan who swiped for her?

Clutching her tray, Ji Pei mumbled a quiet “thank you” to Jiang Xihan, head down, and bolted, nearly bumping into someone at the next counter.

The new cafeteria was huge and packed. Ji Pei struggled to find their reserved table.

After several loops, her arms aching from holding the tray, she spotted Ye Wenzhu in a purple top, waving at her.

Jiang Xihan was already seated with her tray. Ji Pei, like a headless fly, wandered until her food nearly went cold before finding the spot.

She sat next to Jiang Xihan—the only seat left.

Setting her tray down gently, Ji Pei accidentally pressed her hand under it, causing a rib to roll onto the table.

She reached for a napkin to wrap it, but Ye Wenzhu deftly picked it up with chopsticks and placed it on her own tray.

“Don’t waste it. Less than three seconds on the table—it’s still edible.”

Ji Pei nodded.

“Oh.”

She stole a glance at Jiang Xihan’s profile, watching her eat vegetables slowly, then held her breath and looked at her tray.

Jiang Xihan had ordered tomato scrambled eggs and stir-fried broccoli—nothing else.

Ji Pei’s tray, meanwhile, was piled with meat, overflowing. It didn’t leave a great impression.

Then again, nothing could be more embarrassing than yesterday.

Ji Pei thought Jiang Xihan had a good temper. She’d lied to her yesterday, yet Jiang Xihan still paid for her meal.

Back in school, after distancing herself from Xie Zhen, Ji Pei and Ye Wenzhu were inseparable.

They’d order six different dishes at the cafeteria, mix them, and share, each getting a taste of everything.

But now…

With two others watching, Ji Pei couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Ye Wenzhu, unbothered, grabbed two pieces of Ji Pei’s ribs.

“These are so good—sweet and tangy. Try my shredded pork with garlic sauce. It’s amazing.”

Seeing Ji Pei hesitate, Ye Wenzhu assumed she was being reserved and placed some in her bowl.

Bai Yin sighed.

“Eating with your bestie is the best. You can gossip and everything.”

Ye Wenzhu pulled out her phone, opened her WeChat QR code, and showed it to Bai Yin.

“Senior, let’s add each other. I’ll transfer you the meal money later.”

Bai Yin, eating eggplant with rice, waved it off.

“No, no, it’s just a few bucks. My treat.”

Though she declined, Bai Yin added Ye Wenzhu as a friend.

Ye Wenzhu smiled.

“I run a flower shop. Come by sometime, and I’ll give you flowers for free!”

Bai Yin’s eyes crinkled.

“Awesome, I’ll visit your shop.”

Ye Wenzhu grumbled as she ate.

“What’s with the school? Suddenly no QR codes, only cards. Good thing I was near you, or I’d have been so embarrassed.”

At that, Ji Pei buried her head lower—her meal was paid for by Jiang Xihan.

Ye Wenzhu turned to Ji Pei.

“Your card doesn’t work, right? How’d you pay?”

Just what she feared.

Ji Pei wanted to kick Ye Wenzhu under the table to shut her up.

“Professor Jiang swiped for me.”

Glancing at Jiang Xihan, who was eating calmly, Ji Pei added,

“Professor Jiang, I’ll transfer you the money now.”

Ye Wenzhu made a gossip-hungry face, exchanging a look with Bai Yin, then signaling Ji Pei with her eyes.

Ji Pei caught the hint, pursed her lips, blinked, and opened her phone.

Her WeChat nickname for Jiang Xihan was “Demon Jiang.”

With Jiang Xihan right beside her, Ji Pei dimmed her screen.

“Professor Jiang, I forgot how much the meal was…”

Jiang Xihan wiped her pale pink lips with a wet tissue.

“No need.”

Ji Pei didn’t want to owe her. She swore never to come back to A University—every visit, she ran into Jiang Xihan, like they were fated.

“But…”

Jiang Xihan picked up her empty tray and left.

Seeing Ji Pei’s hesitation, Bai Yin leaned in and whispered,

“It’s fine. Swipe away. Someone like Professor Jiang has more money in her card than she can spend. She could cover the whole cafeteria and still have plenty.”

As Jiang Xihan’s assistant, Bai Yin ran errands for her, earning her keep. Jiang Xihan gave Bai Yin her staff card daily for meals and drinks, covering her three meals a day.

Ji Pei felt awkward—she wasn’t one to take advantage.

She barely knew Jiang Xihan and doubted they’d meet again. Better to pay her back.

“But I’m not close with Professor Jiang, and we probably won’t meet again. I don’t want to owe her.”

Her voice was soft, but Jiang Xihan, returning after placing her tray and chopsticks, overheard.

Bai Yin, still leaning close, said,

“It’s fine. Professor Jiang’s family is in the jewelry business. You can’t imagine how rich she is.”

Ye Wenzhu gasped.

“Jewelry? Her family must be loaded. But how’d you add Professor Jiang on WeChat, Ji Pei?”

Ji Pei glanced nervously at Bai Yin.

“That’s… a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

Seeing them so close, Jiang Xihan’s sharp eyes narrowed behind her glasses. She coughed lightly.

At the sound, Ji Pei stiffened, gripping her chopsticks tighter.

The other two, mid-chat, quieted down, shoveling food quickly, leaving not a single grain of rice.

Bai Yin knew Jiang Xihan hated food waste—she’d even published a paper on saving food. Bai Yin never dared waste a bite in her presence.

Ji Pei cleaned her plate, wiped the table with a napkin, and followed Bai Yin to return their trays.

Jiang Xihan watched every move. As they left through the aisle, people greeted her.

“Professor Jiang.”

“Good evening, Professor Jiang.”

“Professor Jiang’s eating at the cafeteria too?”

She responded politely to each, showing no trace of arrogance or coldness.

This wasn’t the ruthless, self-righteous Jiang Xihan Ji Pei had imagined. Were the school rumors about her all made up?

The first-floor milk tea shop sold ice cream, payable by phone, no card needed.

Ji Pei ordered four different flavors, handing one to Bai Yin, then Ye Wenzhu.

The last one, a neat strawberry pink with colorful sprinkles, looked perfect. Ji Pei inexplicably felt it suited Jiang Xihan.

Cold on the outside, but inside…

Ji Pei shivered, not daring to compare Jiang Xihan’s heart to pink sweetness.

As Bai Yin bit the sprinkles on her ice cream, she saw Ji Pei offer it to Jiang Xihan and quickly said,

“Ji Pei, Professor Jiang doesn’t eat outside ice—”

Before she finished, Jiang Xihan took the pink strawberry ice cream from Ji Pei.