3: Chapter 3: Can this be used to offset rent?

The villa, occupied by only two people, was excessively quiet.

It remained so until the low hum of the range hood broke the silence.

In the open kitchen, Huang Mao was wearing an apron. With a swift movement of his knife, the scallions, ginger, and garlic on the cutting board were instantly transformed into neat, minced pieces.

Beside him, water was boiling in a pot, bubbling and steaming, while the oil in the frying pan gradually heated up, letting out a faint sizzle.

This would have been a very cozy, domestic scene, if one ignored the figure floating around beside him like a lingering spirit.

Leng Qingxuan was practically pressed against the edge of the counter. Those cold eyes, usually used to look down on the world at school, were now wide and round, staring intently at the... clove of garlic in Huang Mao's hand.

“What is this?” she asked, pointing at the freshly peeled garlic, her face full of a thirst for knowledge.

Huang Mao's hand jerked, nearly cutting his finger.

He turned to look at the stunning face so close to his own. He could even see the fine peach fuzz on her skin and her long eyelashes trembling slightly from curiosity.

“...Garlic,” Huang Mao replied expressionlessly. “It’s used to ward off evil spirits, especially the kind of vampires who don't touch the food of mortals.”

“Oh.” Leng Qingxuan nodded as if she understood, then pointed at the cilantro nearby. “What about this? Weeds? Why are you cooking grass? Has your family gone bankrupt?”

Huang Mao took a deep breath, feeling a headache coming on.

“This is cilantro. And it’s for flavoring the noodles, not for you to eat like grass.”

“You can't blame me.”

Leng Qingxuan defended herself righteously, leaning forward slightly. To see what was happening in the pot, the collar of her loose sweatshirt inevitably drooped, revealing a dazzling patch of snowy white skin.

“The food I used to eat was always served ready-made, arranged on a plate like a work of art. I could never tell what the raw ingredients looked like.”

“Young lady, please step back a bit,” Huang Mao said helplessly, nudging her away with his elbow. “The oil might splash. If you get disfigured, you'll have to go busking on the streets in your fancy costumes.”

“Tsk, stingy,” Leng Qingxuan muttered, though she obediently pulled back. However, her eyes remained glued to the pot. “It smells so good... Huang Mao, did you put some kind of hallucinogen in there?”

“I put in some knockout drops. I’m planning to knock you out and sell you to some remote mountain village as a child bride.”

“That... if it’s the kind of mountain village where I don't have to practice piano, has internet and a phone, and I can still spend money on gacha games, I guess that wouldn't be so bad?”

Huang Mao: “...?”

He suddenly felt that this woman might not be the real Leng Qingxuan. She was nothing like the one at school; instead, she seemed like she’d been possessed by some transmigrator.

Ten minutes later.

Two steaming bowls of Yangchun Noodles were brought to the table.

Green scallions and cilantro floated on the clear broth. Two perfectly fried poached eggs sat atop the thin white noodles, their edges golden and crispy, while the yolks in the middle were perfectly runny.

A few slices of braised beef were partially visible, their aggressive aroma wafting into their noses.

“I'm digging in!”

Leng Qingxuan pressed her hands together, quickly said a word of thanks, and then impatiently picked up her chopsticks.

Abandoning any semblance of a lady-like image, she lifted a mouthful of noodles into her mouth. Immediately, her eyes lit up, and her cheeks puffed out as she chewed, looking like a hamster hoarding food for the winter.

“Mmm! Mmm-mmm-mmm!” She let out a series of muffled exclamations of praise, unable to spare a moment to speak, simply giving him a frantic thumbs-up.

Huang Mao took a slow sip of the broth, watching the "starving ghost" across from him devour the food. An unconscious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Feeding this creature gave him a strange sense of accomplishment.

In less than five minutes, the bowl in front of Leng Qingxuan was empty, even the broth finished completely.

She slumped into her chair without a care for her image, rubbing her slightly protruding belly and letting out a satisfied sigh.

“I’ve come back to life...” She squinted, looking at Huang Mao as he cleared the dishes with a dazed expression. “Huang Mao, you know what? In that moment just now, you changed in my eyes.”

“Became more handsome?” Huang Mao asked without looking back.

“No.” Leng Qingxuan looked serious. “It was like you were wearing a red Holy Shroud coat, your hair turned white, and your skin got a few shades darker.”

Huang Mao paused with the cloth in his hand, turned around, and looked at her helplessly. “Student Leng Qingxuan, even though it's just the two of us here, I suggest you stop using that kind of 'Moonie' slang that only Type-Moon fans understand.”

“Why?”

“Because if there were a narrator or readers watching this scene, they’d feel like they couldn't understand a word and would leave while grumbling.” Huang Mao pointed at the ceiling. “Have some consideration for the general audience, okay?”

Leng Qingxuan blinked as if she somewhat understood, then obediently made an 'OK' gesture. “Order received, Master.”

“...Never mind.”

After cleaning the kitchen, the two returned to the living room.

Leng Qingxuan was like a well-fed cat, lazily curled up on the sofa, watching the night view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“This is so nice,” she suddenly sighed, her voice light. “No piano music, no lecturing, no need to maintain etiquette. I want to die here.”

Huang Mao sat in a single armchair, casually switching channels with the remote. “Forget about dying here; I’m not in the haunted house business. However, since you plan to stay long-term, shouldn't we talk about the rent?”

The air froze for a few seconds.

Leng Qingxuan turned her head stiffly, her exquisite face written with the panic of 'Oh no, I forgot about that.'

“Rent... rent?” she stammered. “Does it have to be money?”

“What else? Water, electricity, gas, internet, and the beef in that bowl of noodles just now—did they all just blow in from the wind?” Huang Mao raised an eyebrow.

Leng Qingxuan bit her lip, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweatshirt. “But... I left in a hurry. I only have a few hundred in cash, and a few hundred more in my 'Small and Beautiful' app. That’s my entire net worth combined...”

“In other words,” Huang Mao put down the remote, his gaze sharp, “you are practically penniless, have no survival skills, and you dared to knock on a single man's door in the middle of the night with a suitcase full of figurines?”

Leng Qingxuan lowered her head like a student who had done something wrong. “...Yes.”

“Are you genuinely stupid or just acting?” Huang Mao’s tone grew heavy. “What if, when I opened the door, there were several burly men standing behind me who dragged you inside? You’d be filming videos for paid members only right now, do you understand?”

The living room fell into a dead silence.

After a long while, Leng Qingxuan slowly raised her head.

She looked at Huang Mao, her eyes showing no fear, but instead a heart-wrenching calmness and a faint touch of self-mockery.

“If that happened... then I’d just have to endure it.”

Huang Mao was stunned.

“Anyway, even being dragged into hell is better than being a puppet in that house.”

She curled her lips into a smile that looked more painful than crying.

“At least here, if someone is bad, I can still resist a bit, or just die. But at home... I don't even have the right to die.”

Huang Mao looked at her.

Under the lights, the girl hugged her knees, curled into a small ball like a little beast abandoned by the world. That bone-deep loneliness and despair couldn't be faked.

Just how far had her family pushed this girl?

“And...”

Leng Qingxuan suddenly changed the subject, her previously dead eyes lighting up again. She looked at Huang Mao with a crescent-moon smile, like a cunning little fox.

“Isn't my luck actually pretty good? It’s like the luck of a single-pull SSR.”

“The person I met was Huang Mao.”

“Huang Mao is a good person.”

Huang Mao's mouth twitched.

This 'good person card' came so unexpectedly, especially in such an emotional moment.

But he had to admit, looking at that smiling face, the bit of anger in his heart vanished instantly.

This woman was simply cheating. She clearly had a face that could cause the downfall of nations, yet her smile was as clean as a child's. At school, probably no one had ever seen her like this.

“Fine, I’ll take the good person card, but it won't cover the rent.” Huang Mao turned away, not wanting her to see his slightly burning ears. “If you don't have money, just owe it for now. You can pay it back by working later.”

Leng Qingxuan stared at Huang Mao's unnatural profile, her large eyes darting around.

She suddenly remembered a shoujo manga she’d read a few days ago, where the female lead also didn't have money for rent, and then...

An impulse to court disaster surged in her heart.

“Um, Student Huang Mao.”

Leng Qingxuan suddenly adopted a sweet, delicate voice, leaning forward slightly as her slender fingers gently hooked the collar of her sweatshirt.

“I’ve read quite a few manga...”

She bit her lower lip, two red clouds drifting onto her face, yet her eyes boldly wandered over Huang Mao's body before finally meeting his gaze.

“If I really don't have the money... how about I learn from those plots?”

“Use... panties to pay the debt?”

“Or... you know, worn stockings?”

Pfft—!

The mouthful of Cola Huang Mao had just taken turned into a fountain, precisely spraying across the coffee table.

He coughed violently, his face turning bright red as he glared at the woman who had just made such a shocking statement.

Leng Qingxuan was also startled by her own boldness, her face as red as a ripe tomato. But seeing Huang Mao in such a pathetic state, she couldn't help but want to laugh, her shoulders shaking.

“What... what kind of trashy manga are you reading?!” Huang Mao roared while wiping the table. “Is that something you should even say?!”

“Hahahaha...” Leng Qingxuan finally couldn't hold back her laughter, rolling around on the sofa. “Look at you, such a big reaction! You’re clearly a closet pervert!”

“I was just choking!”

“Blehh, I don't believe you!”

Watching her laugh so uncontrollably on the sofa, completely without poise, Huang Mao sighed helplessly, but his heart felt inexplicably lighter.

At least she looked much better than that lifeless state from earlier.

“Alright, stop laughing.” Huang Mao glanced at the wall clock. “It’s almost ten. Since you’re living here, we need to set some rules. The bathroom is the first door on the left on the second floor. I remember there are new bath towels in your room's drawer...”

“Buzz— Buzz—”

A sudden, urgent vibration interrupted Huang Mao.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

The smile on Leng Qingxuan's face froze instantly, replaced by a pale look of fear.

She slowly and stiffly turned her head to look at the phone she had tossed into the corner of the coffee table.

The screen was lit.

The caller ID showed only two words, yet they were like a death warrant, appearing exceptionally jarring in this warm living room.

—【Mother】.