11: Chapter 11 The Basic Obligations of Partners

The door to the VIP Hall closed.

Gu Zeyan was the last one to leave.

As he stood up, he glanced at Li Li, his smile hanging as usual—a curve polished thousands of times, steadier than the display cases in the airport duty-free shop.

The door clicked shut. With 1.9 million people watching online, the only person left in the frame was the non-celebrity leaning in the corner of the sofa.

Li Li pulled out his phone.

No manager calling. No makeup artist touching up his face. No assistant handing him a schedule.

All his worldly possessions: one phone, one beat-up suitcase, and a plane ticket he hadn't received yet.

And that idiotic system under his left cuff that kept flashing text.

He opened TikTok.

It was a habit he'd formed while waiting for delivery orders—scrolling through short videos whenever he was free. Half an hour of recommended feeds would vanish in the blink of an eye.

The first item on the recommendation page: a Dubai blogger eating a buffet at the top of the Burj Khalifa.

The second: a yacht party at the Dubai Marina.

The third—

A breaking news update from a Middle East news channel.

"The Ala Country Ministry of Defense has issued a statement regarding the recent military provocations by Israel in the Strait of Hormuz."

Li Li's thumb froze on the screen.

He scrolled to the comment section. It was all "Here we go again," "Dogs biting dogs," and "The United States is stoking the fire again."

He scrolled further. A military blogger's explainer video popped up, showing a map of the Middle East.

That wasn't right.

The Ala Country on the map wasn't the pocket-sized nation from his memory, consisting of Dubai plus Abu Dhabi with five little lackeys attached.

The entire Arabian Peninsula plus the Iranian Plateau was painted the same color.

Riyadh, Tehran, Doha, Dubai—all belonged to Ala Country.

A massive Middle Eastern country that had stuffed Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Qatar inside it.

Standing opposite it was Israel, backed by the United States.

The two sides were in a military standoff in the strait.

The plane he was about to board was headed for the most open city in that massive country.

Dubai.

In his past life, his translation company had worked on Middle East project documents; the geopolitics of that region were more twisted than a client's demands. This world was even more twisted.

Li Li looked up at the Ala Country Airlines passenger jet parked on the tarmac outside the floor-to-ceiling window.

A faint blue light shone from under his cuff. No text flashed, but that line, "Suggest the host buy insurance now," was still pinned in his mind.

He opened his phone's insurance app.

He browsed for three seconds.

He backed out.

Buying insurance required filling in an emergency contact.

He didn't have one.

—The frosted glass door was pushed open.

The footsteps were light.

Jiang Rumu.

She had changed into flat shoes, her straight black hair tucked behind her ears, her hands empty.

She scanned the empty VIP Hall, her gaze circling around and landing on him.

She walked over.

She sat down.

Right next to him.

The third time.

The comments on the wall-mounted screen exploded again.

[She's back! Sister Mu sat next to him again!!]

[Did she pay for a VIP seat in that spot?]

[Did Jiang Rumu install GPS tracking on this non-celebrity?]

The number of online viewers jumped.

Three million. Four million. Four point three million.

Jiang Rumu's main fan base—college students and office workers—woke up one by one, opened their phones, and flooded into the livestream. Five million.

Li Li didn't look at the comments.

He was flipping through flight information.

It was quiet beside him for about forty seconds.

Then—

Gurgle—

Louder than last time. In the empty VIP Hall, the frequency was clear enough to serve as an alarm clock.

Jiang Rumu pressed her right hand against her stomach. She pressed for two seconds, let go, then pressed again. Her face faced forward, her cold outer shell perfectly sealed.

But that hand betrayed everything.

"Didn't find anything to eat?"

She shook her head. The movement was very small.

"What about your team? Didn't they prepare anything for you?"

She didn't shake her head or nod. She just went quiet.

That silence conveyed much more information than a head shake.

The comments flooding in were all from Jiang Rumu's die-hard fans—

[Don't you guys know about her manager Sun Kezheng? He's a human juicer!]

[Have you forgotten that she went hungry for twelve hours before eating at the last event?]

[Mumu isn't skipping breakfast, it's that nobody prepared any for her!!]

Li Li stood up.

Jiang Rumu turned her head.

"Going to the restroom."

She withdrew her gaze. Her hand was still pressing on her stomach.

Li Li pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway.

He didn't go to the restroom.

On the T3 international departures level, the dining area was at the end of Corridor C. He had passed a noodle shop when he arrived.

Three minutes.

"One bowl of clear soup wontons, to go, keep the bowl."

"Sir, takeout doesn't come with a bowl, we use disposable—"

"Ten bucks extra, give me the bowl."

The server glanced at him and didn't argue.

He carried the bowl and turned into the Starbucks next door.

"Grande hot latte, oat milk, no sugar. One croissant."

He hesitated for half a second. He didn't know what kind of milk she drank, or if she wanted sugar.

Forget it. If she didn't drink it, he would.

Holding the bowl in his left hand, the bag in his right. He headed back.

A non-celebrity with no status and no job position, carrying a bowl of wontons across the T3 international departures corridor.

It felt completely natural.

He had carried far more bowls than this in his life.

He pushed open the door to the VIP Hall.

5.2 million online.

Jiang Rumu was still sitting in her original spot. Her hand was off her stomach, resting on her knees.

He placed the wonton bowl on the small table to her right.

The latte went next to the bowl.

The croissant went next to the latte.

One bowl, one cup, one bag. Arranged neatly.

Jiang Rumu turned her head, looking at the items on the table.

Steam rose from the bowl, dissipating quickly in the cold air conditioning.

"This—"

"Your stomach growled twice. The first time was fine, the second time five million people heard it. If it growls a third time, the trending topic will be 'Jiang Rumu is starving,' and your team will have another PR crisis tomorrow."

He pulled at his cuff.

"So eat."

Jiang Rumu stared at him for a few seconds.

She looked down at the bowl of clear soup wontons. The skin was thin, revealing the meat filling. The steam fogged up, and she blinked.

"How did you know I drink oat milk lattes?"

"I didn't. I guessed. If you don't drink it, I will."

She picked up the spoon.

Li Li sat down next to her.

In his past life, he had worked seventeen jobs, and not one boss cared if he had eaten. When he was delivering food, running for six hours in a rainstorm, he'd return to his rental room only to realize he'd had only half a bottle of mineral water all day. No one handed him wontons, no one asked a single word.

He knew that feeling better than anyone.

So, when others were hungry, he didn't pretend not to see.

It wasn't soft-heartedness. It was instinct.

A blue light flashed under his cuff, and a line of text appeared. He didn't look down, but caught it in his peripheral vision—

[Side quest behavior assessment: Host took care of partner's diet—Affinity +3.]

[Note: Affinity is not romantic love, it is trust. Don't overthink it.]

He wasn't overthinking it.

But since the system mentioned "partner"—

"By the way."

Jiang Rumu's spoon hovered over the bowl.

5.2 million people were watching. The camera's red light was on. The recording equipment was on.

Li Li turned his face.

"The show requires us to pair up. You chose me, I chose you, so for the next week, I am your temporary partner."

He paused for a beat.

"The basic obligation of a partner—eat your meals on time."

The VIP Hall went completely quiet for three seconds.

The comments froze for a moment—not because of a server issue, but because five million people simultaneously forgot to type.

Then it exploded.

[He said obligation! Obligation, sisters! This is the first time I've seen a man treat taking care of someone like a work report!]

["The basic obligation of a partner is to eat on time" — carve that on a tombstone.]

[What kind of construction-site style gentleness is this? Help, why is it so sweet?]

Jiang Rumu's die-hard fans had the most complex reactions. They had watched Jiang Rumu get frozen by her company for half a year, watched her walk the red carpet alone, and watched the countless mistakes her team made. No one had ever been able to make her show a hint of relaxation in front of the camera.

Now, a non-celebrity whose name few people even knew was holding a bowl of wontons, pinning the cold, high-status goddess with thirty million followers to the sofa, and feeding her.

[Sisters, I think I'm shipping this.]

[He's not chasing her, he's taking responsibility. I'm crying to death.]

Jiang Rumu's spoon was still hovering.

She looked at Li Li for two seconds.

She didn't speak.

She lowered her head. She scooped up a wonton. She put it in her mouth.

She chewed twice, then scooped another. Every bite was very earnest.

Li Li leaned back on the sofa, pulled out his phone, and continued scrolling through Middle East news.

One eating wontons, one watching the military standoff between Israel and Ala Country.

The comments were going crazy, but inside the VIP Hall, there was only the sound of the spoon hitting the porcelain bowl.

---

Su Wantang's fill light was blindingly white.

28,000 online. The third installment of the "The Average Men Who Loved Me in Those Years" series. The script was written in advance, and the punchline was at the three-minute mark.

The secondary screen was on. Muted. The video was synchronized.

T3 Terminal VIP Hall. The man with the messy short hair walked into the frame carrying a bowl of wontons and placed it on the table next to Jiang Rumu.

Su Wantang didn't stop talking.

"...He thought a hundred-dollar perfume was already very good. I said, do you even know how much Jo Malone costs..."

On the secondary screen, Li Li sat down. His mouth moved a few times.

She didn't turn on the sound. But the comments in her own livestream filled it in for her—

["The non-celebrity on the Dating Reality Show next door just said 'The basic obligation of a partner is to eat on time'!!"]

["Sisters, go watch Dating in Travel quickly, that non-celebrity is too intense!!"]

Basic obligation.

The glass water cup in her hand slipped.

She didn't catch it.

The bottom of the cup hit the corner of the table and cracked in two. Water spilled all over the table, splashing onto the keyboard.

The comments flooded in.

["Sister Tangtang, are you okay!!"]

["Did you cut your hand?"]

Su Wantang looked down at the cup broken in two. Water dripped from the edge of the table onto her skirt.

Her hands were shaking.

Li Li never said things like that in front of her. Never.

In front of her, he always kept his head down, guessing her mood, even asking for her opinion before ordering food.

Now, he was saying "basic obligation" to another woman.

Treating taking care of someone as a matter of course.

Su Wantang bit the inside of her lip.

"It's fine, it's fine, my hand slipped, haha! The cup was too slippery—"

She flipped the secondary screen face down onto the wet tabletop.

The message in the comments was still there—

["Is the non-celebrity on the Dating Reality Show next door Tangtang's ex-boyfriend? They look so similar!!"]

Her smile didn't drop.

She crumpled the tissue used to wipe the table into a ball, her nails digging into her palm.

---

VIP Hall.

The bowl was empty.

Jiang Rumu placed the spoon on the edge of the bowl and sat up straight.

"How much?"

"What?"

"The wontons. The latte. The croissant. How much?"

Li Li checked his phone and found the payment record.

"The wontons were twenty-eight, ten for the bowl. The latte was thirty-eight. The croissant was eighteen."

He paused.

"Ninety-four."

Jiang Rumu handed him her phone, the payment code glowing.

Li Li glanced at the screen but didn't scan it.

"No need. Basic partner obligation, no charge."

Jiang Rumu's phone hovered in mid-air.

"You're a non-celebrity, the kind without a job position, and you bought me a ninety-four yuan breakfast."

"Yeah."

"What's your monthly income?"

Li Li thought for three seconds. He hadn't checked the original owner's savings yet. In his past life, his last month of delivering food, after rent, he had 3,200 in hand.

"That question is outside the scope of the basic partner obligation Q&A."

The comments went blank again.

Jiang Rumu withdrew her phone.

She didn't press further. But her movement of putting the phone away was half a beat slower than before.

In the bottom right corner of the wall-mounted screen, the number of online viewers was fixed at 5.7 million.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the white FlyEmirates passenger jet began to connect to the boarding bridge.

Li Li's phone vibrated.

A message from the Production Team group—

"Dear guests, please return to the VIP Hall at 11:00 to pick up your tickets and itinerary. Please confirm you have your passport in hand."

The next one—

"Gentle reminder: The local temperature in Dubai is 32°C, please prepare for sun protection."

He closed the message and his gaze swept across the notification bar.

A news notification was sitting at the top, half the headline visible—

"Israel's Fifth Fleet completes largest joint exercise in the Persian Gulf—"

His finger slid past it, not clicking.

The partial headline sank, pushed down by the next notification.