Chapter 30

Du Ruo hadn’t expected Jing Ming to be serious. But he was, he really did want his dinner.
She didn’t want to be alone with him, so as soon as class let out, she clung to Li Wei like a lifeline, thanking him for joining and inviting him to dinner too.
Jing Ming watched this sorry attempt from the sidelines, but didn’t comment.
Except Li Wei promptly dashed her hopes: "I already have plans with some middle school friends," he added, reassuringly, "And honestly, you don’t need to thank me. It’s no big deal, don’t stress about it."
Which left Du Ruo with no way out.
She trudged out of the teaching building with Jing Ming, heading toward the campus gates.
Walking two or three paces apart, neither of them said a word.
Every now and then classmates passed between them, none the wiser that they were together.
It was May, northern summer arrived almost without warning, and the wisteria on the squat buildings lining the road was just starting to bud.
Du Ruo looked up, green leaves against a blue sky, the sunset turning the clouds gorgeous shades of pink and gold.
She was still gawking at the sky as they crossed an intersection, when a bike came barreling through. Before she could react, Jing Ming yanked her out of the way.
She stumbled, heart nearly leaping out of her chest.
"Sorry!" the cyclist called, already whirling away like a mini tornado.
She was still trembling, heart in her throat, when Jing Ming’s temper flared, "You got eyes on top of your head or what? You planning to walk right into the sky?"
She shrank a little under his scolding, pointing helplessly at the horizon, "I was watching the sunset."
"..."
Jing Ming suddenly felt like he’d punched a pillow, pointless, satisfying nothing at all.
He rolled his eyes and glanced up into the trees.
He had to admit, the sky was awash in color.
Du Ruo quietly slipped her hand from his and put an extra step between them.
She’d almost crashed into him just now, heart racing, still not back to normal. For a split second, she’d even felt, maybe, a little grateful he’d pulled her back.
But as she took a deep breath, looking up at the sundrenched trees, an old memory from last autumn flashed: standing there with him, saying, "Look, aren’t the maple leaves pretty?"
Her heart twinged, like a needle’s prick. Not quite pain, but not comfortable either.
It hit her in a daze: so much time had passed. More than half a year.
Time rushed by, and she’d changed, she wasn’t the timid, threadbare version of herself from before.
They walked on in silence, he expressionless, she just the same. Two strangers, sharing a sidewalk but not a word.
He said nothing the whole way.
And she was just as lost for words, this was so awkward, why even bother with dinner?
But honestly, it barely bothered Jing Ming. He’d always been the center of his own universe; awkwardness didn’t really register for people like him.
The only thing niggling at him was something he couldn’t put a finger on, and wouldn’t admit if he could.
When they came to a turn, she unconsciously stepped a little ahead and to his side.
He glanced over, her hair was longer, brushing past her shoulders, bright white barrette tucked at her temple. She wore a perfectly-fitted beige jacket, jeans, and short boots.
She was completely relaxed now, walking with a spring in her step. Even after his earlier scolding, she was back to staring up at the sky, lips pursed every so often, the faintest dimple appearing on her cheek. Like the heavens always had some private marvel just for her.
He flicked a glance upward, just summer blooms bursting on the branches, the evening sky alight with color.
Pfft. Boring.
Up in the trees, a pair of sparrows started bickering, darting and pecking, their noisy chirps unexpectedly amusing.
Du Ruo couldn’t help but laugh, her smile silent and bright. She rubbed her head and looked down, and accidentally glanced in Jing Ming’s direction, just in time to meet his gaze.
She froze, flustered, and immediately looked away. She didn’t glance back again.
Outside the campus gates, Du Ruo chose a Cantonese place she’d eaten at before with her dormmates, spotless, thoughtfully decorated, not cheap but not flashy either. The perfect spot for dinner with someone you need to impress, but not spoil.
She braced herself for the cost and handed the menu to Jing Ming. "Go ahead, you order."
He paged through with idle interest, asking, "Anything I want?"
"...Yeah, whatever you want."
"Stir-fried shrimp."
"..." Oof, Du Ruo remembered that dish, 128 yuan, big spender.
"Roast squab."
"..." Ugh, 98 for that one.
Yep, all the dishes her roommates vetoed as too pricey, he clocked every last one.
"Celery with lily bulbs."
Okay, that one was a bit more reasonable. 38.
"Matsutake chicken soup."
"..." A teeny tiny bowl for 58!
"Is that two servings?" the server checked.
Jing Ming: "Of course."
Du Ruo bit her lip, wanting to say she’d pass, but swallowed the words.
"Custard buns for dim sum. Sugar cane juice."
"..."
Goodbye, savings.
Jing Ming casually closed the menu with a snap, after catching her blankly zoning out, face painted with financial devastation. He couldn’t help but arch a brow, lips quirking in amusement.
She immediately sat up straighter, asking, "Done ordering?"
"Want to add more?" he volleyed back.
"No." She widened her eyes, and said slowly, "Or maybe..." absentmindedly tilting her head, "Let’s eat first, add more if we’re still hungry?"
"Works for me."
The server read back the order.
Du Ruo winced, these dishes were all bite-sized, all pricey.
Ugh!
Whatever. Three weeks of tutoring wages down the drain, might as well treat herself and eat well tonight.
Besides, she really wanted to try the shrimp and pigeon in chicken broth too, it had to be delicious. The thought alone made her mood a little brighter.
As they waited for the food, the two sat face-to-face, stubbornly silent, as if the first one to speak would lose.
Du Ruo avoided looking at him, refused to talk, and instead focused intently on scraping at the edge of the table with her finger. She had all the poise of someone who wouldn’t care if the awkwardness crystallized into bricks around them.
Jing Ming sat there for a while, already bored to death, but managed to restrain himself. He wiped his hands with a napkin, frowned as if they were still dirty, and got up to wash them again.
She didn’t even ask where he was going, or look up.
After washing his hands, Jing Ming detoured to the front counter to pay, and even ordered her an extra dessert, mango pomelo sago.
When he returned, she was still in that “I’d rather be anywhere else” mood.
He watched her for a bit, feeling genuinely annoyed by her defeated air. Unable to hold it back, he sneered, “You don’t have to sit there looking like this is torture. I’m not thrilled to be eating with you either.”
Du Ruo: “…”
If you’re so unwilling, why on earth did you come along? Bored out of your mind?
She kept scratching the table and mumbled back, “I didn’t make you come.”
He twitched an eyebrow. “If my mom wasn’t calling me every day and bugging me about you, you think I’d bother?”
That got Du Ruo to look up. “Your mom…”
Jing Ming finally figured it out, his mom was basically her diplomatic pass.
He put on a sour face, downright impatient: “Yeah, her. She always asks how you’re doing, how should I know how you’re doing?”
His tone was awful, yet she mellowed, replying, “If Auntie asks again, just tell her I’m doing great.”
“You think she buys it? She just assumes I’m brushing her off.” He sounded as if the world owed him big.
Du Ruo didn’t answer.
Either way, she was the one disrupting his life. She might resent it, but she still managed a, “Sorry about that.”
Jing Ming’s face relaxed a little. He leaned back, arm stretched across the table, fingers tapping. “How’ve you been lately?”
Du Ruo looked at him, suspicious: ???
He frowned. “It’s not my question.”
She figured Ming Yi must have asked him to check in, so she nodded obediently. “I’m good. Actually, pretty happy.”
His expression didn’t change, just ticking off boxes: “Grades?”
“Also good.”
“Life in general?”
“All good.”
“Need money?”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“If you need it, just let me know.”
She glanced up, eyes meeting his for half a second, cheeks a little red. “Really, I don’t.”
“Mm.”
After a beat, he shifted in his chair, cleared his throat. “Seeing anyone?”
Du Ruo’s guard shot up: ???
Jing Ming looked annoyed: “Told you, not my question.”
Du Ruo: “Not at the moment.”
Jing Ming paused. “What do you mean, ‘not at the moment’?”
“There’s someone chasing me, I’m… still thinking about it.” She ducked her head again, poking at the table, ears going a bit pink.
“Who?”
She looked up. “Auntie asked about that too?”
Jing Ming grabbed his water glass, took a sip, and lectured, “I’m warning you: don’t get so caught up in dating that you mess up school.”
“…” Du Ruo thought nothing sounded weirder than hearing that come from him. She replied, slowly, “Hey, I’m top of my class.”
“…”
Jing Ming didn’t press. He stared at the table next to them for a while, then shifted topics. “What’s your role in Yi Kun’s lab now?”
“Huh?” She thought for a second, but wasn’t sure. “Probably lab assistant? Basically running errands.”
“No salary?”
She shook her head.
“But you helped design the Astro Boy.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded again.
“Besides that, what else have you been doing?”
“Fixing sensors or whatever that they broke during their projects. Basically, whenever they mess up something, I help patch it up.”
Jing Ming went silent for a moment, then asked, “Did anyone from Orbit talk to you about your share in the project?”
Du Ruo looked surprised. “I’m just there to observe and learn! They didn’t even make me pay an entry fee.”
Jing Ming opened his mouth, dumbfounded by her innocence.
She was seriously clueless, didn’t she realize that with her skills, she could already be demanding a slice of the project?
He scoffed, “You should just rename yourself Ruo-stupid.”
Du Ruo: “…”
Annoyed for no reason, he didn’t bother arguing. “Come work with me. I’ll make sure you get a share.”
She froze, a bit lost, as if weighing her options. Finally, she dropped her gaze for a few moments, then replied quietly, not clear if she didn’t care about his offer or just didn’t care about him, “No.”
“….” Jing Ming bit his lip, just barely.
She’d really killed the conversation dead.
And he wasn’t the type to push, so he just let it drop.
She had nothing to say either.
The restaurant buzzed with chatter, but these two just went back to ignoring each other, no eye contact, no words exchanged.
One slouched in his seat, scrolling his phone; the other leaned on the table, twirling her chopsticks.
The kitchen was taking its sweet time with their order.
Finally, after a long while, Jing Ming tried again with a new topic: “What’s the debate topic?”
The sudden question caught her off-guard. She gave him a quick, startled look, still sure their dynamic wasn’t suited to civil conversation, except, maybe, passing messages for Ming Yi.
She slowly gathered her thoughts, then said, “Which breeds more evil: poverty or privilege?”
He: “Hm?”
“You asked about the debate, right? That’s our topic.” She went right back to poking the table, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Poverty and privilege, which one breeds more evil,” he repeated, clearly finding the premise ridiculous.
She picked up on the mocking tone, feeling uncomfortable. “Problem with it?”
“Which side are you on?”
“Against. I’m arguing privilege breeds more evil.” She jabbed at the table edge, as if to make a point.
“Did you draw lots to pick?”
“We chose freely.”
“Huh,” he scoffed, sinking lazily into his chair, dismissive.
“What?” She looked up.
“Nothing.” He shrugged, lifting his glass for another sip. His words were casual, but his eyebrows arched high, a smirk lurking underneath.
That same look, smug and condescending.
She: “You got a problem with my argument?”
“You really love your own little headcanons, don’t you?” Jing Ming set his water down, this time unable to hide a snicker. “You sound just like A-Q, delusional, claiming imaginary moral victories.”
Du Ruo’s face went hot, like she’d just been yanked by the tail.
Anytime he put on that superior attitude, some nerve inside her snapped; she’d get all bristly, desperate to fire back and rehearsing comebacks in her mind, but, in the end, the urge just faded away.
As soon as she realized that, she wilted, shrugged once, and let her energy drain out. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”
Jing Ming: “…”
Okay, what the hell was this mood?
It wasn’t even like punching cotton, the punch didn’t land anywhere. He was practically suffocating from her apathy.
Why did he even bother coming to this dinner again?
Seriously, he was already stuffed full of frustration, who needs actual food now!