Ye Feng woke late.
His heart stopped. He pushed himself and glanced toward the clock on his phone.
"Damn, I'm late," he murmured.
He was not late for the classes, but he was late for breakfast. He doesn't have time to go outside, eat and come to the room to get ready for college.
Ye Feng exhaled.
"From today onwards, I should arrange something to cook food in the room. If I eat daily, my wallet will be empty," he said himself.
"Alright, I can't skip breakfast," he muttered. "Today, outside it is."
He washed up quickly, changed clothes, and stepped out of his room. The wooden floor creaked softly as he moved toward the stairs.
Halfway down, he stopped. A smell drifted up from below.
It was warm, rich and comforting.
Ye Feng froze.
It wasn't the normal street food scent or instant noodles. Something home-cooked food. Maybe, toasted bread with omelettes, with some milk. Ye Feng thought himself.
His stomach growled,
"What is that? Where is the smell coming from?" he murmured.
The smell was coming from Shen's place downstairs.
He took another step down. Then another. He stopped near the bottom of the stairs, standing in the hallway.
He inhaled slowly.
The aroma wrapped around him, inviting him to eat the food. His body leaned forward slightly. He stood there, smelling the aroma of the food.
Then suddenly the door opened.
Ye Feng stiffened instantly.
Shen stood there, one hand on the doorframe. She wore a casual home outfit—loose top, simple pants, hair tied up messily. For a split second, her expression mirrored his own surprise.
Then she smiled.
"Morning," she said.
Ye Feng's face heated up immediately. "M-morning."
He realized how ridiculous he must look—standing there, frozen, clearly caught inhaling the aroma from her kitchen like a starving stray.
Shen tilted her head slightly, then glanced behind her, as if only now remembering the stove. "Ah… I was just making breakfast."
"Yes," Ye Feng replied far too quickly. "I—I can smell that."
Then Shen laughed, a soft sound that broke the tension. "You're going out to eat, right?"
Ye Feng hesitated.
"I was about to…" he admitted.
She observed him for a moment, eyes sharp. Then she stepped aside and opened the door wider.
"Come in."
Ye Feng blinked. "Huh?"
"You don't have to eat outside every day," Shen said casually. "It's troublesome. And expensive."
She crossed her arms lightly and added, "Come eat here in the mornings, daily."
His brain stalled. "Daily?"
She nodded. "Mmm. You help me with small things—cleaning, carrying stuff, whatever—and we eat together. Fair deal," she said.
Ye Feng stood there, caught between surprise and hesitation. Eating together felt… intimate. And yet—
His stomach growled again, loudly, completely shameless.
Shen raised an eyebrow.
"Alright," he said quietly.
She smiled. "Good. Come on."
Breakfast was simple.
Fried eggs, slightly crisp at the edges, and warm bread. A small bowl of porridge.
Ye Feng hadn't realized how long it had been since he'd eaten something like this.
They sat across from each other at the small table. For a while, neither spoke. The only sounds were the clinking of chopsticks and the quiet hum of the morning outside.
Shen broke the silence first. "College today?"
"Yes," Ye Feng replied. "Still getting used to it."
She nodded. "Donghe City College isn't bad. It's just… different."
He smiled faintly. "Different is fine."
She looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, then returned to her food.
When they finished, Ye Feng stood up quickly. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Shen said. "Just don't forget—you're helping."
He nodded seriously. "Of course."
Upstairs, back in his room, Ye Feng felt oddly lighter.
He stepped onto the balcony, enjoying the morning air. Across from him, the opposite balcony door was open.
The arrogant woman stood there.
She held her phone tightly, her voice sharp and restrained.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I need more time."
A pause.
"No. I can't pay that yet."
Another pause. Her jaw tightened. "Stop pressuring me."
She lowered the phone slightly—and saw him.
Her eyes narrowed instantly.
"Are you enjoying the show?" she snapped.
Ye Feng startled. "What? No—I was just—"
She scoffed, turned her back on him, and walked inside, slamming the door shut.
Ye Feng stared at the closed door, then rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"This town," he muttered, "is really something."
Ye Feng arrived Donghe City College.
He hadn't yet known the layout, so he wandered more than walked, letting his eyes take in notice boards, classrooms, and clusters of students chatting loudly.
"Hey."
Someone tapped his shoulder.
Ye Feng turned to see a young man with an easy grin and a confident posture. "You new here?"
"Yes," Ye Feng replied.
"Oh, great." The man laughed. "I can tell. First-year vibe. Where were you staying?"
Ye Feng hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Near Linhai Street."
The man's expression changed—just slightly.
"Opposite the old two-story house?"
Ye Feng's brows furrowed. "Yes."
The man lowered his voice. "Then listen to me, bro. Stay away from the woman living there."
Ye Feng frowned. "Why?"
"In the past, her family was powerful," the man said quietly. "Money, connections, everything. But now? Drowning in debt. Everyone left her."
He leaned closer. "Debt collectors. Powerful families. Messy stuff. If you get involved, you face risks you don't need."
Ye Feng listened.
"Thanks for the warning," he said eventually.
That day, classes were unexpectedly cancelled.
Students cheered. Some left immediately. Others stayed, wandering the campus aimlessly.
Ye Feng chose to walk.
He explored the library, sat beneath a tree, watched strangers laugh and argue and live. For the first time since arriving, he felt something settle inside him.
This wasn't Qingyuan Imperial Academy. But it was still a beginning.
Evening came.
As Ye Feng returned home, he noticed a car parked awkwardly near the opposite house. The arrogant woman stood beside it, arms crossed, frustration written plainly across her face.
The engine sputtered and died.
Ye Feng hesitated—then approached. "Car trouble?"
She glanced at him sharply, then looked away. "It won't start."
"Battery?" he asked.
"Probably," she replied.
He knelt, checked quickly, and made a small adjustment. "Try now."
She hesitated, then turned the key. The engine started.
She froze, then exhaled slowly. "Thank you."
"Ye Feng," he said. "My name."
She paused. "Lin Jiao."
She nodded once, got into the car, and drove off.
Ye Feng watched her leave, thoughtful.
By the time Ye Feng returned home, the sky had already darkened. After washing his face and tossing his backpack aside, he lay down on the bed without changing his clothes. He slept for some time.
When he woke again, the room was dim. Night had fully settled.
Ye Feng sat up, rubbed his eyes, and checked the time. It wasn't too late for dinner. He stepped outside his room.
Downstairs, Shen was alone.
He remembered the morning—breakfast, her casual invitation, the way she spoke. He hesitated for a moment before going there.
I should ask if she needs help, he thought. That's what I agreed to.
He stepped out and went downstairs quietly. As he approached her door, voices reached his ears.
Shen was on the phone.
"I really can't act like everything's normal anymore," she said, her voice lower than usual. "The pressure from the debt is increasing. I'm barely holding things together."
Ye Feng froze.
"I know… I know it's not your responsibility," Shen continued, her tone tight. "But please. If there's any way you can help—"
The words hit him harder than he expected. Before he could move, the lights flickered. Then everything went dark.
"Ah—?"
Shen's voice cut off abruptly. A second later, the front door opened.
Ye Feng instinctively stepped back, going into the shadow of the staircase. From there, he could see Shen step outside, looking up and down the street.
The streetlights were on. Windows glowed softly.
Only this house was dark.
"What the hell," Shen muttered.
She stepped back inside and called out, "Feng?"
Ye Feng straightened. "Yes?"
"Can you check the fuse?" she asked. "It's probably blown again."
"Sure," Ye Feng replied.
He came out from the stairs and headed toward the small utility area near the back. Shen followed him, holding a flashlight.
The fuse box was mounted high.
Ye Feng dragged over a stool and climbed up carefully.
"The fuse is burnt," he said. "I'll replace it."
"I'll hold the light," Shen replied, stepping closer.
The space was narrow between them.
As Ye Feng reached up to fix the fuse, he could feel her presence just behind him—the warmth of her body, the faint scent of her perfume, subtle but persistent.
The light flickered back on.
"Got it," Ye Feng said, relief in his voice.
He turned to climb down. As he stepped off the stool, his hand brushed against her chest.
Ye Feng can feel that they were huge and soft.
His mind went blank.
"I—!" Ye Feng said. "I'm so sorry! That was an accident, I swear!"
Shen froze for half a second.
Then she exhaled and laughed softly.
"It's fine," she said. "You didn't do it on purpose."
Her voice was calm.
Ye Feng's face burned. "I really didn't mean to—"
"I know," she interrupted gently. "Relax."
She glanced down, just briefly.
Ye Feng didn't notice her gaze. His body—reacting to the closeness, the scent, the moment. He stood stiffly, trying not to move, praying she wouldn't realize. He was trying to hide his erection.
But Shen noticed.
Her eyes lingered for a fraction. She bit her lips a little bit, but said nothing.
"Well," she said lightly, stepping back, "power's back. You should rest."
"Yes. Good night," Ye Feng replied.
"Good night," Shen echoed.
They went their separate ways.
Upstairs, Ye Feng closed his door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. His heart was still racing.
Man, you have to get a grip on these things, he told himself.
He stepped onto the balcony, letting the cool night air press against his heated skin. But his mind wasn't quiet.
The accidental touch replayed itself with cruel clarity—the warmth, the softness, the closeness. He clenched his hands on the railing, forcing the thought away.
Across the street, movement caught his eye. A man stood at Lin Jiao's gate.
He was rough-looking, with broad shoulders. But he was not the person Ye Feng saw yesterday.
He moved quickly, slipping a letter into her mailbox, then turning away without hesitation. His footsteps faded down the street.
Ye Feng's gaze lingered on the mailbox.
Maybe a debt collection notice, he thought.