Chapter Twenty-Two: Are You Looking Down on Me?

When Lin Xing and Qin Sheng returned carrying a mountain of meat, Chu Xingyu was so surprised he couldn’t utter a single word, and even Jiang Miaomiao, who had seen plenty, was momentarily at a loss.

“Shengsheng, where did you get all this meat?” Jiang Miaomiao asked, her hands already reaching to take what Qin Sheng offered, kindly handing her a glass of water as well.

“From Qin Mengchun and Li Chengbin,” Lin Xing replied casually.

Chu Xingyu, who spent every day with Lin Xing, was well aware of Li Chengbin’s shady dealings, yet he never imagined Qin Sheng could slip past such strict supervision and emerge unscathed.

“You didn’t run into any danger, did you?” Chu Xingyu asked, worried, immediately rising to circle around Qin Sheng and Lin Xing, checking them for injuries.

Lin Xing laughed heartily, pushing the fretful Chu Xingyu back into his chair. “We’re fine. I worked well with my grandaunt—no one noticed.”

Seeing Qin Sheng nod in agreement, Chu Xingyu finally relaxed.

“That’s a lot of meat. Are we cooking something special?” Jiang Miaomiao stared at the two large bags of beef and lamb, a bit overwhelmed. They’d been eating well these past days, but this was on another level.

Qin Sheng beckoned Lin Xing to bring in the groceries they had left temporarily in the hallway. “Let’s take a break today. Tonight, we’ll have barbecue and hotpot on the rooftop.” Qin Sheng laid everything out on the makeshift table, smiling.

“Oh, yeah!” Lin Xing couldn’t help but cheer.

Chu Xingyu and Jiang Miaomiao’s eyes lit up; the thought of hotpot and grilled meat made their mouths water.

“I’ll go wash the vegetables!” Jiang Miaomiao exclaimed excitedly, hugging the fresh cabbage and spinach she’d just brought from the cafeteria’s cold storage, whistling as she headed for the bathroom.

“I’ll tidy up,” Chu Xingyu said, moving off to his own tasks, leaving only Lin Xing and Qin Sheng behind.

Qin Sheng glanced over the ingredients, feeling she’d forgotten something.

“Grandaunt, don’t look at me like that, you’re scaring me…” Lin Xing, contemplating a rest, turned to find Qin Sheng’s mischievous smile.

Qin Sheng patted his shoulder. “Come with me.”

Lin Xing’s face fell, but he obediently followed Qin Sheng.

They walked all the way to the rooftop before Qin Sheng stopped.

“Aren’t we eating tonight? Why are we on the rooftop now?” he asked.

Qin Sheng smiled meaningfully.

Night was approaching, the moon climbing the sky. For some reason, the weather had been unusually pleasant these few days—rarely any extreme conditions, sunshine almost daily.

“Xingyu, hand me that cabbage.”

“Lin Xing, put in more effort! Where’s all that muscle of yours?” Lin Xing, feeling utterly hopeless, pedaled the generator with a creaking whine, the fire beneath the hotpot flickering uncertainly.

Qin Sheng knew Lin Xing had worked hard today and stepped forward to let him rest.

“No way! How could I let a girl do the heavy lifting?” Lin Xing’s spirit revived, pedaling as if a wind had picked up; the flames surged.

No matter how Qin Sheng coaxed, Lin Xing refused to leave the generator.

Qin Sheng could only step away, helpless.

“Manual power, huh? Want to try this instead?” A familiar voice reached Qin Sheng’s ear, and she turned faster than she realized.

“You’re here.”

Song Qing’an nodded, placing a pitch-black stone under the pot, then lighting a fire. Instantly, flames leapt up, and the hotpot boiled.

“Whoa, that’s amazing!” Lin Xing jumped off the generator, staring at the bubbling hotpot. “This is way better than my two legs.”

“Exactly!” Jiang Miaomiao chimed in.

Song Qing’an looked up, meeting Qin Sheng’s gaze. “This is the perpetual flame from Maple Red Mountain.”

“Maple Red Mountain? I’ve never heard of it. Is there really a mountain by that name?” Chu Xingyu, an avid traveler, asked in confusion.

“There’s always someone beyond, and mountains beyond mountains,” Qin Sheng explained.

Chu Xingyu didn’t pursue it further, joining Lin Xing and the others to enthusiastically investigate the perpetual flame.

Song Qing’an walked over to Qin Sheng, teasing, “You trust me so much—aren’t you afraid I’m making things up?”

“I never really believed you in the first place.” Qin Sheng smiled, taking the nearest seat.

Song Qing’an smiled helplessly, about to sit on Qin Sheng’s right when Lin Xing blocked his way.

“Brother, that’s my seat.” Lin Xing feigned a grin and planted himself firmly next to Qin Sheng.

He wasn’t about to let his grandaunt be whisked away so easily; he’d keep an eye on her.

Song Qing’an didn’t bother to argue, patiently preparing to sit on Qin Sheng’s other side. Jiang Miaomiao apologized shyly, “Brother, this is my seat…”

“Then Qing’an, sit with me,” Chu Xingyu offered, trying to ease the awkwardness.

Qin Sheng, nibbling a snack from the table, couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

The small gesture was noticed entirely by Song Qing’an.

“Your dagger belongs to me,” Song Qing’an said quietly behind Jiang Miaomiao.

Jiang Miaomiao, midway to her mouth with a piece of meat, immediately shifted her seat. “Please, take it.”

She moved to Chu Xingyu’s side, bowl and chopsticks in hand, and shrugged helplessly at Lin Xing.

No help for it—she owed Song Qing’an, so she had to swallow her pride.

Lin Xing, frustrated and indignant, glared at Song Qing’an as he sat on the other side of Qin Sheng. Jiang Miaomiao pursed her lips; she could almost feel Lin Xing’s chopsticks snapping in his hands.

As Song Qing’an sat, Qin Sheng was about to scoot her stool to give him more space, but Song Qing’an pressed her hand firmly.

The sudden intimacy froze the atmosphere; everyone stared at the large hand covering Qin Sheng’s small one.

Lin Xing felt his molars grinding to dust.

Song Qing’an, realizing his mistake, quickly released her hand, swallowing. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a barbecue? How did it turn into hotpot?”

Qin Sheng, a bit embarrassed, sensed the awkward mood and rushed to smooth things over. “We couldn’t find the grill, so we switched to hotpot. Don’t you like hotpot?”

Song Qing’an shook his head, turned to Qin Sheng, and smiled with a hint of mischief. “I like both.”

“Oh ho!” Jiang Miaomiao, a seasoned fan of romance, couldn’t help but exclaim.

Qin Sheng avoided Song Qing’an’s gaze, burying herself in her bowl of freshly cooked beef. “Eat quickly, or it’ll get cold.”

Song Qing’an didn’t tease further; he picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks, but the spicy peppers made him cough uncontrollably.

Qin Sheng, hearing him cough, quickly handed him a bottle of water, apologizing, “We all like it spicy, so we didn’t prepare a clear broth.”

“It’s fine. Grandaunt knows I love it extra spicy and even added two blocks of hotpot base,” Lin Xing teased, openly hinting at Qin Sheng’s special care for him.

Qin Sheng shot Lin Xing a look—she distinctly remembered him insisting he couldn’t handle too much spice and refusing to let Jiang Miaomiao add a second block. She was confused.

After Lin Xing’s comment, Song Qing’an coughed even harder.

“Not holding up too well, huh?” Lin Xing boasted.

Jiang Miaomiao seized the chance to shut him up, stuffing a mouthful of spicy beef into his mouth.

In an instant, there were two coughing victims.

Qin Sheng smiled helplessly, opening another bottle of water for Lin Xing. “Why pretend you can handle the heat?”

“I just got choked, not that I can’t handle spice,” Lin Xing protested instinctively.

“Enough, enough,” Jiang Miaomiao hurried over to stop him from embarrassing himself further.

“Feeling better?” Qin Sheng gently patted Song Qing’an’s back to help him.

Song Qing’an glanced at the small hand soothing him, recalling the sensation from earlier—soft, warm, very comforting.

“Much better,” he said, smiling up at Qin Sheng.

Qin Sheng nodded and withdrew her hand, turning to check on Lin Xing.

“Cough, cough, grandaunt, I need a pat too,” Lin Xing said, clearly noticing Qin Sheng’s gesture toward Song Qing’an and feigning a cough for attention.

Qin Sheng saw through his antics and found it amusing.

“Are you sure?” she walked over. “Do you remember my technique in the cafeteria?”

Lin Xing recalled Qin Sheng’s skill in dispatching zombies back then and immediately sat up straight. “Strange, it’s suddenly gone!”

Jiang Miaomiao burst out laughing, rubbing Lin Xing’s head as she returned to her seat.

Song Qing’an chuckled, shaking his head.

“The red oil pot is a bit too spicy—want to rinse your food in water?” Qin Sheng pushed a bowl of water toward Song Qing’an.

Song Qing’an glanced at the others’ expressions, then turned to Qin Sheng with a roguish smile. “Are you looking down on me?”

Qin Sheng rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.”

Jiang Miaomiao laughed again. The mood at the table warmed up; with so many chatterboxes together, the conversation never stalled.

“If only we had some wine—this is such a happy occasion,” Lin Xing lamented, shaking dice. They used to drink while playing games…

“Who says we don’t?” Qin Sheng stood up. With her Doraemon-like storage space, there was no way she’d be without wine. “Wait here.”

With that, Qin Sheng left the table and stepped off the rooftop.