"Lin Feng!"
The voice cut through the ambient noise of the restaurant, clear and cold and perfectly controlled.
Conversations died mid-sentence at nearby tables. Chopsticks froze halfway to mouths. The soft jazz playing through the ceiling speakers seemed to fade into background static as every head in the vicinity turned toward the source.
Lin Feng didn't turn around.
It wasn't out of arrogance. Nor was it out of deliberate dismissal.
He simply had no idea who was calling him.
Who is that?
He was in the middle of lifting the teapot, its ceramic warm against his palm. Steam curled upward as he refilled Xiao Yue's cup, the pale green liquid rising to just below the rim.
It was a woman's voice. I don't recognize it. Should I turn around?
He hesitated, teapot still in hand.
Wait. I'm supposed to be the second young master of the Lin Family now. One of the wealthiest families in Jiangcheng.
Do young masters just... turn around when someone calls their name? Probably not, right?
He'd never been rich before, of course. Never been a young master. Never been anyone important at all.
In his first life, he was born in a poor rural village where the roads turned to mud every rainy season and meat on the dinner table was a luxury reserved for holidays. Intelligence officer, yes. Skilled at his work, yes. But he was born with absolutely nothing.
Everything he knew about wealthy families came from Earth media—movies where billionaire heirs swept into rooms without acknowledging servants, TV dramas where young masters made people wait just because they could, news clips of celebrity children acting like the world owed them something simply for existing.
In those dramas, rich kids always make people wait, don't they? They don't just jump up whenever someone calls.
So... I probably shouldn't turn around immediately either?
Right?
He set the teapot back on its warming plate and picked up his chopsticks, selecting another piece of braised fish for Xiao Yue's bowl.
If they want something, they'll say what it is. That's how this works... I think.
Behind him, the silence stretched.
At the table nearest to them, a girl leaned toward her friend without taking her eyes off the scene. "He's not even turning around!"
"The audacity," her friend breathed back.
An older student at another table shook his head slowly. "That's how rich people are, I guess. Different rules for different worlds."
"But that's her!" another voice hissed, careful not to say the name aloud. "You know—the person!"
----------------------
Then Xiao Yue heard it.
That voice.
She'd recognize it anywhere—in a crowded mall, in a noisy stadium, in her sleep. She'd heard it countless times over five years of stalking him. In hallways. In classrooms. On phone calls Lin Feng took while she observed from the shadows.
Su Qingxue?
Xiao Yue's chopsticks paused midway to her mouth, but she didn't say anything. Not yet.
Her eyes flickered to Lin Feng.
He wasn't turning around.
Are they fighting?
That was her first thought. It had to be a fight. Some kind of argument. Maybe Su Qingxue had finally pushed him too far with her demands, or maybe he'd discovered something that upset him. That would explain why he was ignoring her.
Maybe he's trying to give her the cold shoulder. Make her chase him for once.
It made sense. Four years of desperate pursuit didn't just disappear overnight. This had to be a tactic. A lovers' quarrel. Something that would blow over by tomorrow.
She watched him lift the teapot and refill her cup with steady hands. Steam curled upward between them.
The silence stretched.
Behind them, Su Qingxue's patience ran out.
"Lin Feng!"
The second call came sharper than the first. More insistent. The voice of someone who wasn't used to being ignored.
Still, Lin Feng didn't turn.
Xiao Yue's brow furrowed slightly beneath her hood.
He's really not turning around.
Even after she called him twice.
What is really going on?
She studied his profile carefully—the relaxed set of his jaw, the unhurried way he set down the teapot, the complete absence of tension in his shoulders. There was no anger there. No hurt. No stubbornness.
He looked like someone who genuinely hadn't registered the voice as important.
Does he... no… why does he look like he doesn't know who the person behind him is?
The thought seemed absurd. How could he not recognize Su Qingxue's voice? He'd spent four years hanging on her every word.
But the more she watched him, the more she became convinced. He wasn't ignoring Su Qingxue. He simply didn't seem to realize who was calling.
Should I tell him?
She hesitated.
Part of her—the selfish part, the desperate part, the part that had loved him for five years without hope—wanted to say nothing. Let Su Qingxue stand there calling until her voice went hoarse. Let her experience what it felt like to be invisible for once.
But another part of her was curious. Burning with curiosity.
What will he do if I intervene on his game?
Will he jump up like always? Drop everything and run to her side?
Or...
She had to know.
"Lin Feng, Ms. Su Qingxue is calling for you."
Xiao Yue's voice was calm and polite, but her eyes never left his face. They were watching. Waiting. Looking for any reaction—a flinch, a tensing of muscles, the familiar desperate light that always appeared in his eyes whenever that woman was mentioned.
Lin Feng's hand paused for just a moment on the teapot handle.
"Oh. Qingxue. It's you."
His tone was flat. Casual. Like someone had mentioned that it might rain later.
And then—
He didn't turn.
He picked up his chopsticks and selected another piece of braised fish, placing it carefully in her bowl instead.
Xiao Yue stopped breathing.
He knows.
He knows it's her.
And he's not turning around.
She couldn't believe it. Couldn't process it. Four years of watching him chase that woman like a lovesick fool, and now he couldn't even be bothered to look?
This has to be the fight. This has to be him being stubborn. There's no way he's actually over her.
...Right?
But doubt crept in despite herself.
It simply doesn't make sense.
The Lin Feng she knew would have been on his feet by the second syllable of Su Qingxue's name. Would have been apologizing before she even finished speaking. Would have abandoned Xiao Yue mid-sentence without a backward glance.
This Lin Feng was putting fish in her bowl.
It doesn't matter why.
She forced her racing heart to slow.
Whether he's fighting with her, or ignoring her, or genuinely done with her—it doesn't matter. He's here. With me. Right now.
An opportunity is an opportunity.
I'll take what I can get.
She kept her expression carefully neutral and picked up her chopsticks to eat the fish he'd given her.
----------------------
Two figures stood behind him. He could sense them without looking—two distinct presences casting shadows across the sunlit floor near their booth.
Su Qingxue, apparently. And someone else.
He didn't know who the second person was, and he found that he didn't particularly care to turn around and find out.
If they want something, they can just say what it is. That's how this works, right? Rich people don't chase after others. Others come to them.
At least, that's how it always worked in the dramas.
Around them, the restaurant had transformed into a live broadcast studio. Phones appeared at every table, held up at angles that suggested their owners were trying very hard to look casual about recording.
A girl near the window had even propped her device against a water glass for a better shot. Someone in the back was clearly livestreaming, whispering commentary into their screen.
Su Qingxue stepped closer. When she spoke again, her voice was carefully calibrated—just the right amount of concern, just the right hint of vulnerability.
"Lin Feng, I've been trying to reach you all morning. I was worried about you. You never ignore my messages."
She was talking to his back. He was still facing Xiao Yue.
Worried? About me?
Huh. The original Lin Feng would have melted at that, wouldn't he? He would have dropped everything and run to her side, apologizing for making her worry.
But I'm not him. And I still don't even know what she looks like.
"I thought something happened to you."
Sympathetic murmurs rippled through the nearby tables. An older woman clicked her tongue softly. A guy nudged his friend as if to say drama incoming.
Lin Feng picked up his tea, took a slow sip, and set the cup back down on its saucer with a soft clink.
"I was busy."
Three words, and then nothing else. He didn't elaborate. Didn't apologize.
He didn't even turn his head.
The restaurant went dead silent.
At the table nearest to them, a girl's jaw dropped so far her friend had to reach over and push it closed. Across the room, someone choked on their drink.
"He's not even looking at her," a guy whispered, loud enough for half the restaurant to hear.
"This is NOT the Lin Feng I know," his companion hissed back. "Where's the desperate bootlicker who follows her around like a lost puppy?"
Somewhere in the back, a student was typing so frantically into his phone that his thumbs were practically blurring. Breaking news for the campus gossip groups, delivered fresh and hot.
----------------------
While Su Qingxue was still processing his dismissal, the second figure moved.
Lin Feng heard footsteps coming around the side of the booth—not the sharp click of designer heels, but softer, more practical shoes. Before he could react, someone had taken his arm with a gentle but urgent grip.
He turned his head.
A girl stood beside him, young and visibly worried. She had waist-length black hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, braided to keep it manageable. Her eyes were bright and earnest, filled with genuine confusion rather than calculation.
There was flour dust on her sleeve that she clearly hadn't noticed.
She was looking up at him directly, her face fully visible, hiding nothing.
"Lin Feng?" Her voice was soft and uncertain, nothing like the carefully calibrated tones still hovering somewhere behind him. "What's happening? I don't understand. Last night everything was normal, and now..."
She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the situation—at Xiao Yue, at the untouched food, at the woman he refused to turn around for.
Lin Feng studied her face while his mind worked through the puzzle.
She came with Su Qingxue, so probably someone close to her. A young—freshman, like me. That flour dust on her sleeve... culinary student? And she's genuinely worried. Not performing concern like the voice behind me. She's actually upset.
She's also holding my arm like she actually cares what happens to me.
The pieces clicked into place.
The original Lin Feng paid someone for matchmaking help. Three years of advice and assistance. A girl whose family ran a noodle shop—he helped them financially, and she helped him pursue Su Qingxue.
She matches the description from the novel...
This must be Zhang Tingting.
[★☆☆☆☆☆☆ Zhang Tingting — The Culinary Arts Student (Affection: 50)]
Heroine No. 18
One-star rating? Really? The author must have been drunk when he graded her. She's three stars minimum—maybe higher.
He looked at her worried expression, at the flour dust she hadn't bothered to brush off, at the way she'd walked right past Su Qingxue to come to his side.
Unlike most of the heroines in that trash novel, this girl is genuinely good. The original Lin Feng's memories confirm it. She gave honest advice when she could have just taken his money and strung him along.
This was the first time he was seeing her face with his own eyes. The first time confirming her identity for himself rather than relying on secondhand memories.
----------------------
Su Qingxue watched her best friend walk to Lin Feng's side.
For a moment, irritation flickered across her face—what was Tingting doing, going to him without being told? But then she understood, and her expression smoothed into something like satisfaction.
Ah. She's pleading for me.
Good. That's actually smart.
Zhang Tingting had always been the emotional one. The sincere one. The one who could cry real tears and mean every word she said. If anyone could crack through whatever tantrum Lin Feng was throwing, it would be her.
Let her soften him up. I'll step in once he's ready to apologize.
She watched Zhang Tingting take his arm, watched her look up at him with those earnest eyes, watched her say something too quiet to hear from this distance. Playing the concerned friend. The worried mediator.
Perfect. She knows exactly what she's doing.
Su Qingxue relaxed slightly, letting Zhang Tingting do the heavy lifting. This was how it had always worked between them—Zhang Tingting handled the messy emotional labor, and Su Qingxue swooped in for the resolution.
But something was wrong.
Lin Feng wasn't looking at Zhang Tingting like someone being scolded. He wasn't defensive. He wasn't even apologetic.
He was looking at her like... like he was seeing her. Really seeing her, for the first time.
And he wassmiling—not at Su Qingxue, but at Zhang Tingting.
What is she saying to him?
This is taking too long. What is she even saying to him?
She's supposed to make him feel guilty—not make him smile at her like that.
Su Qingxue moved around the table, positioning herself where he would have to acknowledge her.
"Can we talk? Privately?"
Lin Feng didn't even glance in her direction. Instead, he turned to the hooded girl across from him—the nobody in the oversized sweatshirt—and asked if she wanted more soup.
He's still ignoring me.
Even with Tingting right there pleading my case.
She shot a glance at the hooded girl. Quick. Dismissive. Furniture.
"There's clearly been some misunderstanding—"
"There's nothing to discuss."
Lin Feng's voice was flat. Final. He still hadn't even looked at her.
Su Qingxue's patience snapped.
"Who is this?" She gestured at the hooded figure with barely concealed disdain. "I don't think I've met her before."
Lin Feng set down his chopsticks with a soft click. Deliberate. Unhurried.
He still was not looking at her.
"This is Xiao Yue. Our classmate. And more importantly—"
He paused, and something in his tone shifted.
"—someone I actually want to spend time with."
----------------------
The restaurant erupted.
Phones lifted from every table. People half-rose from their seats for a better view. Someone gasped so loudly that heads turned toward her before snapping back to the main attraction.
"Oh my god, he STILL hasn't looked at her!"
"Even after all that? Even after she said she was worried?"
"Wait, is that Zhang Tingting? Su Qingxue's friend?"
"She's trying to help mediate, I think. Look, she's holding his arm—"
"Smart move. Send the friend to soften him up first."
"This is the juiciest thing I've seen all semester. Someone tell me you're recording this!"
A girl fumbled her phone in her excitement, nearly dropping it. She caught it against her chest and immediately lifted it back up, never once looking away from the scene.
Su Qingxue stood frozen.
Every eye in the restaurant was on her. Every phone pointed in her direction. Every whisper crawling across her skin like insects.
The campus belle.
Being ignored.
In public.
Her face flushed hot—Loss of face. Anger. That's what this was. She was angry at being humiliated in front of all these people, and that's why her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
That's all this was.
"Lin Feng, I don't understand." Her voice came out smaller than she intended, and she hated herself for it. "After everything we've been through—"
Everything "we've" been through?
Lin Feng almost laughed.
I transmigrated this morning. The only thing I know about you is that in eight years, you'll hold me in place while Long Tian runs his sword through both of us—just so he can have the two women who refused him while I was alive.
That's what we've "been through."
Something twisted low in Su Qingxue's stomach—a strange, unfamiliar sensation she couldn't name. Her skin prickled with heat despite the restaurant's air conditioning.
I'm furious. That's what this is.
She straightened her spine and forced her expression back under control.
Yet, her nails dug into her palms and she barely noticed it.
----------------------
Zhang Tingting's grip on his arm tightened. She hadn't let go since she'd first taken hold, and now her fingers pressed into his sleeve with quiet desperation.
"Lin Feng."
Her voice was soft, but it carried in the sudden hush of the restaurant. There was no accusation in it—only bewilderment, raw and unguarded.
"I really believed you loved her."
Zhang Tingting was looking up at him, her face open and earnest, completely unaware of how vulnerable she appeared. This wasn't a performance. This was a girl trying to make sense of a world that had shifted under her feet without warning.
"You came to me for years," she continued, her voice wavering slightly. "Asking for advice. Asking how to make her happy. What gifts she might like. What words might reach her heart. You asked me so many questions, and I tried my best to answer them because I thought—I really thought—"
She stopped. Swallowed. Her eyes were glistening, bright with unshed tears.
"So why?" The word cracked slightly. "Why are you giving up now? After all those years? After everything you did for her?"
The restaurant had gone completely silent.
But not out of sympathy.
The melon-eating crowd had simply found better melons.
Every phone was still raised. Every eye still fixed on the scene. They were just waiting—savoring the moment, letting it marinate before the next explosion.
This was better than any drama on TV. Real tears. Real stakes. Real rich-people problems unfolding in real-time.
"Holy shit, she's actually crying," someone whispered, not bothering to hide their excitement.
"This is gold. Absolute gold."
"The betrayed best friend angle? Chef's kiss."
"Someone clip this part. The campus gossip groups are going to lose their minds."
A girl at a nearby table was already typing a play-by-play into her phone, occasionally glancing up to make sure she wasn't missing anything. Across the room, a guy nudged his friend and mouthed "Are you getting this?"
Zhang Tingting had no idea she was content now.
No idea that her genuine pain was someone else's lunchtime entertainment.
----------------------
Lin Feng looked at her.
She was still holding onto his arm, her eyes red-rimmed and pleading, waiting for an answer that would make the world make sense again.
She's the first heroine I've actually seen face-to-face today, besides Xiao Yue and Lin Weiwei.
And unlike most of the women in that trash novel, she's genuinely good. The original Lin Feng's memories confirm it. Three years of honest advice, never once trying to sabotage him or string him along for more money.
She doesn't deserve to be this confused.
Something in his expression shifted. The cold indifference he'd been wearing all morning softened, just slightly—but enough that Zhang Tingting noticed. Enough that the crowd noticed too.
"Tingting."
His voice had changed. The flat, dismissive tone he'd used on Su Qingxue was gone, replaced by something warmer. Something almost gentle.
He didn't pull his arm away from her grip.
"Your advice over the years was sincere," he said quietly, speaking to her like they were the only two people in the room. "You were honest with me when others weren't. You tried to help because you actually cared—not because you wanted something from me. I appreciated that then, and I appreciate it now."
Her eyes went wide. Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn't this.
"You're a good person, Tingting. You tried to guide me because you genuinely wanted both of us to be happy." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "That matters a lot to me. More than you know."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he wasn't finished.
"But there are some lessons you can't learn through words." His voice was gentle, but there was something final in it. "Some things you have to experience for yourself before you can understand them."
Zhang Tingting stared at him, searching his face for meaning. He could see the confusion in her eyes—the desperate need to understand why everything had changed overnight.
She wouldn't find answers there. Not yet.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. "I know this doesn't make sense to you right now. I wish I could explain it better."
He lifted his free hand and placed it over hers where it still gripped his arm. The touch was brief and reassuring—the kind of gesture an older brother might offer a worried sibling.
"But I need you to trust me. I'm making the right decision, even if it doesn't look like it from the outside."
For a long moment, Zhang Tingting didn't move. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pressed together, her mind clearly racing through possibilities she couldn't quite grasp.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
She didn't understand. That much was obvious.
But something in his voice—some quiet certainty she couldn't name—made her loosen her grip on his arm.
She stepped back—just half a step. But she didn't return to Su Qingxue's side.
----------------------
Su Qingxue watched the exchange with growing disbelief.
Her best friend—her loyal, reliable, always-on-her-side best friend—was standing closer to Lin Feng than to her. Looking up at him with something like trust. And he was speaking to her with warmth. Actual warmth.
The warmth that used to be reserved for Su Qingxue.
What is happening?
What is happening right now?
Her composure cracked. Desperation and fury clawed their way to the surface, and she couldn't tell which one was winning.
"So that's it?" Her voice came out harder than she intended, sharp enough to cut. "Four years and you're just walking away?"
She stepped forward, forcing herself into the space between him and the hooded nobody at the table.
"After everything I've let you do for me?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "All the gifts? The support? The tuition? You're just going to throw all of that away?"
The money card.
Lin Feng almost smiled.
There it is. The moment she reveals what she actually valued about this relationship.
The melon-eating crowd immediately split into factions.
"I mean... she has a point," someone murmured. "That is a lot of investment."
"Yeah, but wait—she's bringing up money? Right now?"
"That's kind of manipulative, isn't it?"
"If she actually cared about him, why would the gifts be her first argument?"
"Shh, shh, he's about to respond—"
----------------------
"You want to talk about money?"
He set down his tea cup with a soft clink against the saucer.
"Fine. Let's talk about money."
A pause. The entire restaurant leaned in.
"Fifteen million, three hundred thousand yuan."
The words dropped into the silence like a stone into still water.
For a moment, nobody breathed. Nobody moved. The number hung in the air, too large to process.
"Over four years..."
Lin Feng continued, his voice calm and clinical, as if he were reading a financial report.
"That's the cash I spent on you. Tuition. Living expenses. Gifts. Dinners. Concert tickets. Shopping trips. Travel expenses. Medical bills for your parents. Your brother's study abroad fees. Everything you ever mentioned wanting. Everything you ever hinted at needing."
He paused, letting the number sink in.
"But that's just the money I can count."
Su Qingxue's blood ran cold.
"I also gave your family the backing of the Lin Group's name."
The murmurs in the restaurant died completely. This wasn't just about cash anymore.
"Business introductions. Favorable contracts. Doors that would never have opened for the Su family without Lin Group connections standing behind them." His voice remained perfectly even.
"My elder sister opposed it. She saw through your family from the beginning and warned me repeatedly."
"But I insisted. I overruled her objections and pushed those deals through anyway—because you asked me to. Because you smiled at me and said it would mean so much to your father."
Zhang Tingting looked like she might faint.
She had known about some of the gifts. Some of the expenses. But Lin Group backing? Business deals pushed through against his elder sister's judgment?
That wasn't just money.
That was reputation. Influence. Political capital that couldn't be measured in yuan.
"The value of that?" Lin Feng picked up his tea again and took a calm sip. "I never bothered to calculate it. But I'm sure your father knows exactly what those contracts were worth."
He set the cup down.
"Let's just consider it as tuition for a different kind of education."
"I paid fifteen million yuan—and the Lin family's name—to understand exactly what kind of person you are."
The crowd completely lost its collective mind.
"FIFTEEN MILLION?!"
"Plus Lin Group backing?! Do you know how much that's worth?!"
"His sister warned him and he still did it! For HER!"
"That's not just money, that's—that's generational wealth levels of investment!"
"The Su family's entire business runs on Lin Group connections! Everyone knows that!"
"He basically BUILT her family's position and she—"
"HE KEPT RECEIPTS! HE KEPT RECEIPTS!"
"This is the biggest face-slap in recorded history!"
And through all of it—through the gasps and the shouts and the furious typing into group chats—Lin Feng still hadn't turned to look at her.
Not once.
----------------------
"You're making it sound like I—" Su Qingxue's voice pitched higher, desperate. "I never asked for any of that!"
"You didn't," Lin Feng agreed. His voice remained perfectly even, without accusation or bitterness. Just fact. "That was my choice. My mistake."
He gently disengaged from Zhang Tingting's grip and rose to his feet with unhurried grace.
Then he turned—not to Su Qingxue, but to the hooded girl still seated at the table—and extended his hand.
"But that ends today."
----------------------
Something in Su Qingxue's chest tightened at those words—at the cold finality of them. Her breath caught, and for one disorienting moment, her mind went completely blank.
Something inside her snapped.
She had tried concern. She had tried guilt. She had tried the weight of four years and fifteen million yuan.
None of it worked.
He wouldn't look at her. Wouldn't acknowledge her. Wouldn't give her even the smallest scrap of the attention he used to shower on her so freely.
And now he was offering his hand to that—that nobody in the oversized hood.
If she couldn't reach him, she would tear down the obstacle instead.
"You think she's better than me?" The words ripped out of her throat, raw and vicious. She pointed at Xiao Yue with a trembling finger. "This nobody who hides under a hood? Who sits in the back of every classroom like some creepy weirdo?"
Her voice rose with each sentence, cracking at the edges.
"At least I had the dignity to show my face! At least I'm not hiding like some pathetic stalker who's too ugly to—"
----------------------
Xiao Yue moved.
The motion was slow. Deliberate. Almost lazy.
Her hand rose toward her hood, fingers brushing against the fabric with casual indifference—as if Su Qingxue's words were beneath her acknowledgment.
The restaurant went utterly still.
Lin Feng watched too, his extended hand frozen in mid-air.
I've never seen her face either.
The realization struck him with unexpected force.
The original Lin Feng ignored her for five years. I've spent one morning with her. And I still don't know what she looks like under that hood.
Ironic. Su Qingxue accuses her of hiding.
But I don't know what either of them look like.
Su Qingxue was still talking, her voice growing shriller: "—some creepy nobody who probably can't even—"
Xiao Yue's fingers closed on the fabric.
Somewhere nearby, a water glass tipped over. Water spread across the table. Ice cubes slid toward the edge and dropped to the floor one by one.
Nobody noticed.
Xiao Yue paused.
Just one second. Yet it felt like an eternity.
Then she lifted her chin and met Su Qingxue's eyes directly for the first time.
And smirked.
It was cold. Confident. Victorious.
Like a phoenix who had been hiding in the shadows, finally ready to unfurl its wings.
Su Qingxue's words died in her throat. Her designer handbag slipped from nerveless fingers, leather hitting tile with a soft thud that echoed in the silence.
The temperature in the restaurant seemed to drop ten degrees.
Then Xiao Yue pulled—and the hood came down.
----------------------
[END CHAPTER 8]