How Did The Young Lady Go Bankrupt? - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Fried Chicken is Good

With the current flow of customers low, only that one girl remained in the bubble tea shop waiting for her order.

“Customer,” Little Zhang glanced suspiciously toward the back, “if you want someone’s contact info, you can just ask her directly. There’s no need to use me as an intermediary.”

The girl looked puzzled. “I wasn’t trying to get anyone else’s contact info?”

Little Zhang scratched her neck, feeling utterly bewildered. “Then why do you want mine?”

She didn’t look particularly willing. The girl took this as a polite refusal and sighed, preparing to leave.

“Just give it to her, it won’t hurt,” one of the colleagues who had gathered around suddenly spoke up.

“Exactly,” another added. “If it were anyone else, I’d worry about you getting scammed, but if it’s you, there’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“Instead of waiting for the next scammer to come along, you should really connect with a normal person for once.”

People are most susceptible to peer pressure. Little Zhang hadn’t intended to give it out, but after a few jabs from her colleagues, who loved the drama and didn’t care about the consequences—she pulled out her phone in a daze.

“Hey, did you actually know your girlfriends were all scammers?” After the girl left, Little Zhang still hadn’t recovered from her dazed state. She clutched her phone and muttered to herself.

“Hey, so you did know those girlfriends of yours were all scammers.”

Lu Zhiyao was also part of the crowd watching, though she hadn’t joined in the teasing from start to finish. There are jokes you can make, and jokes you can’t; she never gave advice to others regarding their romantic or financial affairs.

However, Little Zhang had a good temper. Even if this college student who just added her was a scammer, she wouldn’t take her frustration out on her teasing colleagues.

Duan Zishu watched from the side. She didn’t know the history of Little Zhang and her twenty-something scammers, so she had no opinion on the matter. She looked at Lu Zhiyao and asked, “Do I need to talk to them more?”

“Do whatever you want,” Lu Zhiyao said helplessly before returning to the back kitchen to continue working.

Duan Zishu watched her back until Lu Zhiyao was obscured by the refrigerator, then tilted her head. Shouldn’t Lu Zhiyao be happier?

She didn’t dwell on it, returning to the front desk to thank Little Zhang, who had covered for her. By now, the colleagues who had been watching the drama had returned to their respective stations, and Little Zhang still didn’t seem to have fully processed what just happened.

“If you hadn’t gone to the restroom earlier, she probably would have asked for your contact info,” Little Zhang suddenly said with a smile to Duan Zishu.

Duan Zishu looked indifferent.

“I think she should have asked for yours instead; you’re so pretty,” Little Zhang said with a hollow laugh. “But,” she added, “asking for my info probably wasn’t because of… right? Anyway, it definitely wasn’t like what they were teasing about.”

Duan Zishu was thinking about what to have for lunch. She had grown tired of the delivery apps that only offered various iterations of frozen chicken. Fried chicken, in particular, was the most hated of them all. No matter how much seasoning they piled on, it couldn’t hide the fact that the chicken had been dead for over a decade. After biting through the greasy, throat-cloying batter, you could practically taste the “vicissitudes of history” in the meat. Eating that stuff was no different than eating salted dough—did people really think that was meat? And it was so greasy.

Hmm? What did Little Zhang say again?

When she looked over, Little Zhang had already gone to the back kitchen. Duan Zishu looked away. Right, not just fried chicken; yellow-braised chicken is the same—one bite and you can taste the same grievance as the fried chicken.

But after work, Lu Zhiyao still said she wanted to buy fried chicken. After all, it was something she liked.

As soon as they opened the door, the two of them, who had spent the day indoors, were hit by a wave of cold air. It was much colder than the morning, mostly because of the wind; it was biting. Duan Zishu had brought a small suitcase when she arrived, but she hadn’t mentioned where she could go to get her old clothes. The outfit she was wearing was going out of season and wasn’t very warm. The wind was strong, and she didn’t have a hat; if she rode the electric scooter home like this, she might get a headache.

“You should wear mine first,” Lu Zhiyao said. “I have a helmet.”

Duan Zishu looked at the brown knit hat without saying a word.

“What? Is it ugly?”

Duan Zishu looked away. This hat is uglier than the work uniform.

Lu Zhiyao certainly knew it was ugly. As a slow-selling item at the night market, while ugly, it had a “warm heart.”

“Just bear with it,” she said, tossing the hat to Duan Zishu.

Duan Zishu took the hat and tried it on in front of the mirror.

“…”

“I don’t need it,” she said, handing the hat back.

Lu Zhiyao wanted to say something, but after thinking it over, she didn’t try to persuade her further. She took Duan Zishu to their regular shop to buy fried chicken.

“How about we cook some porridge when we get home, and I’ll stir-fry a head of cabbage?”

Duan Zishu wouldn’t eat the fried chicken, so this meal only consisted of one vegetable dish for her—hardly a feast. However, even if someone who didn’t cook offered a suggestion, it didn’t matter if the person holding the spatula didn’t agree.

The wind blew against her cheeks, and she felt her ears go ice-cold. She covered them with her hands, but soon, the muscles around her ears began to ache from the cold. It’s colder than I imagined.

Lu Zhiyao didn’t feel it at all; she was even humming a little tune while riding. Having meat, vegetables, and porridge—for an ordinary dinner, it was quite decent. When Lu Zhiyao ate by herself, she would just throw something together; she rarely had such formal meals. She was in a good mood.

However, she also knew that Duan Zishu would gently frown at the smell of the fried chicken. Probably because the last time she tried to eat it, she ended up in the hospital; the taste in her mouth when she threw it up must have been horrific enough to leave a trauma that would prevent her from ever eating it again.

“Want to try some?”

Even though Lu Zhiyao knew perfectly well, she pushed the fried chicken toward Duan Zishu as she sat down.

“I’m not eating it,” Duan Zishu refused firmly.

“It’s delicious.”

“I don’t think it’s delicious.”

“If you only eat cabbage, your mouth will be so lonely.”

Cabbage and Chinese cabbage were things Duan Zishu didn’t really like, either. Though she wouldn’t refuse them like green peppers or radishes, she certainly didn’t care for them. There was truly nothing on the table that Duan Zishu liked, so she seemed lackluster.

“The reason you felt sick after eating fried chicken before was because you’d been tossed around for days returning to the country without eating properly; your system couldn’t handle the oil.” Lu Zhiyao picked up a piece of fried chicken and put it in her bowl. “You’re healthy now; you don’t have to worry about going to the hospital again,” she continued. “Besides, you’ve eaten similar things before, haven’t you? It wasn’t that repulsive, was it?”

“The meat in those McDonald’s burgers…isn’t it essentially fried chicken? Don’t you like those?”

Lu Zhiyao’s attitude wasn’t particularly pushy. She didn’t act like an adult forcing a child to eat vegetables by dumping the chicken into Duan Zishu’s bowl; she just spoke nonchalantly. “Because I really like it, I want you to like it, too.”

Duan Zishu looked at the plate on the table. Her feelings about fried chicken wouldn’t change because of these few sentences, but the urge to refuse outright had diminished significantly.

Fortunately, Lu Zhiyao changed the subject. “The temperature is going to drop soon. The clothes you brought aren’t warm enough; we need to buy you some new ones.”

“Mhm.”

“Is your ear hurting a lot?” Lu Zhiyao looked at her. “The wind must have been uncomfortable.”

“My head hurts a bit, too,” Duan Zishu said, immediately acting pathetic.

Lu Zhiyao didn’t offer comfort. “That’s why I said you should have worn that hat. You have to listen to me.”

This wasn’t the response Duan Zishu wanted, but she couldn’t refute it. She had chosen style over warmth, and now she was reaping what she sowed.

“Don’t… be like that.” Duan Zishu felt a bit deflated. She spoke subconsciously, then felt her tone was a bit too forceful, so she added a soft particle at the end. “Don’t talk to me like that; I’m already feeling miserable enough.”

What she actually wanted to say was, You weren’t like this before. If it were the old Lu Zhiyao, she would have immediately asked how much her head hurt, instead of making it sound like she deserved it. It was because she didn’t wear the hat that her head hurt, but the hat was too ugly, and the wind was too strong—how could it all be her fault?

However, although Lu Zhiyao wasn’t like before, the old Lu Zhiyao and the current Lu Zhiyao were still the same Lu Zhiyao. Duan Zishu believed that the same person wouldn’t be too fragmented. Just like the previous few times, she was already this miserable—she should receive some comfort.

Lu Zhiyao didn’t sigh or show a helpless expression. She propped her elbows on the table, rested her cheek against her arm, and just watched her.

“Haha,” she laughed. “It’s not that big a deal. Don’t make me sound like the villain.”

Once the laughter came, the atmosphere wasn’t as awkward as it had been a moment ago. “I’ve lived in this city for many years and am more familiar with the environment than you are, so it’s better to listen to my advice.”

After saying this in such a flat tone, Lu Zhiyao naturally placed a piece of fried chicken into Duan Zishu’s bowl. “This is the best fried chicken shop I’ve ever had. Try it.”

Duan Zishu was stunned. Lu Zhiyao’s movement was too natural—so natural that it was as if Duan Zishu had never said she didn’t eat fried chicken. She was as calm as if discussing anything else, recommending her favorite food to someone by her side. In a flow like this, refusing felt very abrupt.

Duan Zishu thought for a moment, picked up the fried chicken, and took a bite. The greasy texture combined with the taste of a chicken that had been dead for ages was even worse than the first attempt because this flavor reminded her of the churning nausea in her stomach. Even though Duan Zishu was usually calm, she couldn’t help but show an expression of disgust.

That’s right, Lu Zhiyao thought.

Chatting more with colleagues, what kind of “obedience” is that? Does saying one extra sentence or one less sentence have any impact on Duan Zishu’s life? No. But the things you hate to eat are different.

Lu Zhiyao also had things she hated to eat—like things that offended her taste buds on a genetic level; she wanted to gag after one bite and felt nauseous just smelling the scent.

“Don’t like it?” she asked. “If you don’t like it, just spit it out.”

Duan Zishu’s upbringing didn’t allow her to behave like that. Even if she ate something she hated, she had to maintain a level of decency. Her mother had been strict about such rules; she hated those rules, but she had long since become accustomed to them unconsciously, just like modern people believe they should go out wearing clothes and wouldn’t want to be fully exposed even in a place with no one around.

“It’s okay,” she said, swallowing the food in her mouth and pulling out a tissue to wipe her lips. When she looked up at Lu Zhiyao again, she found the other person wearing that slightly helpless expression once more.

“Sigh.” Lu Zhiyao sighed, walked around the table, and sat down beside Duan Zishu. “Does your head still hurt?” she asked.