Sunday was a day off, and early in the morning there weren’t many people around.
After a quick wash, Jiang Luokui went to buy breakfast. The cafeteria’s head chef was testing a new item today—not for sale yet—steamed buns made from mantou flour. Aunt Chen casually picked a few for her.
“Take these back and have your roommates help me test the new product. Tell me how it tastes.”
Jiang Luokui waved her hand while chewing on a bun. “That’s enough, really! One each is fine—Aunt Chen, don’t take so many.”
But Aunt Chen was quick-handed. Though she said it wasn’t much, she packed eight buns into a bag and handed it over with a smile. “Don’t be shy with me. Take them.”
“Thank you, Aunt Chen,” Jiang Luokui said with an embarrassed smile.
There was something about Aunt Chen that reminded her of her own mother—warm and impossible to refuse.
When she got back to the dorm, it was only 8 a.m., but her roommates were already up, driven by their internal clocks. Seeing her return, the three of them dragged their chairs over to her desk, waiting eagerly for breakfast.
“Zihan, your three buns. You two, ten buns. And here’s the soy milk you wanted. The cafeteria lady also gave us some new buns—try them and see how they taste.”
Jiang Luokui glanced at the soy milk in her hand and sighed inwardly.
This wasn’t real soy milk—it was made from mutated green beans, nowhere near as good as traditional soybean milk, and not even fragrant.
Lan Ya took her portion with a smile. “Thanks for the hard work, Luokui.”
Bai Xiang also thanked her softly, then gathered her courage and said, “Um… can we all have lunch together today? My treat.”
She was introverted and didn’t talk much with classmates, relying on Lan Ya at school and her roommates in the dorm.
Remembering her mother’s advice to socialize more, and with everyone free today, she wanted to treat them.
“Sure, I’m free!” Lin Zihan agreed immediately.
With her scallion oil already listed for sale, Jiang Luokui was free today as well. She smiled and nodded. “Then we won’t hold back.”
Not being rejected, Bai Xiang quietly sighed in relief and smiled shyly. “Please don’t be polite! I’m slow to warm up—thank you all for taking care of me.”
Bai Xiang and Lan Ya weren’t locals of Jiangnan Base—one was from Central Plains Base, the other from Southwest Base. Both came from well-off families.
But Jiang Luokui didn’t expect Bai Xiang to treat them on the second floor of the cafeteria.
Food on the first floor was already expensive—the second floor was even more so.
Bai Xiang studied the menu seriously and, in one go, ordered six meat dishes, along with four bowls of rice and drinks.
The total displayed: over 1,000 credits.
Jiang Luokui and Lin Zihan both inhaled sharply.
That expensive?!
Spending this much on one meal… wasn’t that a bit too much?
Sensing their discomfort, Lan Ya smiled. “Don’t feel bad—she eats like this all the time.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Bai Xiang happily paid.
“Let’s sit over there,” she said, pointing to seats overlooking the supermarket downstairs. “It’ll take a while for the food.”
Jiang Luokui sat down silently.
One day… I’ll have ordering freedom too.
No sooner had they sat than Lin Zihan asked curiously, “Why are you combat majors so busy? It’s only been a few days since school started, and it’s rare to see you before 9 a.m.”
Lan Ya and Bai Xiang exchanged a glance and sighed.
“We don’t know either. The school keeps squeezing in extra training sessions.”
Bai Xiang rested her chin in her hands, looking drained. “I heard our class is the strictest in recent years. Tons of brutal training.”
“Same here…” Lin Zihan sighed. “Tomato seeds are already hard enough, and now half of us agriculture students got rice seeds too.”
She was worried about her tomato seeds—not even sprouting yet.
The forums were full of agriculture seniors “lighting candles” in sympathy.
The topic of assignments quickly reignited discussions about Jiang Luokui.
Even though the betting pool had closed, everyone still hoped they’d guessed right.
After learning she’d received rice seeds, those who bet she wouldn’t last one or two months in the agriculture department were secretly gloating.
Lin Zihan glanced at Jiang Luokui. “Hey, Luokui—I think I saw you soaking rice seeds a couple days ago. How’s it going?”
Jiang Luokui pulled her gaze away from the supermarket entrance and replied absentmindedly, “Soaking’s done. Now I’m germinating them.”
“That’s pretty smooth—you’re lucky,” Lin Zihan said enviously. Even top students were only at that stage.
It was already 12:30 p.m.—peak lunchtime. Students who slept in were coming out to eat.
But Jiang Luokui’s communicator still had no notifications.
She smiled faintly, her gaze returning to the supermarket below.
“Yeah… pretty lucky.”
They should’ve arrived by now, right?
Self-Service Supermarket
The usually quiet consignment section was crowded today—not because of a new product, but because of its label.
It read:
“One sniff clears your mind, one bite brings tears of joy! Produced by the Agriculture Department—worth a try!”
Under the nearby anti-fraud warning posters, it looked… extremely suspicious.
“Does that even comply with advertising laws?”
Someone scoffed. “False advertising. Who knows what oil this is—maybe it’s radioactive—and they’re hyping it like that?”
“And 500 credits for such a small bottle? Ridiculous!”
“Is this really from the agriculture department? Which student is this desperate? This looks like a scam!”
Nearby agriculture students, about to leave quietly, stiffened at those words.
Last year’s toxic fertilizer scam had left a deep impression. The fraudster had also used the agriculture department’s name here.
The culprit still hadn’t been caught—and the blame had stuck.
Before, they endured it.
Now again?
They snapped.
“What agriculture department? Looks like something your food science people made! We only sell produce—not this so-called scallion oil!”
“Watch your mouth! We don’t do scams either!”
Just as the argument escalated, Chen Pan squeezed to the front, yawning.
“Enough, enough! Hey—don’t you think this smells like that fragrance that drifted around for hours last night?”
Chen Pan was well-connected, and people recognized him. The argument actually paused.
Some onlookers sniffed.
“What smell? People from Dorm Five were going crazy about it—what was it?”
Chen Pan shrugged internally—how would I know? I don’t live there.
He clicked his tongue loudly. “Want to know? Buy a bottle. It’s just 500—who here can’t afford that?”
“Move aside, I’ll try it first.”
He grabbed a bottle and walked to the checkout, looking carefree—but internally bleeding.
I regret this so much.
If not for Jiang Luokui’s threat to report him over the forum incident, he’d never have agreed to be her “plant.”
Five hundred credits… she better pay me back!
Bottle in hand, Chen Pan went to the serving window, meeting Aunt Chen’s gaze.
She recognized him—he usually ordered one meat and one vegetable dish.
“Student, today—”
He interrupted sincerely, “Auntie, six buns please.”
Aunt Chen blinked.
What’s wrong? Did this kid fall on hard times?
A friend asked, “Why only buns? No meat?”
Meat? With these 500 credits gone? Forget it!
Chen Pan smiled. “How else can I judge if this oil’s worth 500? You need plain buns to taste it properly.”
He sat down, opened the bottle—
And instantly, a powerful aroma burst out.
“Holy—what is this? Why does it smell so good?!”
Students from Dorm Five exclaimed, “That’s it! The smell from last night!”
It was so intense it overpowered even the cafeteria’s stir-fried meat aroma.
Chen Pan sniffed deeply.
His foggy, sleep-deprived mind suddenly cleared.
He stared at the label again in disbelief.
Wait… the slogan is real?
The fragrance spread, reaching those who had dismissed it earlier.
They froze.
So fragrant…
“Is that really the scallion oil?”
They inhaled deeply again—
…And their minds cleared instantly.