Chapter 17 — Wronged, Oh So Wronged

"Oh, is that so?" Shen Yushu, of course, believed not a word of it, and she fixed Wei Zhao with a suspicious look.

"Of course it's true..." Wei Zhao's face was the very picture of wounded innocence — and, in fairness, what he said was more or less the truth.

"Hmph." Shen Yushu gave a cold snort. She had no wish to keep wrangling with Wei Zhao over the matter, and reached for the set-top box remote on the coffee table, meaning to change the channel — but then her gaze caught on a crumpled wad of tissue lying there. It had not been balled up tightly, and through its folds something thick and sticky could faintly be seen glistening within...

"What is that?" Shen Yushu's face went green at once, and her very voice began to tremble. "Well, well, Wei Zhao! So you come to Yaoyao's home, watch dirty videos on the television, and do something this filthy on top of it..."

"What did I do?" Wei Zhao started, and, at a complete loss, followed Shen Yushu's gaze toward the coffee table. The moment he saw the wad of tissue he himself had used, the truth burst upon him. Damn it all — don't tell me his luck was really this rotten?

Wei Zhao knew perfectly well that Shen Yushu had jumped to the wrong conclusion: a wad of tissue, something sticky smeared inside it, set beside the dirty video he had been watching not long before — anyone would be bound to suspect the worst... How wronged he felt! What kind of nonsense was this?

"Yushu... don't get any funny ideas. I've only just come north, and the climate here doesn't agree with me — I've caught a cold. That's just the tissue I blew my nose in. If you don't believe me, look for yourself..." With that, Wei Zhao picked the wad of tissue up off the coffee table and began unfolding it, meaning to let Shen Yushu have a good, close look.

"Take it away!" Shen Yushu shrieked. "I am not looking at anything that disgusting. Wei Zhao, you utter scoundrel!"

Wei Zhao felt awkward, but there was nothing to be done; Shen Yushu would not believe him, and he could hardly force her to look, could he? Sulkily he drew the tissue back. "Believe it or not, I really wasn't..."

Shen Yushu's eyes rolled, and all at once a scheme took shape. "I've changed my mind. I don't want instant noodles after all. Go and cook me a proper meal."

"Eh?" Wei Zhao blinked, nonplussed. "Why?"

"Heh heh — because I've got something on you now. If you don't go, I'll tell Uncle Chu that you... you were doing that filthy thing in front of the television at home, and that you scared me and Yaoyao half to death." And Shen Yushu grinned a sly, wicked little grin.

A few black lines of exasperation instantly sprang up across Wei Zhao's forehead. Wronged! So wronged! But where on earth was he to plead his case? If the old man ever heard of this, his life would be ruined for good.

Wei Zhao drew a couple of deep breaths and said through gritted teeth, "All right — you're ruthless."

"Ruthless? Not half so ruthless as you. You're the one who could do something so outrageous." Shen Yushu did not yield an inch.

Wei Zhao was rather lost for words. Conceded defeat though he had, he could not resist a little revenge of his own. "And yet — would you dare eat a meal cooked by these hands?"

"Oh, no problem at all. Books say that stuff is pure protein — eating it is good for the complexion, you know." Shen Yushu replied with perfect nonchalance.

This time Wei Zhao was well and truly speechless. This little devil, Shen Yushu, was far harder to deal with than Gu Mengyao; at worst Gu Mengyao simply disliked him, whereas this girl was forever inventing new ways to torment him.

And yet what truly astonished Wei Zhao was how Shen Yushu seemed suddenly a different person from moments before. Only just now she had cried "disgusting" and ordered him to take the tissue away; now she was holding forth on its beauty benefits...

"What would you like to eat?" Wei Zhao asked.

"Anything will do. I've no idea what's in the kitchen — go and see for yourself." Shen Yushu shifted into a more comfortable position, settling onto the sofa with a bewitching languor; half of one smooth, pale calf slipped from beneath her pajamas and swayed to and fro, and that swaying set certain parts of Wei Zhao — only just brought back under control — stirring once more.

"Fine..." Afraid that Shen Yushu might notice his predicament, Wei Zhao bent at the waist and started toward the kitchen — but before he had taken two steps, she called him back.

"Hey, Wrigley, what's the matter with you? What are you bending over like a shrimp for?" Shen Yushu found it odd, seeing him hunched like that — but the moment her eyes dropped to his lower half, she understood at once what he was doing. Flushing scarlet, she hastily turned her face aside and sniffed, "Truly vile."

Wei Zhao could not be bothered to explain. Since he had been found out anyway, he simply straightened up and strode off toward the kitchen.

Watching Wei Zhao's retreating back, Shen Yushu let a sly smile curl at the corner of her mouth. Hmph — did he take her for a fool? As if she would not know snot when she saw it! They had covered that much in health class at school: the stuff was milky white, and it carried a peculiar smell, one you could catch from yards away. True, Shen Yushu had never actually smelled the real thing — but she had been sitting on that sofa for ages without noticing the tissue lying right beside her, which clearly meant it had no such smell at all.

Moreover, the most crucial point was what she had read online: after a man did that sort of thing, his member would turn soft. Yet judging from the look of Wei Zhao just now, he did not seem in the least like a man who had just relieved himself.

But Shen Yushu, of course, said none of this to Wei Zhao. She would let the mistake stand and turn it into a handle to hold over him—heh heh, let him try to disobey her again next time.

What a delight to have a free errand boy! Drinking in the savory smells drifting out from the kitchen, Shen Yushu felt ever more certain that her earlier decision had been nothing short of inspired.

When Wei Zhao entered the kitchen, he was taken aback. The facilities here were rather impressive—far better than the big earthen stove back in his village, everything so modern. He noticed a cute little apron hanging on the wall, covered with a SpongeBob pattern; it looked nearly new, as if it had hardly ever been worn. He figured that these two girls were the sort who had clothes fetched for them and food set before them, and could never have cooked for themselves.

Wei Zhao tied on the apron and began searching the kitchen for something to cook. In the fresh-keeping cabinet were tomatoes, spinach, celery, and some eggs, though each kind came in only a small quantity. These had probably been stocked there by Uncle Qing for Gu Mengyao as a precaution; whether she ever used them for cooking was anyone's guess. Still, as the man Gu Pengzhan trusted most, Uncle Qing would naturally think everything through.

He then checked the staple foods—there was flour and rice. He decided to knead some of the flour and pull it into noodles, then make a simple plain noodle soup. He was hungry anyway.

Cooking came to Wei Zhao as easily as traveling a familiar road. At home he had looked after the old man all day long, and had been doing so ever since he was a child; here, especially, with every kitchen tool at hand, he quickly worked the dough to the right consistency and began pulling noodles with practiced skill. Before long, a bundle of thin, springy noodles lay on the chopping board.