Is Robin a Good Girl?

Jingxing stood at the entrance to the tent, watching Glenn's retreating figure disappear before going back inside. He crouched down and opened his suitcase.

Glenn was right. If the details got out, it would put the company at a disadvantage. Considering that, even if Jingxing contacted his teacher now and tried to call a spaceship to take him away, they might stop him.

Besides, Yaoguang had said an opportunity awaited him here. Could the so-called opportunity be getting taken in and faced with a situation he was powerless to change? Jingxing didn't believe that for a second.

The key to breaking out of this predicament should lie with the person at the heart of the camp: the Halovian superstar.

"Using strength to help the weak, sacrificing oneself to protect others—if that's the creed Robin lives by, she shouldn't agree with the company's decision to stand by and do nothing." Jingxing finished unpacking and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts wandered. "So these company soldiers say they're protecting her, but they're actually keeping an eye on her too, making sure she doesn't cause too much of a stir here, right?"

The company had probably even engineered the camp's supply shortage to make Robin back down. Otherwise, how could a galaxy-famous singer come to help with disaster relief and only manage to maintain a camp of fewer than a thousand people?

The more Jingxing thought about it, the more sense it made. But it all rested on the premise that Robin was a good girl. If that premise didn't hold, making a reckless move would be no different from walking into a trap.

Even with his status as the orphan of a company employee, Jingxing didn't want to take that risk.

For now, I'll find a chance to get close to Robin and watch her behavior carefully. He set himself the task, then pulled out his phone and let his teacher know he was safe.

The next day, barely after dawn, the crisp clanging of iron pots, the scrape of wooden buckets being dragged across the ground, footsteps rising and falling, and the muffled cries of children all filtered through the canvas, successfully taking the place of an alarm clock and waking him up.

Jingxing sat up, listening to the wooden bed creak beneath him, and breathed out a puff of white vapor.

There wasn't much insulation in the tent, and his sleeping bag was already damp when he woke. Jingxing climbed out, pulled on his coat, and took his paints, canvas, and brushes from his suitcase, ready to find a quiet place outside for his daily still-life practice.

A thin mist still hung over the valley outside, leaving the tents in the distance as blurry outlines. Dew dripped steadily from the edges of the tarps, splattering into dark circles on the muddy ground.

The air was cold, and it carried the earthy smell of soil into his lungs.

Jingxing looked around. The camp was already fully in operation.

Several large pots were on the fire at once, and the people in charge of logistics hurried back and forth, bringing firewood and buckets of water to them. A line had already formed at the medical area as well, where quite a few people were crowded together and two medical workers were examining them one by one.

But the busiest place was still the supply distribution area, where two long lines had formed.

The line on the left was for breakfast; the one on the right was for water purification tablets and the day's rations.

With his bag on his back, Jingxing walked a few steps closer and stood at the edge, silently observing the scene.

To his surprise, although the lines were long, order was well maintained, and he didn't see any "troublemakers" stirring things up.

"Robin is amazing..." he murmured. There was no way Glenn and his gang of thugs had kept things this orderly.

Just then, a commotion broke out in the middle of one line. A woman holding a child was jostled by the crowd behind her and missed her footing, pitching sideways.

Jingxing reacted before he could think. He rushed forward, steadying the woman with one hand and holding back the people still pressing forward with the other.

"Slow down."

Reminded by his words, the people behind them stopped in their tracks on instinct.

The woman held her child close and, once she was steady, murmured her thanks.

Jingxing nodded without saying much and continued forward to the front of the line. A middle-aged man was serving food there, dark circles under his eyes. Clearly, he had been called up to work after only a few hours of sleep.

He was ladling out porridge while calling to the people farther back to keep order, his forehead covered in sweat.

Jingxing spoke up. "Need a hand?"

The middle-aged man looked up and sized him up. He had heard the company big shots talking last night about the unlucky fellow who had arrived the day before.

Because Jingxing came from the Klimt Constitutional Republic, a powerful state that spanned several star systems, the company big shots had no choice but to take him in and provide him with enough resources, even though they were wary of him.

It must be nice to have a powerful country behind you... he thought, shaking his head as he declined. "How could we let you do this kind of work?"

But Jingxing pointed to the other side, where Robin was doing the same work. "Isn't Miss Robin busy too?"

"Well..." The middle-aged man hesitated. "Can you ladle porridge?"

"...Of course I can." Jingxing's mouth twitched. It wasn't as though he was helpless at everyday tasks.

"Camp rules: one ladle per person. Sorry for the trouble. I'll go help in the kitchen." The middle-aged man handed him the iron ladle, then bowed.

Jingxing took the ladle. Its handle had been worn shiny from long use. The mixed-grain porridge in the pot was thin, with bits of potato and wild greens mixed in, and bubbles rose steadily to the surface.

Let's get started, he said to himself.

Take a bowl, ladle in the porridge, level it off, hand it back. He didn't waste a word through it all, and the line in front of him slowly began to move.

He kept up the repetitive motions for a long time. It was genuinely boring, but with Robin constantly visible out of the corner of his eye, Jingxing didn't find it quite so tedious.

As his hands grew more practiced, he could spare more attention to observe Robin.

Today, the superstar was wearing a light gray dress with an off-white cardigan over it. Her sleeves were still rolled up to her elbows, revealing her fair arms.

A little girl of seven or eight stood in front of her, holding a water bottle and talking nonstop.

Robin didn't hurry her away. Instead, she bent down slightly and leaned closer to listen.

Only when the girl had finished did she smile and ruffle her hair. The girl ran off in delight, as though eager to show off to her friends that she had just gotten to talk to the pretty older girl.

Robin watched her go, the corners of her lips still curved upward.

Jingxing looked away and lowered his wrist, scooping up another ladleful of porridge.

Something was wrong with that smile.

The curve of her lips was perfect, her eyes and brows were pleasantly curved, and even the angles at which her facial muscles moved were just right, as though she had rehearsed it thousands of times.

But what lay hidden in her eyes wasn't amusement. It looked more like dissatisfaction with the current situation, or even... anger.

Jingxing poured the porridge into the bowl in front of him. Steam rose up, warming his eyelids.

I need to find a chance to sound her out in private.

Jingxing lowered his eyes and stared at the bubbles churning in the pot. The veins on his wrist shifted slightly as he gripped the ladle.