Class 8.
Xue Yuantong was asleep, cut off from the world.
Jiang Yanan brought her dinner, and she woke up.
Wave after wave of shouts came from the balcony outside—things like, "Jiang Ning won," "Jiang Ning lost again," and "If Jiang Ning tries a little harder, he can become Yun Tingting's boyfriend."
Xue Yuantong was furious.
But she had not eaten yet, so she decided to bury her head and dig into her meal first.
Huang Xingyue, the international student in the class, passed by and saw how deliciously she was eating. Unable to resist, she asked, "Hello, what are you eating? It smells so good!"
Xue Yuantong raised her little face, her eyes wary. "Spicy hot pot."
Huang Xingyue felt as though she might hide her food the very next second. It was the first time she had met someone so protective of her food.
A layer of red chili oil and sesame seeds floated atop the bowl. Without even tasting it, one could tell how delicious it was.
"May I ask where you bought your dinner?"
Xue Yuantong poked at her food with her chopsticks. Thinking of the shouts she had heard earlier, she said, "You should ask my servant, Jiang Ning."
"Servant?" Huang Xingyue frowned. It was such a distant term. Even in Africa, only one country in West Africa still had a semi-slave system.
China, however, did not have such a system.
Her thirst for knowledge temporarily overwhelmed her appetite. Huang Xingyue asked, "Why exactly does he serve as your servant?"
Xue Yuantong said proudly, "He was born to be my servant."
Huang Xingyue nodded. Born a slave.
"As your servant, what exactly does he do for you every day?"
"So much!" Xue Yuantong counted off on her fingers. "He brings me food, takes me to