Spring had barely stepped out the door, and the evening breeze still carried a lingering chill. Doug Feng shivered as the wind cut through his paper-thin knockoff T-shirt from a street stall, making his teeth chatter every time he opened his mouth.
"Building C, Room 302," Ms. Qing Fang said, glancing at him with a frown. "It's too late for you to go all the way back by yourself. I'll call your parents and let them know you stayed behind for extra tutoring and it got too late to head home. You can crash at my place tonight."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded to herself. With the sky dark and the wind howling, letting Doug trek alone across half of Zhicheng didn't sit right with her.
The night air had also sobered her up a bit—her flushed cheeks fading, and that groggy warmth in her body slowly dissipating.
"Uh…" Doug's gaze drifted to her long legs wrapped in black stockings, the curve of her silhouette peeking from beneath a half-buttoned coat. She looked like a woman teetering on the edge of youthful charm and mature allure. He swallowed hard. Whatever excuses he had prepared to politely decline… evaporated.
Clack, clack, clack.
He followed behind, the rhythmic sound of Ms. Fang's heels echoing up the stairwell. Each click felt like a countdown in his chest. Doug glanced at the floating interface of his affection system.
Wait… did her affection score just jump by ten points?
Is this… is our relationship really leveling up?
They reached Room 302.
"Come in," she said casually, unlocking the door.
Doug stepped into a world he'd never imagined—the home of his high school homeroom teacher.
"Sit wherever you like," she said, slipping off her coat. "It's a mess. I live alone, so I don't really bother tidying up. You haven't had dinner, have you? I can make you some instant noodles."
"No, no, that's okay—" Doug tried to refuse, but his stomach betrayed him with a loud grumble.
He hadn't eaten since lunch, and even though his body had been enhanced by the system, energy still had to come from somewhere.
"Alright, stop being polite." Ms. Fang smiled warmly. "Let your teacher show off her culinary skills."
She tossed on a pink loungewear jacket and headed into the kitchen, flipping on the induction stove and setting a pot of water to boil.
Doug slouched into the couch, watching her from behind. His thoughts began to wander, and then—
"Food and sex, the primal instincts," he mumbled, quoting some ancient Chinese philosopher without really thinking.
He looked around. The place wasn't large—just a single bedroom, a small living room, a kitchenette, and a tiny bathroom. A place like this probably cost only a hundred bucks a month in a city like Zhicheng.
Clearly, Ms. Fang wasn't from around here. As a newcomer to the school, she hadn't yet qualified for teacher housing and had to rent a modest apartment on her own.
Doug noticed the trash bin filled with empty instant noodle wrappers and frozen food packaging.
"She really has it tough," he muttered. No proper meals, living alone, working late… She probably didn't even have time to sit down for a real dinner.
"Alright! Come taste the masterpiece of Chef Fang!" she called cheerily.
She placed a steaming bowl of instant noodles on the table—topped with two perfectly poached eggs. Doug's heart clenched a little.
"Teacher… do you always eat instant noodles like this?" he asked.
"More or less," she said, stirring her own bowl. "You guys are about to take the college entrance exam, right? That means weekly quizzes and monthly mock tests. The English department handles hundreds of papers at a time. Honestly, by the time I get home, I just don't have the energy to cook anything fancy."
She tried to sound nonchalant, but Doug could hear the tiredness underneath.
He slurped a mouthful of noodles and sighed. "Being a teacher isn't as easy as it looks."
"Little glutton," Ms. Fang teased. "You're enjoying this instant noodle like it's gourmet ramen."
She reached out and ruffled his hair, smiling. "Doug, really, thank you for saving me tonight. I owe you one. Sorry all I have to offer is a bowl of noodles. I'll treat you to a proper meal soon, okay?"
"Teacher, your noodles are the best I've ever had."
"Haha, if you say so. But now that I'm watching you eat… I'm hungry too."
Doug quickly grabbed a bit of egg white with his chopsticks and offered it to her. He froze halfway—wait, am I really doing this?
To his surprise, she leaned in and took the bite without hesitation, her lips brushing the chopsticks.
"Mmm. Not bad. I really am a noodle master," she joked.
Ding!
Doug blinked at the interface—Ms. Fang's affection score just ticked up again. 11 points.
So even small, intimate gestures increase favorability. Not just accidental gropes or awkward encounters.
He felt like he was beginning to understand how the affection system worked.
"Whew, that was amazing. Thank you, Teacher. That's seriously the best instant noodles I've ever had."
They had eaten from the same bowl, laughing and chatting like old friends. Ms. Fang smiled. "Honestly? This was the best bowl of noodles I've had too."
Doug grinned cheekily. "Well of course it tasted good. You've had, like, half my saliva by now."
Ms. Fang laughed but didn't reply.
After cleaning up, she glanced at the clock—it was nearly 11 p.m.
"Doug, you should wash up and get to bed. We've got class tomorrow morning," she said, pointing to the bathroom. "There's a fresh toothbrush and towel in the drawer. Go ahead and take the bedroom—I'll crash on the couch."
"What? No way! You should take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa. I'm a man, you know!"
He puffed up his chest like a righteous knight, but Ms. Fang just reached out and tapped him on the head.
"Alright, alright, little man. You win. Sleep on the sofa if you insist," she chuckled. "But hurry up and wash. I still need to take a shower."