Qin Buzhu gave a nod, turned, and walked off with his long strides. Shi Feiye, still wearing her apron, kept busy in the kitchen. They had come back later than usual, and if she didn’t hurry up now, dinner would be late again. She also wanted to get some writing done tonight.

Once the dishes were ready and on the table, Shi Feiye went to knock on Qin Buzhu’s door. He let go of his mouse, closed all the pages on his screen, and only then got up for dinner. The two of them usually didn’t talk much. Shi Feiye had no real urge to force a conversation either. So far, they’d just gone about their own business, only saying a word or two if something overlapped. Unless there was some accident, their meals were always eaten in silence.

But today was different. Qin Buzhu had just sat down when he told her, “Someone’s coming tomorrow to install the dishwasher.”

Shi Feiye froze with her chopsticks halfway to her bowl. “Dishwasher? You bought one? Didn’t I say I’d take my time picking it out myself?”

“You said you can’t decide things easily, so I chose one for you. All you need to do is use it.” Now that he understood Shi Feiye’s situation, his guard against her had eased a lot. He went ahead and got the things they needed, since it wasn’t right to make a girl do all the work. After all, she didn’t owe him anything, and she’d been treating him well.

Shi Feiye didn’t know how to respond. Maybe Qin Buzhu just didn’t want to owe her a favor. Or maybe something like this didn’t count as anything at all in his eyes. “Oh. Then I’ll try not to go out tomorrow.”

That topic ended, and they were just about to go back to eating when Shi Feiye’s phone rang.

Since she’d come into this world, her phone hardly ever rang. The cannon fodder’s immediate family had already passed away, and the few distant relatives thousands of miles apart had cut contact once they heard Qin Buzhu was bankrupt. Afraid she might ask them for money, they’d even blocked her.

As for her so-called friends, most were just drinking buddies and fake “sisters.” No point mentioning them. At the start, a few had tried to poke at her on WeChat, dropping subtle hints to see her downfall. But when they realized Shi Feiye wasn’t even showing up in group chats anymore, they stopped bothering.

These days, the only ones who might call were couriers or service hotlines. Well, sometimes Qin Buzhu’s number would pop up unexpectedly, but at this hour? Almost no chance.

Shi Feiye picked up her phone and saw it was an unfamiliar number. “Hello?”

“Ah, A-Ye, long time no see! I just came back from a trip abroad. How about we get together tomorrow?” A sharp, lively voice came from the other end.

Shi Feiye immediately remembered who it was, the flashiest of those fake sisters, more or less their ringleader, the Wen family’s second daughter, Wen Xiangsheng. This woman was always smooth in front of others, knew how to put on a face, and had always acted like she was close to the cannon fodder. But in truth, nothing she ever dragged her along to was reliable, and behind her back, she mocked her constantly.

“No need to meet up. We were never the same kind of people anyway. Miss Wen just wants to see me make a fool of myself, but too bad—I’m clear-headed now, and I’m not giving you that chance. If you’ve got that much free time, better spend it worrying about your own marriage prospects.”

The second Miss Wen was known for being playful and flighty. Everyone knew her blind dates never worked out, and no one wanted her. Since she’d come to laugh at her, Shi Feiye wasn’t going to be polite—she struck right where it hurt.