Volume 1 / Chapter 53: A Quiet Dinner

The students, already famished, weren’t allowed to eat until they’d sung several military songs. And not just sung—they had to sing loudly.

Many were silently grumbling, but if singing was the toll for dinner, they could only grit their teeth and comply.

But even after the singing, no one could eat until all the classes had entered the canteen.

Each person sat down in their assigned seat.

Today's canteen was nothing like yesterday's—no warm dining room atmosphere. This was the only long, single-story cement building in all of Mount Mo.

It barely had any windows. Now this felt like a real “canteen.”

The tables and benches were all long and narrow. People sat on both sides, meaning everyone faced someone else while eating.

A uniform tray sat in front of each student, divided neatly into compartments: two vegetable dishes, one meat dish, a bowl of soup, and a yellow-green mandarin orange.

“No talking during meals! Anyone who speaks won’t eat—will be standing in the back! Understood?” Commander Tian stood sternly at the front of the room, barking orders.

“Understood…” the students replied half-heartedly, eyes rolling with contempt.

“I can’t hear you! I said—understood?!”

“UNDERSTOOD!” The students had no choice but to shout with reluctant obedience—for the sake of dinner.

“If the food or soup isn’t enough, you may come to the front for refills. Now, begin eating.”

Chopsticks clattered as the room instantly filled with the sound of silent eating.

Such synchronized, head-down, speechless dining was a rare sight in any normal school cafeteria.

But people are funny creatures. The more you tell them not to talk, the more they want to.

Even if they didn’t speak, they'd steal glances at each other, barely suppressing their laughter.

From behind, there came muffled chuckles from a group of boys.

Mò Xuěyáo’s seat happened to face that very group.

Across from her, Huā Yínyín wore an expression of extreme suffering—obviously desperate to ask what was going on, but the no-talking rule forced her to stew in silence.

Nothing dramatic had actually happened.

It was just Zhōu Yǒng scarfing down his food at lightning speed.

One-third of the rice, gone in one bite. Another bite, one-third of the vegetables—disappeared.

In just thirty seconds, he’d polished off his entire tray. Even the soup was gone.

“What’s with you boys at this table?” A female instructor walked over, frowning deeply. “Are you all farting with your mouths?”

The phrasing couldn’t have been more spot-on.

After all, when you’re holding in laughter, you sometimes leak sound—and wasn’t that basically the same as mouth-farting?

The boys ducked their heads, desperately trying to hold it in. One pinched his own thigh hard. Another stuffed rice into his mouth like it was a plug.

Everyone had their own survival strategy to suppress the urge to laugh.

And it might’ve worked—if not for Zhōu Yǒng’s perfectly timed actual fart.

Right after the instructor said “farting,” Zhōu Yǒng stood up and let one rip.

Then, with complete calm, he walked to the front to get seconds—leaving the rest of the boys in shambles.

“Pffft—”

“Ahahahaha—!”

Laughter, as it turns out, is contagious.

Even the girls who didn’t know what was going on started giggling.

Mò Xuěyáo, having witnessed the entire scene, nearly lost control herself. In a panic, she grabbed two chili peppers and shoved them into her mouth, using the spiciness as a distraction.

“What’s so funny?! What are you laughing at?!” The female instructor’s face darkened, her anger rising.

She, it seemed, had an even shorter fuse than the male instructors.

During meals, the instructors roamed the room, keeping an eye on all the students.

But the more she scolded, the harder it became for the boys to suppress their laughter.

Eventually, it exploded—chuckling turned to full-on chaos.

The once silent canteen was now an echo chamber of laughter, and all order was lost.

“You lot! Take your trays and stand in the back to eat!” she shouted.

The boys, still laughing, obediently moved to the back of the room.

Liú Xiǎowěi couldn’t stop laughing—he was trembling so much, his tray slipped and clattered to the ground.

“Ahahahaha—damn it… I’m dying here…”

“Sh*t, will you shut up already? I’m gonna piss myself… hahahaha…”

The boys laughed and cursed, but none could stop.

“If you all love laughing so much, then skip dinner! Stay here and laugh to your heart’s content!” the instructor yelled furiously.

Even Huáng Jú, who had no idea what had happened, walked over quickly. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve been laughing non-stop during dinner. Who knows why—must be something wrong with their heads.”

“Ahem. What’s so funny?” Huáng Jú walked up and gave Liú Xiǎowěi a light smack on the head. “You, especially. Care to explain?”

But no one could talk straight— even the scholarly Xuě Xiānshēng was coughing from laughing too hard.

Mò Xuěyáo could hardly believe it.

The refined, genteel Mr. Xuě was laughing… uncontrollably.

Yes, forgive her for the inappropriate phrasing, but… he was laughing so hard he practically “shook like a flower in the wind.”

Maybe it was his pale complexion that made the laughter look especially… delicate.

“Ugh… It’s because… when Zhōu Yǒng was eating…” Xuě Xiānshēng took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, “he finished his whole tray in thirty seconds…”

“That’s funny?” Huáng Jú looked confused. “He was just hungry.”

“No, it’s the timing… right after the instructor said ‘mouth-farting,’ he stood up and actually farted…”

“Pfft—haha…” Huáng Jú couldn’t hold it either and burst out laughing before quickly clearing his throat. “Still, you all know you’re not supposed to make noise during meals. So enough. Finish up quietly.”

“Yes, sir…”

The boys finally began to calm down.

But eating while standing with a tray was awkward, so most just wolfed down a few bites before dumping their leftovers.

Meanwhile, Zhōu Yǒng was nearly done with his second round of food.

He still hadn’t figured out what had happened or why all his tablemates were gone, leaving him sitting there alone.

For Mò Xuěyáo, this dinner was an ordeal—mostly because it was just so hard not to laugh.

When she finally stepped out of the canteen and into the fresh evening air, she let out a few hearty laughs.

But now that she could laugh, she found she didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

People are such contradictions, aren’t they?

“What happened back there?!” Huā Yínyín came running up, desperate for answers—clearly dying from holding it in during dinner.

“It’s nothing really, just that…” Mò Xuěyáo began explaining, but realized Yínyín’s attention wasn’t on her at all.

“Look! Look!” Huā Yínyín whispered excitedly, pointing behind her.

Mò Xuěyáo turned around.

And saw the sunshine-boy Ān Ruòsù reaching out to gently brush a grain of rice from Lǐ Hóngrǎn’s lips.

Lǐ Hóngrǎn, tall at 1.8 meters, stood facing Ān Ruòsù, who was about 1.7. The sunset bathed the two in golden light, creating a gentle, almost cinematic moment.

“Ahhh! I knew it! I knew Ān Ruòsù likes boys!” Huā Yínyín squealed under her breath.

“…Please don’t overanalyze,” Mò Xuěyáo muttered helplessly. “They’re just bros. He was just helping him out.”

“Hehe~ is that so?” Huā Yínyín giggled, totally ignoring her. “I’m going to sketch that scene when we get back!”

Mò Xuěyáo gave a massive eye roll.

Sure, the moment was a little strange, but it wasn’t that unusual. Close friends could be a bit affectionate sometimes.

Maybe Lǐ Hóngrǎn just couldn’t reach that grain of rice and got annoyed, so Ān Ruòsù helped him out.

Afterward, the two of them casually rejoined the boys' group and walked off.

From that alone, it was clear there wasn’t anything special going on between them.

Mò Xuěyáo didn’t waste time on Huā Yínyín—who was now walking pigeon-toed, clearly imagining all kinds of crazy scenarios—and quickly caught up with the girls’ group.

Since the instructors had gone to eat, the students weren’t made to walk in perfect lines. Instead, they strolled in clumps, as if they were out window-shopping.

“Hey! Mò Xuěyáo! Wait up!” Huā Yínyín called out, rushing to catch up.

The girls were gossiping about Ān Ruòsù and Lǐ Hóngrǎn.

“Wait, if those two really got together, how would they… you know… do it?” Wáng Jiālè blinked innocently. She knew about boy-girl stuff, but couldn’t imagine how it worked between two boys.

“Pfft.” Mò Xiǎoxiào covered her mouth, eyes curved like crescent moons. “Ahem… those kinds of things… Lele, best not to ask.”

“Pshh, what’s so hard to figure out?” Chá Lí said calmly, shrugging. “Just use your butt.”

Both Mò Xuěyáo and Wáng Jiālè turned bright red.

“Alright, alright. Ān Ruòsù and Lǐ Hóngrǎn are both normal boys, okay? Don’t go making wild guesses,” class monitor Lǐ Wǎnyán stepped in. “Anyone heading back to the dorms, come with me. I’ve got the keys. If you want to stop by the convenience shop, go ahead. Just make sure you find your way back.”

“No problem~” Chá Lí wrapped an arm around Wáng Jiālè. “Lele, come buy a drink with me?”

“U-uh… okay…” Wáng Jiālè still hadn’t recovered from earlier, answering dazedly.

About half the girls peeled off toward the shop. It was clear none of them were hurting for money.

The boys, on the other hand, moved as one unit—if one went to the shop, the whole squad followed. Much rowdier.

“Alright, let’s head back first,” Lǐ Wǎnyán said, rubbing her temples tiredly. “Whoever gets there first can shower first.”

“Ooh, showers! Hey, Xuěyáo, wanna shower together?” Huā Yínyín turned to Mò Xuěyáo with hopeful eyes.

…Wait, since when was she calling her Xuěyáo?

Mò Xuěyáo grumbled internally, pretending not to hear her at all.