Chapter 111: Is This Vinegar Really Sour?

Zhou Xunwen clenched his back molars tightly. "Bian Yang, you only scored 520 points. What right do you have to speak to me like that?"

No matter what, he had nearly 700 points.

Although there was a gap between his score and Tang Yu’s, he still firmly held second place in the grade. Getting into Tsinghua or Peking University was no problem.

But this guy, who had just over 500 points, where did he get the confidence to compare himself to me?!

"What right?" Bian Yang sneered coldly. "Just because I—"

The word ‘wife’ circled on the tip of his tongue.

His brow slowly lifted, his expression still calm and indifferent. "Bian Yang, your deskmate."

Zhou Xunwen frowned. "Tang Yu being first is her own skill. What does that have to do with you? Stop glorifying yourself."

"I'm only thirty points behind her, while you're over a hundred points behind. A single point difference in the college entrance exam can mean thousands of competitors. By then, who knows where you’ll be left—some obscure corner."

He sneered, full of contempt.

Meanwhile, Tang Yu had picked out the seasonings and waited and waited for Bian Yang, who didn’t show up or reply to her texts.

She pushed aside the clutter of bottles and jars on her, just as a sales clerk came by and helped her out of the shopping cart.

The young girl thanked her and pushed the fully loaded cart around the aisles searching for someone.

Luckily, he was tall. Standing on tiptoe, she spotted him.

As she pulled the cart over, she didn’t see anyone opposite Bian Yang. Before she reached him, she started complaining, "Bian Yang, what are you standing there for? I sent you a WeChat message and you didn’t—"

Bian Yang looked down at her; his indifferent expression noticeably softened.

Tang Yu approached him and finally saw Zhou Xunwen opposite. "Leave," she spat the final word.

The expression on Tang Yu’s face faded.

Zhou Xunwen couldn’t perceive it, his fingers slowly sinking into his palm, his eyes filled with an indescribable sadness.

Sadness at her expression just now.

Sadness that she was so close to Bian Yang.

Even sadder, that she said she hated him...

Bian Yang’s palm rested on her head, rubbing gently. “Done shopping?”

“Yeah.” Tang Yu withdrew her gaze.

Bian Yang picked up a bottle of vinegar, lazily examining it. “Is this vinegar sour?”

“How could vinegar not be sour?” she blinked lightly.

“You should ask Zhou,” Bian Yang smiled mischievously. “The supermarket is run by his family. He knows their vinegar best.”

Zhou Xunwen’s throat was bitter and hard to swallow.

Especially Bian Yang’s words—they were like stabbing a knife straight into his heart.

The air here suddenly felt thin.

He exhaled a breath of stale air, forcing a smile that felt like self-humiliation. “Tang Yu, I’m leaving first.”

Tang Yu arranged the items in the cart carefully, putting the peonies on top to avoid crushing them. She kept her head down and ignored him.

After Zhou Xunwen left, Bian Yang put the vinegar back and hummed softly.

Tang Yu looked up at him.

The boy’s expression was sour. She asked, “What’s wrong?”

“He said bad things about me,” he complained, “said I’m useless.”

Tang Yu immediately shook her head. “He’s talking nonsense. You’re the best.”

Bian Yang’s lips twitched into a barely noticeable smile, his tone rising. “Really?”

“Really!” She nodded emphatically.

Holding back a laugh, Bian Yang’s voice remained casual. “He also said I was bragging and holding you back.”

“No way. It was you who helped me improve my English.”

Tang Yu puffed her cheeks. “He knows nothing. Who gave him the right to say that? I’m going to settle this with him.”

She puffed up, ready to confront, but Bian Yang stopped her.

He looked visibly more relaxed, his fingers subtly stroking her wrist, but sighed. “Forget it. We don’t stoop to petty people. He’s just jealous of how close we are and trying to drive a wedge between us.”

Tang Yu frowned. “People like that are so mean.”

I told you he’s no good.

“Exactly.” Bian Yang’s dark eyes gleamed with amusement. “People as good as me are rare. You better cherish me.”

Tang Yu nodded noncommittally, her fluffy cheeks flushed pink in the supermarket’s overhead light, looking utterly adorable.

Satisfied by her reaction, Bian Yang smiled.

The two then headed to the fruit and vegetable sections, filling the cart.

This time, Tang Yu paid. Bian Yang didn’t stop her, leaning against the railing at the checkout, smiling softly.

He enjoyed the feeling of being ‘lavishly cared for.’

Outside the supermarket, the blazing sun was like an oven.

Bian Yang found a shady spot and placed her and the huge shopping bags together.

“Wait here a bit. I’ll call a car. We’ll take a taxi back.”

“Okay.” She nodded obediently, holding the peonies in her arms.

Bian Yang stood by the roadside. Saturdays at the big supermarket were crowded, making taxis hard to catch.

Tang Yu watched his tall figure from afar. Someone passed by her side. She bent down carrying the bags and shifted to the side, but suddenly a sharp, stabbing pain surged through her abdomen, fierce and sudden, like needles piercing her.

She couldn’t straighten up, her hands pressed against the tree trunk, fingertips trembling.

Within seconds, sweat beaded on her forehead. Her face turned pale almost instantly.

Her menstrual cycle had always been irregular, and she was used to cramps.

But this time, the pain was worse than ever before.

She felt blood uncontrollably flowing between her legs. Looking down, her jeans were already stained red.

Leaning against the tree, she bent over uncontrollably, curling up like a shrimp.

Though the sun still burned fiercely, her back felt icy cold, drenched in cold sweat.

Bian Yang had called the car, but when he turned to find her, he saw her crouched by the tree with her head buried in her knees, clearly unwell.

He told the driver to wait a moment and hurried over, crouching in front of her to study her expression. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Her back was wet to the touch.

Tang Yu vaguely heard his voice, parted her lips to answer, but no sound came out.

Bian Yang cupped her pale little face.

He frowned. “Can you get up? I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“No.” She gripped his sleeve tightly, lips white from biting. Softly, “It’s… that time.”

Bian Yang suddenly recalled the doctor’s advice, his heart tightening.

Not wanting to frighten her, a flicker of harshness flashed in his eyes but was quickly suppressed.

He tried to calm his voice, “Can I carry you?”

Tang Yu was in too much pain—the sharp, relentless stabbing in her abdomen felt like a chisel breaking through stone. Knowing she probably couldn’t make it on foot, she nodded weakly.

But then she mentioned something, her knuckles white as she gripped his sleeve tightly, whispering, “I’ve… started bleeding…”

She had also started at the back.

If he carried her, it would stain him too.

With only one shirt on, Bian Yang didn’t hesitate to take off his jacket.

Her waist was slender. He bent down and tied his sleeve around her waist; his loose white short-sleeve shirt covered her back.

With one hand supporting her bent knees while holding the shopping bags, his other arm embraced her waist. Tang Yu’s hands instinctively circled his neck, her ear close to the unshielded thump of his heartbeat.

Bian Yang tossed the shopping bags into the trunk, then carried her into the back seat. Tang Yu sat on his lap.

Perhaps because of their close embrace, the driver couldn’t help but glance in the rearview mirror, only noticing their posture and not Tang Yu’s pale face.

Feeling awkward under his gaze but reluctant to sit properly for fear of staining the seat, Tang Yu hesitated.

Bian Yang seemed to sense her discomfort. His palm rose to block the light before gently pressing her head against his chest. In a low voice, he said, “Rest a moment. We’ll be there soon.”