Transmigrating Into A Sadistic Novel And Becoming A Master Of Painting Rosy Pictures - Chapter 101

Bian Yingning and Marco stared at Shang Qinghui with complex expressions.

Despite their intense gazes, Shang Qinghui remained unfazed, only unconsciously clenching her fists in her pockets.

Seeing Marco’s joyful smile and Shang Qinghui’s innocent expression, Bian Yingning fell into thought.

Although she hadn’t studied French, she had been to France several times. Marco’s words were basic French phrases, easily learned by anyone.

For a moment, she wondered if Shang Qinghui was treating her like a fool, or if she should look at Shang Qinghui with pity.

It felt like Shang Qinghui was stirring up trouble. Perhaps she wanted to say these things to Bian Yingning herself?

Bian Yingning looked up at them, saying calmly, “If I’m not mistaken, this has nothing to do with luck. Every team has the same ingredients.”

Shang Qinghui: “…”

She glanced around; no one was complaining about their ingredients.

Damn it, she’d been careless. She thought they were getting mystery boxes.

Shang Qinghui immediately took the initiative, “This foreigner is too much! He’s accusing people without understanding the situation. He must be trying to cause trouble.”

Someone was indeed trying to cause trouble.

Marco tilted his head, looking at Shang Qinghui, scratching his head as if pondering a profound question.

He finally asked Shang Qinghui in French what Bian Yingning had said.

“Oh, she said she’s annoyed just seeing you,” Shang Qinghui replied casually.

Realizing her mistake, Shang Qinghui quickly covered her mouth, not daring to look at Bian Yingning. A shadow fell over her. Bian Yingning had stood up.

Shang Qinghui wanted to slap herself.

She was stupid! Her revenge plan hadn’t even started, and she’d ruined it herself!

When Marco asked her a question, she hadn’t noticed that she’d replied in Chinese.

“What do you mean, ‘she said she’s annoyed just seeing you’?” Bian Yingning was now very close, so close that it felt like she was whispering in Shang Qinghui’s ear.

Her voice was emotionless, yet Shang Qinghui could hear her own heart pounding.

“She… he,” Shang Qinghui stammered, turning to Marco, “He said he doesn’t want to work with you; he’s annoyed just seeing you.”

Marco, with his deep, amber eyes, looked at Shang Qinghui’s innocent eyes, wondering why such a cute girl could say such things without changing her expression.

He spoke in a mixture of Chinese, English, and French, making it hard to understand, “You… you… what… I… don’t… understand?”

…

…

A deathly silence filled their station.

Bian Yingning couldn’t help but laugh.

“Pfft—

Cough, cough, cough—”

She tried to suppress her laughter but choked on her own saliva. She hadn’t expected Shang Qinghui to fail so quickly, and in this way.

Shang Qinghui’s face turned bright red. She hadn’t expected Marco to understand Chinese.

Realizing her plan had failed, Shang Qinghui, admitting defeat, said loudly, “Sorry! Pardon!”

She turned to run but was pulled back by Bian Yingning. The floor was slippery; Shang Qinghui spun half a circle and fell onto Bian Yingning.

Bian Yingning stepped back, allowing her to stand, “Running away?”

Shang Qinghui, looking wronged, her face still red, said, “What else do you want?”

Her revenge hadn’t started, and she’d already failed. She just wanted to be left alone.

Bian Yingning found it funny, “You’re trying to cause trouble, and you’re feeling wronged?”

“Mind your own business,” Shang Qinghui muttered angrily.

“Flick——.”

“?”

Shang Qinghui, holding her forehead after being flicked, looked at Bian Yingning incredulously.

“You hit me?” Shang Qinghui’s eyes widened.

“You ruined my reputation; I’m just retaliating.”

“You pulled me back just to hit me?” Shang Qinghui stared at Bian Yingning, demanding an answer.

Marco, who understood some Chinese, watched the two glaring at each other, ready to fight. He looked at the emcee introducing the judges and explaining the rules, unsure what to do.

Bian Yingning approached Shang Qinghui; their clothes touched.

It felt like sandpaper against her heart.

They were so close, their noses almost touching.

“Not only that, you have to continue translating; you can’t leave your mess and run away,” Bian Yingning said, looking into Shang Qinghui’s eyes.

Although her lips didn’t touch Shang Qinghui’s, Shang Qinghui felt an itch on her lips, like a feather brushing against them.

Too close.

Shang Qinghui stepped back, biting her lip, feeling restless and unable to find a solution.

“Okay, okay, don’t fight because of me!” Marco stepped between them, speaking in French.

Shang Qinghui understood. What did he mean, fighting because of him? ..…

“Okay, the competition is about to start. Don’t make a fuss,” Bian Yingning said, looking only at Shang Qinghui.

Shang Qinghui lowered her head, silent.

Although Bian Yingning didn’t know what she had done to make Shang Qinghui resentful, remembering Shang Qinghui’s drunken words—”bad woman”—she knew she must have done something unnoticed that angered her, leading Shang Qinghui to become her translator to sabotage her competition.

Bian Yingning took out the ingredients, preparing to check what she could make. Turning around, she found Shang Qinghui had run away.

Bian Yingning was only momentarily stunned before resuming her work.

Marco listened attentively to the emcee; Bian Yingning wasn’t interested in the opening remarks. After organizing her ingredients, she wondered how to communicate with Marco when she heard footsteps.

Turning her head, she saw Shang Qinghui return. She had probably washed her face; her temples were damp, and her face was refreshed.

Shang Qinghui didn’t look at Bian Yingning, obviously awkward, going to stand beside Marco. Marco didn’t notice she had left and returned; seeing her, he asked her the meaning of something the emcee had said; he hadn’t understood the translation.

Bian Yingning knew her temperament and didn’t press the issue, tacitly ignoring it.

This round was free-style; after the emcee finished, the competition began.

Although there was a timer on the screen, a large hourglass was also used. As the sand flowed, the tension increased.

They had an hour; the number of dishes didn’t matter, but they had to collaborate.

“Ask him if he has any ideas,” Bian Yingning said, not rushing to start.

Even if Shang Qinghui didn’t approach her, she still had to translate.

Shang Qinghui translated for Marco.

Marco spoke with a rolling “R” sound.

Bian Yingning watched them.

Strange. The same language, yet Shang Qinghui’s voice sounded much better than Marco’s.

After Marco finished, Shang Qinghui looked at Bian Yingning.

Their eyes met. It felt like longing, admiration, or…

It was completely different from their previous eye contact.

Shang Qinghui’s heart trembled.

She thought about why she was translating for Bian Yingning.

She wanted to teach her a lesson—

Initially, it was because Bian Yingning had told her bodyguards her whereabouts; later, it was because her parents compared her to Bian Yingning.

She just disliked her.

But now, she realized how childish she was.

Under Bian Yingning’s gaze, she felt exposed. Her plans suddenly seemed pointless.

Shang Qinghui shook her head, bored.

Bian Yingning was still looking at her.

“He said thirteen courses are impossible; he wants to simplify it—an appetizer, soup, steak as the main course, and dessert. This is just his idea; it depends on you.”

Bian Yingning considered Marco’s suggestion and stated her thoughts; Shang Qinghui translated diligently.

They started working; Shang Qinghui stood behind them, switching between Chinese and French, ensuring smooth communication.

They were serious; the language barrier didn’t affect them.

Bian Yingning was chopping meat for the soup; she had already discussed the menu with Marco.

Shang Qinghui was amazed.

A famous socialite, who controlled half of the Bian family’s assets… had this side to her.

Her gaze moved from Bian Yingning’s hands, up her arms, to her face.

Bian Yingning focused on her work, oblivious to her surroundings.

Her profile was clean; her lips were slightly pursed; she wasn’t cold or gentle.

Shang Qinghui couldn’t find the right words.

She thought of tulips.

Pink tulips.

While waiting for the soup, Bian Yingning made a vegetable salad as an appetizer. She took some out and added more tomatoes, giving it to Shang Qinghui.

Shang Qinghui was surprised, looking at her. She hadn’t expected Bian Yingning to act as if nothing had happened.

“Try it? You’ve worked hard translating,” Bian Yingning said with a faint smile, as if she hadn’t been the one who flicked Shang Qinghui’s forehead.

Shang Qinghui took it.

She understood why Bian Yingning could be so popular. Adaptable and not holding grudges… many people would like that.

She felt a surge of sweetness, almost forgetting her anger.

She tasted the ice plant; it had some dressing; it was sweet and sour, refreshing, and delicious.

She tasted the tomatoes; the juice burst in her mouth; the seasoning was delicious.

The only downside was that it was cold.

“How is it?” Bian Yingning looked at her, her gaze slightly doting, like feeding a kitten.

Shang Qinghui thought she was mistaken. When she looked again, Bian Yingning’s gaze was calm.

She had been mistaken.

“It’s just salad,” Shang Qinghui said casually.

Everyone was busy; the other translators just watched. Only she could “sneak a bite.”

“It’s different,” Bian Yingning said, turning back to her work.

“How?” Shang Qinghui whispered.

“I made it,” Bian Yingning said without looking up.

…

What? Just because she made it, it was better?

Shang Qinghui rolled her eyes but ate the salad quickly. It was probably good because others couldn’t eat it.

As she looked for a place to put the bowl, a conversation popped into her mind:

“Will you make it for me again if I like it?”

“As long as you want to eat it, I’ll make it for you.”

Shang Qinghui froze.

Why did I remember this? Had someone said this to me?

She couldn’t find any trace of this conversation in her memory. It was probably just her mind wandering.

Shang Qinghui shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

Bian Yingning was in charge of the soup, noodles, and salad; Marco was preparing the steak and dessert. They worked efficiently, occasionally asking each other to taste and add ingredients.

Shang Qinghui couldn’t understand much; she only knew that the things she couldn’t eat before became edible.

An hour wasn’t long for the contestants but felt long for the spectators.

Shang Qinghui yawned when Marco cried out, “Oh non! Ce n’est pas vrai!”

She mechanically translated, “No, this isn’t true.”

Bian Yingning, stirring sauce, almost dropped her bowl. Only Shang Qinghui could say such dramatic words so emotionlessly.

“What’s wrong?” Bian Yingning asked Marco.

Marco looked distraught, saying something about his dessert.

Shang Qinghui frowned, her drowsiness gone, “He’s making macaron filling, but he accidentally put too much sugar because the bag’s opening was too large.”

Shang Qinghui looked at the clock; only twenty minutes left. The steak hadn’t been cooked yet.

Marco continued,

“Macarons are already sweet; sometimes you don’t need to add sugar to the filling. He added some jam because it was sour, so he added a little sugar to balance it. He wanted to save time weighing it and didn’t notice.”

Bian Yingning saw the filling; the powdered sugar had dissolved; it couldn’t be removed. She didn’t see how much he’d added, but she knew the dessert would be too sweet.

Marco was sweating, clenching his fists.

A plate fell, making a loud crash, startling everyone. Apologies followed, but everyone was nervous.

Bian Yingning sighed, “Tell him it’s okay; I’ll handle it. He should prepare the steak; I’ll make the macarons.”

Shang Qinghui relayed this; Marco nodded, taking deep breaths before continuing.

Bian Yingning added some seasoning to her sauce.

Shang Qinghui noticed that even when Marco was trembling, Bian Yingning remained calm, continuing her work.

She looked around; everyone was tense.

Was Bian Yingning unconcerned about the competition, or was she that mentally strong?

Marco, perhaps seeing Bian Yingning feed Shang Qinghui, added extra steak, cutting it into small pieces and asking Shang Qinghui to taste it.

Shang Qinghui took a piece; it was okay. She had tasted many dishes made by great chefs; Marco’s was average.

But Marco looked at her expectantly.

Shang Qinghui frowned, “Bien, très bien!”

Marco was satisfied and continued working; his back showed confidence.

Bian Yingning glanced at Shang Qinghui, “Work on your facial expressions.”

Shang Qinghui, having compromised her integrity, muttered, “I’m just kind.”

She couldn’t say anything hurtful.

Marco’s confident back stiffened; he glared at them. Even if his Chinese wasn’t good, he knew they were questioning his steak.

Bian Yingning pretended not to see. She forgot he understood some Chinese.

Shang Qinghui also looked away. If she didn’t see, she wouldn’t know.

“Shang, get Bian a piece of steak,” Marco said, confident in his skills. He was watching the steak; Bian Yingning was busy; he asked Shang Qinghui for help.

Shang Qinghui wanted to refuse but felt she owed him. She took a piece of steak and gave it to Bian Yingning.

She looked at the steak, “Marco wants you to try it.”

“Higher.”

Bian Yingning, stirring noodles, only glanced at the steak.

Shang Qinghui reluctantly raised her hand.

Bian Yingning still didn’t move, “Higher. Do you think everyone is as short as you?”

Shang Qinghui glared at her, wanting to shove the steak into Bian Yingning’s nose.

How dare she act so superior!

Shang Qinghui shoved the steak towards Bian Yingning’s face. Seeing that she didn’t take it, she was about to ask if she didn’t want it when Bian Yingning lowered her head and bit into the steak.

Shang Qinghui was startled. Her hand went limp.

She realized it looked like she was feeding Bian Yingning.

Bian Yingning didn’t notice Shang Qinghui’s reddening ears; her hands were wet from rinsing the noodles, so she didn’t want to use a fork.

“It’s good, but the black pepper sauce could be stronger, and the heat could be lower,” Bian Yingning said after eating.

Shang Qinghui replied “Oh ” and went back to Marco, not returning to Bian Yingning.