Transmigrating Into A Sadistic Novel And Becoming A Master Of Painting Rosy Pictures - Chapter 102

Shang Qinghui didn’t interact with Bian Yingning further, and Bian Yingning didn’t pay attention, nor did she have time to; she was completely focused on her dish.

An hour isn’t long or short; it’s more than enough time to prepare a simple meal. But in a competition, you have to consider what you’ll make, what others will make, and how to stand out.

With limited ingredients, a competition is different from regular cooking, so the time wasn’t sufficient.

With five minutes left, the hall became noisy; students who hadn’t finished were making frantic sounds. This tested their endurance.

Shang Qinghui watched Marco nervously plating his dish, glancing discreetly at Bian Yingning.

She was making dessert, holding a macaron shell and a spatula, spreading something on it, very calmly.

Shang Qinghui thought she was playing a building game, like building a wall. Shang Qinghui quickly looked away.

Affected by the atmosphere, she felt inexplicably nervous, even though the competition didn’t directly involve her.

“Ten seconds left! Stop immediately! Otherwise, it will be considered cheating,” the emcee announced loudly.

“Ten, nine, eight… three, two, one! Stop!”

With the time up, Shang Qinghui released a sigh of relief. Marco had plated his steak, decorating it with small radish flowers.

“Our staff will cover the dishes and present them to the judges.”

There were five teams; Bian Yingning’s team was third. Their dish was covered—to prevent heat loss and to prevent contestants from tampering with their dishes while the judges were evaluating others.

“Try this.”

As Shang Qinghui watched the judges taste the first team’s dish, Bian Yingning’s voice suddenly sounded.

She turned to see a small bowl of noodles—Bian Yingning’s creation. The aroma wafted into her nose.

It smelled delicious, like zhajiangmian (noodles with fermented soybean paste). The noodles were golden and coated in sauce.

Honestly, Shang Qinghui swallowed.

“Mine?” Marco, seeing Bian Yingning give noodles to Shang Qinghui, came over. He hadn’t tasted Bian Yingning’s noodles.

“Shang, do you want some? If not, I’ll eat it.”

Seeing Shang Qinghui hesitate, the considerate Marco offered to help. Only Shang Qinghui understood him.

Shang Qinghui hadn’t looked at Bian Yingning; she hesitated, avoiding eye contact even when Bian Yingning spoke.

Shang Qinghui followed her heart, taking the bowl and saying in French to Marco, “This is mine.”

Something that no one wants becomes desirable when someone tries to take it.

The bowl wasn’t large; Bian Yingning held it; their fingers brushed. Shang Qinghui couldn’t describe the feeling.

It was smooth and quick. She didn’t dislike it.

As she reached for a fork, Marco held up a fork, “Shang, just one bite! Just one!”

Shang Qinghui hugged the bowl, “No, I haven’t eaten yet.”

Realizing this didn’t fit her persona, she quickly glanced at Bian Yingning, who was watching them.

Noticing Shang Qinghui’s gaze, she casually asked, “What are you talking about?”

Shang Qinghui didn’t want her to know she was fighting with Marco over the noodles.

She said casually, “Oh, he said your noodles smell strange; he wants to study them.”

She discreetly moved the noodles.

Shang Qinghui lied without blinking. But Marco wanted a bite, so she quickly put the noodles back.

“Heh.” Bian Yingning chuckled.

Shang Qinghui felt uneasy. She didn’t know why Bian Yingning was laughing; shouldn’t she be angry? Why was she laughing?

Feeling guilty, Shang Qinghui felt awkward; she didn’t know what to do with her hands and feet. Marco kept trying to get a bite.

She wanted to try Bian Yingning’s cooking. The salad didn’t count; these noodles were the only dish she had made.

After watching them for a while, Bian Yingning said, “There’s more in the big bowl; he can take some himself.”

Shang Qinghui’s face darkened; she thought there was only a little left! Was Bian Yingning teasing her?

Was she enjoying seeing us fight over her food?

Feeling petty, Shang Qinghui glared at Marco, saying in French, “There’s more in the pot; get some yourself.”

The innocent Marco said, “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Shang Qinghui immediately turned to Bian Yingning, “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Bian Yingning: “…”

Although they seemed to be bickering, their atmosphere had changed. The tension was gone.

Shang Qinghui quickly finished the noodles. Even though she disliked Bian Yingning, she had to admit the noodles were good.

After finishing, Shang Qinghui wanted more, but Marco was already eating the rest.

“?”

“Why did you eat it all?!” Shang Qinghui was angry.

Marco finished the noodles, licking his lips, “Delicious! My first time eating Chinese noodles. Great.”

Shang Qinghui pursed her lips; she had always gotten what she wanted; only things she was tired of were discarded…

This was the first time someone dared to compete with her for something she wanted!

But she had no reason to question him.

Shang Qinghui glared at Bian Yingning, who seemed unconcerned.

Bian Yingning withdrew her gaze, “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Shang Qinghui couldn’t speak. Anger burned within her—her food had been taken—but she couldn’t express it, suppressing her feelings.

She snorted, putting the bowl down forcefully, moving away to watch the judges.

The worst thing is when someone gives you a little of something delicious, making you crave more but not giving you more.

Bian Yingning didn’t know why she was angry again; her face was puffed up; she looked arrogant.

Before she could ask, Meng Weixin approached, speaking stiffly, “Bian Yingning.”

“What?” Bian Yingning stopped, waiting.

“Who do you think will win?” Meng Weixin was confident, almost writing “first place” on her face.

“If you ask me…” Bian Yingning pondered; Meng Weixin waited.

Bian Yingning smiled, “Me, of course.”

“Heh, overconfident,” Meng Weixin scoffed, “I’ll win; I’ll win the championship.”

Bian Yingning frowned, “The results will be announced soon; won’t you be embarrassed if you lose?”

Shouldn’t she wait before boasting?

Meng Weixin gritted her teeth, glaring at Bian Yingning, “I won’t lose.”

“Whether you win or lose is none of my business,” Bian Yingning said unenthusiastically, “Stop talking to me; learn Chinese; your accent hurts my ears.”

Returning grandly, befriending Hua Cancan, holding a party to win over Shang Qinghui and others—so childish.

Meng Weixin was greatly affected, “What do you mean! Are you saying I’m not Chinese?!”

Bian Yingning thought she was crazy. She walked away, taking off her chef’s uniform, not planning to wait for the results.

The hall was large and crowded. The judges were evaluating the first team’s dish; the team stood before them; everyone’s attention was on them.

So, no one noticed Bian Yingning leave.

“Hey, that French-Chinese just talked to Bian Yingning, and she left?”

“I don’t know. Was she threatened?”

“It should have been the French-Chinese who left.”

During external competition, those who usually avoid contact become part of the “in-group.”

Shang Qinghui looked back and saw Bian Yingning leaving through the back door.

Meng Weixin saw her, her eyes lighting up, “Qinghui, I saw you; it’s a pity you’re not on my team.”

Shang Qinghui forced a smile; she was still suspicious of Bian Yingning and Meng Weixin’s relationship, and after hearing the gossip, she wasn’t friendly towards Meng Weixin.

“Why don’t you switch? Is Bian Yingning difficult to work with? I feel sorry for you.”

Shang Qinghui thought. Was Bian Yingning difficult?

She hadn’t said anything when Shang Qinghui deliberately translated incorrectly.

And… she kept feeding her, although only a little.

“It’s okay; I’m fine here,” Shang Qinghui refused.

Meng Weixin’s eyes darkened, but her tone was kind, “It’s okay. If you want to switch, I’ll handle it. I’ll say my translator and I don’t get along. No one will gossip about you.”

“It’s too much trouble.”

“It’s okay; your happiness is important.”

Shang Qinghui looked at her; Meng Weixin looked back, her eyes shining, as if filled with sincerity.

But she hadn’t said she was unhappy with Bian Yingning. She was saying Bian Yingning was difficult to work with, offering to help her switch teams.

Shang Qinghui was thinking about her motives when Marco came, “Meng? What do you mean? Stealing my translator in front of me?”

Meng Weixin had come with the French exchange students; she and Marco were schoolmates. Marco understood some Chinese and asked.

He didn’t need Shang Qinghui to translate, but since she was on his team and they had collaborated, she was his partner. Meng Weixin was wrong to try to take her. Especially in front of him.

Meng Weixin smiled, “Marco, you misunderstood. Isn’t your partner difficult to work with? I don’t want Shang to suffer.”

“Where did you hear that? She’s great.”

He hadn’t been blamed when he messed up; she helped him without complaint. Marco said, “Bian is the best partner; I’m glad to be on her team!”

Meng Weixin’s face darkened.

Shang Qinghui said, “No need. It’s just one competition.”

There were three rounds; the first was collaborative cooking; two teams would be eliminated. The second was a single dish based on a theme; one team would be eliminated, leaving two teams of four. The final round would involve new teams—two from their school and two from the exchange students; the previous partners would become rivals.

Shang Qinghui would only need to translate for Bian Yingning once more; there was no need for this.

Meng Weixin had planned to sabotage Bian Yingning but was praised by Marco.

This was impossible; she remembered how unpleasant Bian Yingning was as a child.

Collaboration? Someone as arrogant as Bian Yingning would only do what she wanted and wouldn’t listen to others’ suggestions.

“Okay, since Qinghui thinks it’s troublesome, let’s not switch,” Meng Weixin said, suppressing her jealousy.

Shang Qinghui said, “The results aren’t out yet. You think Bian Yingning will definitely make it to the second round?”

Meng Weixin was startled.

…

After Meng Weixin left, Shang Qinghui remained.

Marco asked, “Shang, are you unhappy on our team? Do you want to switch?”

Shang Qinghui didn’t answer, asking, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, Bian is great; working with her is reassuring.”

Shang Qinghui nodded thoughtfully.

As expected, they won first place and advanced to the second round.

Their dish was seemingly French but had Chinese elements.

Who serves steak with zhajiangmian? Who puts fruit in macarons?

It was a unique fusion of French and Chinese cuisine; although it seemed unusual, the taste was excellent.

After hearing the results, Shang Qinghui left. Two bodyguards followed her; before they could get the car, a white car, the same model as hers, stopped in front of her.

Bian Yingning, who had already left, leaned out, “I forgot to ask. Why did you try to sabotage me?”