Transmigrating Into A Sadistic Novel And Becoming A Master Of Painting Rosy Pictures - Chapter 110

Because it was an exchange competition, quite a few school leaders came to watch, though they were seated on the sides. Two long tables were set up on either side, each seating four leaders. Some culinary students were also present to observe and learn.

The dean of the Culinary Arts department, one of the judges, a man in his fifties, smiled and said, “Let’s just start. If that student is late, it’s his fault for not managing his time; we won’t delay the competition for him.”

Usually, when the dean spoke, other teachers wouldn’t object, but there were also non-school judges present.

“That’s not acceptable. Since it’s a team competition, if one partner is absent, how can the other compete alone?”

A French teacher immediately spoke up.

“Yes,” he said, and other teachers agreed, “In a team competition, if one person is absent, it’s equivalent to the team forfeiting.”

“This…”

“Teacher, are we still having the competition?”

While the judges were deliberating, Meng Weixin urged.

“Teacher, I have a question.”

Bian Yingning spoke up.

“Can’t you ask after the competition?” Meng Weixin said, glaring at her.

Zhang Zhizhi stepped forward, subtly blocking Meng Weixin’s gaze.

The dean looked at Meng Weixin, seemingly trying to calm her, “No need to rush,” then turned to Bian Yingning, “Go ahead.”

“I’d like to ask the French teacher, since your student is absent, don’t you have anything to say?”

Ignoring Meng Weixin, Bian Yingning scanned the teachers, her voice soft yet powerful.

“Because your student is late, affecting my competition, how should this be handled? Who is responsible?”

There was a translator present; the French teachers were stunned.

“And, you should be worried about your student’s safety and find him. Why start the competition and disqualify our team?”

“I have reason to suspect this is a tactic to prevent me from competing.”

No one expected Bian Yingning to directly question the teachers; the hall erupted in murmurs:

“Wow, I thought I was just watching a competition; it looks like a fight is about to break out!”

“Yeah, students can be late for the Gaokao (college entrance exam) by fifteen minutes; it’s just an exchange competition; why is it such a big deal?”

“I agree. It’s just one person being late; shouldn’t the others be happy? They have more time than Bian Yingning’s team. Why disqualify them?”

“That’s possible. They might have prevented Bian Yingning from competing by making her partner absent…”

“Bian Yingning, be careful what you say!” A college secretary shouted.

“Teacher, every word I’ve said is well-considered. I wonder if you can say the same,” Bian Yingning said calmly, smiling broadly.

But the smile didn’t look friendly to the secretary. Realizing her status, he fell silent.

“I’m the volunteer in charge of bringing the French students,” a girl with a name tag said hesitantly, blushing.

Everyone looked at her.

She was nervous but said, “I asked the teacher in charge, and he said all the students participating in the cooking competition were present, so I brought them here…”

The pressure fell on the French teacher. After hearing the translation, he quickly glanced at Meng Weixin before apologizing, saying he might have miscounted; there were many students, and he had made a mistake.

He wasn’t worried about their student because he believed Haicheng University was safe and friendly to exchange students.

But no one really believed them.

…

It was noon; students poured out of the building; traffic was heavy; Shang Qinghui and Marco got out of the car and ran to the exhibition hall.

Finally arriving, breathless and disheveled, she saw Bian Yingning leaning against the wall, looking up at the sky.

She stopped abruptly. Bian Yingning looked lonely and desolate, like a defeated loser.

Marco almost bumped into Shang Qinghui. Seeing Bian Yingning, he also stopped.

“Is the competition over?” Marco asked.

Shang Qinghui didn’t speak; she felt suffocated. She slowed down, approaching Bian Yingning, who turned to look at her.

Seeing her, Bian Yingning smiled, “You’re back. Tired?”

Glancing at her messy hair, Bian Yingning naturally reached out and touched her hair. It was smooth, like water. Bian Yingning gently smoothed Shang Qinghui’s hair.

Shang Qinghui didn’t dodge; her lips were slightly pursed; her eyes drooped; she looked wronged and innocent.

“I… I’m late?” she asked softly, still breathless, her face flushed.

“Not late,” Bian Yingning smiled softly.

This comforting smile was like a fuse. Shang Qinghui took a deep breath, gritting her teeth, “Bian Yingning, are you stupid? It’s just a simple competition; why were you treated like that?!”

She turned and kicked open the exhibition hall door. She was angry; it was just a competition; why were they disqualified because her partner was late?

And Bian Yingning, who was so skillful when bickering with her, acted so delicate with others?

Why was she acting so sad? It was useless!

She only made others suffer; no one made her suffer. She wanted to see who the organizers were.

Full of anger and a desire for justice, Shang Qinghui—encountered the shocked faces of the teachers and staff.

Shang Qinghui: “…”

There was no one at the stations; the French and Chinese teachers were huddled together, discussing something.

Zhang Zhizhi and her partner were chatting in a corner, looking shocked. This wasn’t a competition.

The idea of being disqualified and putting on a brave face was false.

Shang Qinghui took a step back. Bian Yingning was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, but now facing her, her eyes full of surprise and amusement; there was no sadness; she was trying to suppress a smile.

Shang Qinghui swore she and Bian Yingning would never get along with each other!

…

“I didn’t know you’d kick the door. I didn’t say anything; I said you weren’t late,”

Shang Qinghui walked towards her car, each step forceful, as if the ground were Bian Yingning’s face.

Bian Yingning followed, explaining, but Shang Qinghui ignored her.

Seeing her bodyguards arrive, Bian Yingning quickly stepped in front of her. Shang Qinghui tried to walk around her; Bian Yingning blocked her again.

After several attempts, Shang Qinghui stopped; as she was about to tell Bian Yingning to get out of the way, she bumped her forehead against Bian Yingning’s chin.

“Hiss——”

“Hiss——”

One holding her chin, the other her forehead, both with tears in their eyes.

Zhang Zhizhi: “…” What a disaster.

Bian Yingning: “…My chin might be dislocated.”

Shang Qinghui sneered, “I might have a concussion.”

Bian Yingning’s eyes lit up, “Great. Let’s go to the hospital for a checkup; I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Get lost!”

Watching Shang Qinghui’s car leave, Bian Yingning sighed.

Zhang Zhizhi patted her shoulder, “Cheer up. Relationships are like this—sweet, sour, funny, and frustrating; bittersweet.”

“…You seem to know a lot.”

“Mm, Hua Jiangrong’s drama is almost over; I’ve watched each episode three times; I’ve mastered the essence of love,” Zhang Zhizhi said proudly.

Bian Yingning’s eyes twitched.

…

The competition couldn’t continue; the dean announced a postponement.

Bian Yingning pointed out a flaw in the competition rules. Since the theme was “illusion and reality,” some contestants might create dishes that were partly edible and partly inedible.

If the judges watched the process closely, how could they distinguish between illusion and reality?

Knowing the ingredients would affect the judging.

Her words stunned everyone; the organizers decided to postpone the competition and replan it. Postponing was better than continuing and creating a scandal.

Fixing the flaw would show their professionalism. It was just an exchange competition; a scandal would be bad for everyone.

Shang Qinghui took almost half an hour to bring Marco; Bian Yingning was waiting for her.

She hadn’t expected Shang Qinghui to think she had been disqualified and to kick open the door in front of everyone.

At that moment, her fierce look was cute.

Bian Yingning smiled.

Bian’s mother entered, seeing Bian Yingning smiling at a company document.

Bian’s mother: “…Did sales increase this quarter?”

Startled, Bian Yingning hid her smile, coughing, “No. I just thought of something… funny.”

Bian’s mother glared at her, placing hot milk on her desk, “It’s late; go to sleep.”

Bian Yingning agreed, taking the milk; it was warm; even her heart felt comfortable.

“When are you going on vacation?” Bian’s mother asked.

“Next week.”

“The southern project is starting; let’s go to the temple after your vacation to check the start date.”

“Okay. Let’s stay a few days; it’s like a vacation,” Bian Yingning smiled, “You should rest too.”

She might have refused before, but not now.

Bian’s mother left; the door closed softly. Bian Yingning spun in her chair. Outside, plum blossoms bloomed brightly under the streetlights, like her. She breathed on the window; fog appeared.

People fear and worry, so they turn to religion… but can religion really alleviate loneliness?

Bian Yingning turned back to her documents.

Behind her, the words “Shang Qinghui” slowly disappeared with the fog.

The fog could dissipate, but the name etched in her heart couldn’t be erased.