Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

Emily slowed down when the dormitory building came into view.

The car headlights shone on the oak tree in front of the building, illuminating the rough texture of its bark.

She parked in her usual spot—the closest parking space to the entrance. It was empty, as if someone had reserved it there.

The car was turned off. The engine vibration disappeared, and the cabin suddenly became very quiet, with only the indicator lights on the dashboard still lit up, emitting a faint glow in the darkened cabin.

Emily's hands were still on the steering wheel, her thumb lightly rubbing against the leather.

"Will you go again next time?"

Lin Yuan turned his head.

"Next Saturday," Emily said, her gaze still fixed on the oak tree in front of the windshield, "the relief station is still short-staffed. And—"

She paused for a moment.

"That old man asked about cookies."

Lin Yuan looked at her. The light from the watch face shone on her face, and the anger and suppressed rage in her dark eyes were gone, replaced by a quiet, slightly weary seriousness.

It's not naivety, it's the kind of earnestness that comes from being hit by reality and then regaining one's footing.

"OK."

"Then I'll pick you up at 7:50."

"it is good."

Lin Yuan opened the car door. The March evening breeze from South Carolina blew in, carrying the mixed scents of grass and exhaust fumes. In the distance, rows of windows in the student dormitories were lit up, and someone was playing music; the bass notes came through the walls, becoming a blurry vibration.

He took two steps toward the dormitory building.

"Lin Yuan".

He turned around.

Emily rolled down the car window and rested her arm on the window frame. The wind ruffled the stray hairs on her forehead, and she casually tucked one behind her ear, a movement she had done hundreds of times.

"That slap," she looked at his right hand, "does your hand hurt?"

Lin Yuan paused for a moment, then looked down at his right hand. His palm still felt slightly numb, a tingling sensation spreading from the base of his palm to his fingertips.

It wasn't pain, but a lingering sensation, like a completed action still remaining on the skin.

"...A little."

Emily's lips twitched slightly. It wasn't a smile, but it wasn't a frown either; it was an arc somewhere in between—the corners of her mouth turned up a little, but not to the point of being a smile, like the first crack in the surface of a river in winter.

"Good night."

The car window rolled up. The white Toyota turned around, its taillights appearing as two red dots in the night.

As the car passed under the streetlights, its red taillights blended with the orange streetlights, casting a warm glow on the car before it turned a corner and disappeared at the end of the road.

Lin Yuan stood at the entrance of the dormitory building, watching the two red dots disappear. The oak leaves rustled in the wind.

He looked down at his right hand again; his palm was still hot.

He clenched his fist, turned around, and went upstairs.

-----------------

When I pushed open the dormitory door, the system panel flashed.

The side quest "Volunteer Journey" has been completed. Rewards: Cooking Experience +100, Random Ingredient Pack x1.

[Note: Emily Wayne's favorability towards you has slightly increased.]

Lin Yuan stood at the door, stared at the note for two seconds, and then turned off the panel.

He went into the house.

Matt was sprawled on the sofa. The TV was on, showing a replay of a game match, the commentator's voice fast and rapid.

He had a freshly opened bag of potato chips on his lap, seasoning powder on his fingers, and two empty cans and a half-eaten box of chicken nuggets on the coffee table.

His physical appearance is difficult to describe in words—it's somewhere between "lying down" and "flowing."

"You're back?" He asked without turning his head. "How was it?"

"good."

"Did my sister cause you any trouble?"

Lin Yuan thought for a moment. He remembered Emily squatting in front of Zoe, her knuckles turning white as she placed her hands on the steering wheel, and how she rolled down the car window to ask him if his hands hurt.

"no."

"That's good." Matt nodded in satisfaction, popped a potato chip into his mouth, and crunched it loudly. "Oh, by the way, I bought the Wagyu beef; it's in the fridge. Shall we cook it tomorrow?"

Lin Yuan sat down next to him, leaning back on the sofa and staring at the ceiling. There was a water stain in the corner of the ceiling, shaped like a bird with outstretched wings. He stared at it for a long time.

"Do."

"And that braised beef—"

Let's do it together.

Matt sprang up from the sofa. The bag of chips nearly tipped over, and he frantically caught it, his movements so nimble they were completely out of character for him.

"Really? You're doing both?"

"Um."

"Bro." Matt's expression was almost pious. He put down the bag of chips, clasped his hands together as if performing some kind of sacred ritual, and asked, "Did something good happen to you today?"

Lin Yuan didn't answer. He closed his eyes, his right palm still slightly warm, as if it still retained the warmth of some kind of touch.

It's neither a good thing nor a bad thing.

It was just one thing. One thing he did.

"I just want to do it."

The game commentary on TV hummed on, and the smell of potato chips and the sweetness of energy drinks mingled in the air, creating a unique Matt Wayne-esque indoor fragrance.

Lin Yuan opened his eyes, stood up, and walked towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Matt called from behind.

"Marinated meat." Lin Yuan opened the refrigerator door. Two Wagyu sirloin steaks lay side by side in the refrigerator compartment, their marbling as even as marble. The oxtail was wrapped in plastic wrap, and scallions and ginger were placed in a container next to it. Matt had really bought everything this time. "We'll eat tomorrow."

"We'll eat tomorrow!" Matt repeated on the sofa, his tone like a slogan.

Lin Yuan pulled a kitchen knife from the knife rack and began to process the beef.

There was a soft, rustling sound as the blade sliced ​​through the fat. His hand was steady, just as steady as when he was forging knives in the workshop. The chunks of meat turned in his hands, the blade following the grain, each cut precise and controlled.

The kitchen light cast a warm yellow glow on the countertop. Outside the window, the oak tree swayed in the wind, its shadow flickering on the glass.

Lin Yuan arranged the sliced ​​beef into a bowl and sprinkled on the seasonings. He pinched salt between his fingers and rubbed it evenly over every inch of the cut surface. Then he washed his hands, put the bowl in the refrigerator, and closed the refrigerator door.

Underneath the fridge magnet was a sticky note with a picture of Ma Tei—"Wagyu beef, sirloin, oxtail, scallions, ginger." The checkmarks for the scallions and ginger were in darker ink than the others, probably because he added them after confirming he had actually bought everything.

Lin Yuan glanced at the sticky note for two seconds, then turned off the kitchen light.

For the next week, Lin Yuan spent almost all his spare time in the workshop.

Robert left the key with him, saying that he would be going home at 4:30 in the afternoon anyway, and the workshop would just sit empty.

He said it casually, but Lin Yuan knew that he was the only student in the entire Materials Science and Engineering Department who had this key.