Chapter 7

*Feeding My Wife Comes First*
Zhu Yu felt utterly guilty.
Letting the princess go hungry—no different from the scumbag original.
Well—the scumbag probably never starved Her Highness.
Red ear tips flashed—Zhu Yu’s face burned—worse than forgetting to feed the cat.
Empty pockets—empty stomach—she hated owing people—fate kicking her from behind.
Fine—shame it is—feeding my wife comes first!
She rehearsed to the air—brave—then saw Helan—courage deflated.
Pinching wrist—“Helan sis—”
Helan looked her up and down.
Yesterday gray and bloodless—one night’s rest—youthful clarity showed.
Taller than Helan—two buttons open—collarbone—broad shoulders—narrow waist—ponytail—rakish.
Eyes still clear—shy smile.
Helan read people—still lazy: “Early—not work time yet.”
Grip wrist—“Can I borrow money? Pay back tonight with rent—”
One day acquaintance—awkward—“Free tutoring for Heming tonight—”
Helan laughed: “College kid—that personality—you’ll suffer out there.”
“Don’t sell labor cheap—you lower yourself—they’ll think you’re cheap.”
“Knowledge is precious.” Tapped head—wallet—“How much?”
Careful: “What’s daily pay around here?”
Helan saved them—housing—jobs—beyond any mentor.
“Light work—hundred plus—daily pay.”
“Harder?” Quick—“I can work hard.”
Alpha body—born for grind.
Helan checked terminal:
“Nutrient factory—one-eighty—six hours—shifts—overtime optional.”
“Bio sorting—two-seventy—eight hours—high hourly—but crazy-grass vaccine or don’t—bites aren’t worth it.”
Bio sorting? Eyes lit—bites—shrink—“Factory then—borrow fifty.”
Fifty coins—“Food here’s pricey—don’t get cheated.”
“Thanks!”
Empire and Federation mixed—old policies—border hate blurred—hybrids like her.
Terminal like old phones—star net—not full brain-computer.
Thousands for terminal—retreat—
No government here—beyond backwater—
Ha—poor joke—
Forced cheer—breakfast stall—twenty—for ten buns.
Machine buns—clone identical—cold—not memory’s steam buns.
Little meat—not Helan’s cooking.
Fine—world eats this—one soy milk—
Neon ad on tower—“Human feed.”
Uncomfortable—still cattle—but not literal feed—
Five yuan—full in minutes—
Didn’t look long—buns in coat—run back.
Princess eats first—leftovers lunch.
Home.
Bai Shuzhou bit—brow knit—swallowed hard.
Skin hard as plastic—filling not meat—fake flavor.
Humiliation food?
Soy milk—second bite.
Worse—masking something—frozen—industrial—gross—memory of black smoke stacks on border tour.
Zhu Yu elbows on table—bright eyes watching.
Beautiful eating—French meal with a bun.
Beauty is appetite—chew—cheek swell—happy just watching.
Stop—Zhu Yu looked away—wave—“Eat—plenty—”
“Eat more—heal—I’m learning spirit cycles—regular treatment—” small pride.
Under hot stare—third bite.
She knew food heals but—
“Not to taste?” Warm ask.
Princess and buns—humble—Helan meal ~seventy for two dishes—
Rub hands—vow four dishes one soup someday—
Hand paused mid-air.
Palace flash—arms from behind—“Not to taste?”
“Do you know how many in the empire starve?”
“One meal you waste—dozens of lives—Princess.”
“Throw it away? Waste? Swallow—like medicine.”
Finger on throat—hold—“Eat, Princess.”
Stomach revolt—mechanical swallow—stuck—etiquette no spitting—cover mouth—cough.
Pat back—dough out—tears at corners—
Eyes shut—shame tears—
Words stuck—blue depth she couldn’t read—
Lift bun—squeeze—“Bold bun—dares attack Princess.”
“I won’t!” Swatted away.
Bag flew—buns rolled—dust on white skin.
Stiff air.
Hate in cold eyes—Zhu Yu blank—such rage—
“Okay—don’t eat—”
Pick up buns—three-second rule—still edible—
“Last night’s place? Handmade—fresh veg—”
Pillow—shut eyes—shadow—tired and hungry—
Ice barrier—safe zone—
Rub hair—how cross without hurt—can’t leave her alone—
Loneliness kills.
And she’s hungry!
Silver hair looked dull—heartbreak—wish table of food—
Bad buns almost made princess cry!
Coins too few for CEO act—poorer than college month-end—
Used to give beggars—now wants beggars as seniors—
“Still hungry?”
Eyes closed—won’t speak—starve rather than beg—stomach betrayed—white face—red ears shame—
Imperial princess cannot—
Never beg for a bite!
“Eat something else?”
Squat by bed—like feeding proud cat—
Face inward—silver hair breath—voice soft—“psps” almost slipped—
No temper for beauty—
Legal wife for now—meat bun dog—whisper in head—
Didn’t throw buns—kind enough—
Turn—ears redder—she’d said it aloud—
SSS dragon princess—“psps.”
Death vision—torture plus psps—
Both hands out—“Hungry—not hungry.”
Hesitant—lashes—left—
Hungry.
Like orca watching human trick—forget anger—
“Last night’s place—yes—no—”
Yes.
“Meat or veg?”
Meat!
Firm thin lips—
Thin lips thin heart—need meat—“Beef noodle or egg custard with braised pork rice?”
Left—beef noodle.
“Yes! Bone-white soup—knife-cut noodles—green onion—hot gravy—beef—”
Bite lip—eyes bright—throat move—dry moon alive in her palm—
Clap—left hand chosen—small hope—
Thick noodles—extra extra beef!