Do You Think I’m Not Good Enough for You?

The afternoon street was bustling with people coming and going.

A handsome young man in a white T-shirt walked side by side with a girl in a pale blue dress, their hands intertwined.

Sang Jiuning’s mind was already in a mess.

She’d originally wanted to make him angry, make him think she was a handful, and then smoothly bring up breaking up.
So how was it that now… it felt like she was the one being unreasonable?

When they reached the milk tea shop, Senior Song Zhenmeng spotted Sang Jiuning and greeted her warmly:
“Ningning, you’re here!
Oh, and who’s this—”

Senior Song’s gaze landed on Wen Zhaoci, whose hand was still holding Sang Jiuning’s, and her eyes lit up instantly.

It was only then that Sang Jiuning realized her hand had been in Wen Zhaoci’s grasp this whole time.
Her heart gave a jolt.
‘Oh no—how did I end up holding hands with him?’

This was her first relationship in either lifetime.
If she hadn’t known she’d transmigrated into a book, she never would’ve had the nerve to try and steal away the female lead’s devoted suitor.

She casually pulled her hand free and smiled at Senior Song:
“Hello, Senior.
This is… my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?
So he’s the one—” Senior Song drew out the syllable meaningfully, giving Sang Jiuning a knowing wink.
“Alright then, go get changed into your uniform.
We’ve got quite a few customers today, and we’re short-staffed.”

“Okay, Senior.” Sang Jiuning felt as though she’d been granted a reprieve.
She quickly grabbed her uniform and headed to the back room.

When she came out in her work attire, she found Wen Zhaoci still standing in the same spot.

Sang Jiuning glanced at the stray looks being cast their way, and that familiar urge to “make trouble” stirred again.

She said flatly:
“You should head back.”

Wen Zhaoci saw her emerge and said:
“I’ll have one of your shop’s signature milk teas.
Less sugar, less ice.”

His gaze settled on her, carrying a hint of subtle warmth.
“I’ll wait until you’re off work and walk you back.”

Sang Jiuning’s heart tightened.
‘This guy—why doesn’t he follow the script?
Weren’t we supposed to keep our distance and only see each other once a week?’

She was about to retort when Senior Song Zhenmeng cut in.

“Oh, just stay and help out!
Look at Ningning—she can’t handle it all by herself.” Senior Song said with a beaming smile, her eyes darting between the two of them.
“It’s a great chance for you to experience your girlfriend’s daily work life.
How meaningful is that?”

Sang Jiuning wanted to refuse, but the words died in her throat.

She couldn’t very well say right in front of her senior, ‘We just agreed to keep our distance,’ could she?
That would be too awkward.

Wen Zhaoci shook his head:
“No, I still have work to handle.
I’ll just sit over there and wait for her.”

He found a seat by the window, sat down, and pulled out his laptop, seeming ready to start working.

Sang Jiuning watched him work quietly, her feelings complicated.

‘He’s just… not leaving?
He’s going to wait here until my shift ends?’

And so, under Sang Jiuning’s exasperated gaze, Wen Zhaoci “openly and boldly” planted himself in the milk tea shop.

Sang Jiuning bustled about behind the counter, sneaking occasional glances at Wen Zhaoci.

His fingers were long and slender, and even the way he typed looked exceptionally elegant.

Occasionally, girls would come in to buy milk tea and, upon seeing him, couldn’t help blushing.
The bolder ones even tried to strike up a conversation.
But he would only respond with polite detachment—”My girlfriend’s at the counter”—before glancing back toward the bar.

Sang Jiuning felt a mix of awkwardness and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Her original plan had been to make Wen Zhaoci find her troublesome and leave on his own.
But now, not only had he stayed, he’d become the shop’s “mascot”—and a popular one at that.
Quite a few girls passing by outside spotted him sitting there and came in to buy a drink.

As a direct result, Sang Jiuning spent an incredibly busy afternoon.

At one point, several bold girls pretended to place orders while secretly asking Sang Jiuning about Wen Zhaoci.
She brushed them off with vague answers.

Internally, though, she was grumbling:
‘This guy is a walking trouble magnet!’

“Ningning, is that ‘Taro Ball Bobo Milk Green’ ready yet?
The customer’s waiting!” Senior Song’s voice snapped Sang Jiuning back to reality.

“Oh, coming right up!” Sang Jiuning quickly handed over the finished drink, while muttering inwardly:
‘Wen Zhaoci, what exactly are you trying to do?’

He just sat there quietly, looking perfectly content, as if all was right with the world.

Over the next few hours, Sang Jiuning frantically attended to customers while sneaking peeks at Wen Zhaoci.

He remained seated the entire time, occasionally lifting his gaze to meet hers.
When their eyes met, he’d give her a small smile, then lower his head and continue working.

His presence was like a stabilizing anchor.
He hadn’t done anything at all, yet she inexplicably felt more settled—even her frantic pace smoothed out considerably.

At six o’clock, the other part-time girl arrived.

Sang Jiuning was sore all over and was about to say goodbye to Senior Song when Wen Zhaoci had already closed his laptop and stood up, walking over.

“Done for the day?” he asked.

“Mm.” Sang Jiuning nodded, took off her uniform, and grabbed her small crossbody bag.

“Let’s go eat together, then I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” Wen Zhaoci said naturally.

“No thanks, I can manage on my own—” Sang Jiuning refused out of habit.

“I’ve booked a restaurant.
It’s really hard to get a table there.
It’d be a waste not to go.” Wen Zhaoci cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument, yet carrying a gentleness that was hard to refuse.

Sang Jiuning looked into his earnest eyes and swallowed her refusal.

‘Why can’t this guy just follow the script?’

She’d been so cold to him—how could he not be the least bit upset?

Still, she had to admit she was tempted by the prospect of a restaurant that was hard to book.
If the male lead had chosen it, it couldn’t be anything less than excellent.
She wanted to go.
She’d never experienced the kind of establishments the wealthy frequented.

The two walked side by side back toward the dorms, the setting sun stretching their shadows long across the ground.

This time, Wen Zhaoci naturally took her hand and walked beside her.

“Were you tired today?” he asked suddenly.

“It was fine.” Sang Jiuning’s voice remained flat.

“Working at the milk tea shop—it’s pretty exhausting, isn’t it?” Wen Zhaoci pressed.

“Not really.
I’m used to it.” Sang Jiuning kept her head down, kicking at a small pebble on the roadside.

Wen Zhaoci was silent for a moment, then said:
“If you’re short on money, you can tell me.”

Sang Jiuning looked up at him:
“I’m not short on money!
I just… just—” paying off my credit card.

Should she act angry now?
Make a scene?
Ask him if he thought working at a milk tea shop was beneath him, or if he thought she needed his charity—and then break up?

So she put on a huffy performance:
“What do you mean by that?”

Sang Jiuning abruptly pulled her hand back, her cheeks flushed—whether from anger or something else, she wasn’t sure.
“Do you think working at a milk tea shop is beneath you?
Do you think I don’t measure up to your status?
Or do you think I’m poor and need your handouts?”

She deliberately raised her voice a few notches, her tone carrying a mix of hurt and defiance, her eyes wide like an indignant little kitten puffing up its fur.