Chapter Nineteen: The Ten Rules and the System of Rewards and Punishments

The three of them entered the room together. Taking in the decor, Yang Le couldn't help but feel there was a distinct feminine touch to it. The place was neat and tidy. Yang Le took a look in the kitchen as well; all the necessary cookware was present, but everything appeared to be brand new. Many items were still in their packaging, meticulously arranged.

“Are you planning to cook for yourselves?” Yang Le asked the two of them, thinking that nowadays, most young women didn’t really know how to cook.

“We don’t know how to cook at all. We just bought these as a precaution, hoping the new roommate might know how. But looking at your delicate appearance, I doubt you do either. I guess these things will just gather dust,” Fang Jing remarked, convinced that someone who looked like Yang Le probably wouldn’t know how to cook.

Shen Zixuan, on the other hand, thought Yang Le might actually be able to cook. He’d said he came from a poor background, and it’s often said that children from impoverished families grow up quickly. If that was true, cooking should be second nature to him. Nevertheless, she kept her thoughts to herself.

“Don’t underestimate me—I can cook. But I don’t have time today. Once I move in tomorrow, I’ll make a proper meal,” Yang Le responded confidently. Cooking was a skill he possessed, so he planned to show it off after moving in.

“No need to wait. You can move in right away—just bring your bags. If you can really cook as you say, we’ll even waive your rent!” Fang Jing declared, her tone both cheerful and generous.

“Waive my rent? There must be some other conditions, right?” Yang Le knew there was no such thing as a free lunch, so he decided to hear her out before agreeing.

“Yang Le, why don’t we show you the bedroom first?” Shen Zixuan interjected, leading the way ahead.

There were three bedrooms in total. Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan’s rooms were side by side, while Yang Le’s was directly opposite theirs. Shen Zixuan opened the door, Yang Le following close behind. The moment he saw the room, he was taken aback. Was this not one of their rooms? The overwhelming feminine vibe, the entirely pink decor—it was everywhere.

The pillows, quilt, and sheets were all pink. The curtains were pink. Even the ceiling decorations were pink.

Had Shen Zixuan led him to the wrong room? It looked more like it belonged to one of them.

“This is your room. Not bad, right?” Fang Jing asked with a grin.

All three rooms were similarly decorated. The reason Yang Le’s looked just like Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan’s was that they had designed it themselves. They’d initially hoped a woman would join them as a roommate, but before any female applicants called, Yang Le had already decided to move in.

“This room is… acceptable, I suppose,” Yang Le replied. Though he found the decor excessively feminine, he didn’t mind living here. His standards were simple: as long as the place was warm in winter and cool in summer, the rest didn’t matter.

“So, are you moving in tonight? Here’s the contract—take a look,” Fang Jing said, pulling out four copies from her bag. She handed two to Yang Le for signing, and threw the other two straight into the trash.

Yang Le read the contract carefully.

There were ten rules in total:

First: No smoking in the rooms. (Serious offenders will be kicked out.)

Second: No wearing overly revealing clothing. (Unless inside your own room, with the door locked.)

Third: Must respond immediately when needed.

Fourth: No staring at your roommates for more than five seconds.

Fifth: No bringing friends over. (Including girlfriends, unless approved by the other roommates.)

Sixth: No playing video games in front of your roommates.

Seventh: No swearing.

Eighth: No telling dirty jokes or making suggestive remarks.

Ninth: No using the bathroom for more than five minutes. (To prevent “military exercises” in the bathroom.)

Tenth: To be determined.

By the time Yang Le got to the ninth rule, he almost laughed, but managed to hold it in.

The rent was five thousand a month.

Labor could earn deductions:

Can cook: minus one thousand.

Washing dishes: minus one thousand.

Can do laundry: minus one thousand.

Sweeping and mopping daily: minus one thousand.

Taking out the garbage daily: minus one thousand.

Rewards always come with penalties:

Playing video games in the room: fine of two thousand.

Swearing: fine of two thousand.

Failing to respond when called: fine of two thousand.

Staring at a roommate for more than five seconds: fine of five thousand.

Making suggestive remarks: fine of five thousand.

Using the bathroom for over five minutes: fine of ten thousand.

After reading the reward and penalty system, Yang Le felt it was a bit of a trap. Why were the rewards capped at a thousand, while the fines started at two thousand and went as high as ten thousand? It seemed entirely unreasonable. Still, Yang Le decided to jump into the trap—after all, he had money and indulged himself.

Finishing the contract, Yang Le timidly asked, “The time limit in rule nine seems a bit short. Can it be extended?”

Fang Jing replied with a generous air, “Since we get along, I’ll give you an extra minute.”

“Three minutes—let’s make it three,” Yang Le bargained, worried five minutes wouldn’t be enough for a shower. Just getting undressed might take half a minute, washing his hair a minute, leaving only four and a half for the rest. Even six minutes seemed tight, so he tried to win another minute, offering three so Fang Jing could negotiate down.

“Two minutes extra at most—no room for negotiation. If you insist on three, I’ll cancel the two I just granted,” Fang Jing warned, though she was smiling as she spoke.

Yang Le accepted gracefully. Seven minutes might still be tight, but he could manage.

He swiftly signed the contract. Afterward, he added Fang Jing on WeChat and transferred five thousand yuan to her. Adding her on WeChat was to make it easier for him to receive rewards and pay fines in the future.

Since he didn’t need to move anything, Yang Le decided to stay the night and, having settled in, figured he might as well cook dinner.

“I’ll go buy some groceries. I’ll start cooking tonight,” Yang Le said, thinking that eating out was no different, and since his skills were decent, he might as well cook himself.

“I’ll come too! Zixuan, you want to join us?” Fang Jing piped up, eager to go. She’d never been grocery shopping before and was curious about the experience.

“I’ll come along,” Shen Zixuan replied, a bit reluctantly, though inwardly she was also looking forward to it—she’d never shopped for groceries either.

There was a small market in the neighborhood.

At the market, Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan wandered about, looking around with curiosity.

“What do you want to eat?” Yang Le asked, pointing at the vegetables.

“I want greens,” Fang Jing answered, mindful of her weight.

“I want shredded potatoes,” Shen Zixuan said, also preferring something light.

Hearing their choices, Yang Le silently chanted to himself, “Amitabha, how virtuous! Both of you shun meat.”

“Neither of you eat meat?” he asked, just to be sure.

Both shook their heads emphatically.

Yang Le bought a few small potatoes, some tomatoes, eggs, and a bunch of greens. Of course, he also bought a single pork rib—since the two girls weren’t eating meat, one rib was enough for himself.

Four dishes would suffice, he thought.

He also bought rice, cooking oil, soy sauce, vinegar, cigarettes, and some rock sugar, intending to make sweet-and-sour ribs.

On the way back, Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan carried nothing. The burden fell entirely on Yang Le—not only were his hands full, he also had a bag of rice slung over his shoulder.

“Xiao Yang, now that’s what a man is!” Fang Jing teased, patting his free shoulder with a laugh.

It wasn’t that Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan were unwilling to help; they simply wanted to test his limits. Still, they hadn’t expected Yang Le to be so resilient.

Back home, Yang Le got to work washing, cutting, and preparing the food. Meanwhile, Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan lounged on the sofa in the living room, playing on their phones.

Yang Le moved methodically in the kitchen, first preparing the main dish: sweet-and-sour ribs, which he set on the dining table.

The aroma drew Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan into the dining room.

Unable to resist, Fang Jing went to the kitchen, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and, still mindful of her diet, picked up a small piece of rib to taste.

The result: rich but not greasy, fragrant and crispy, perfectly balanced between salty and sweet.

In a word—delicious!

“This is amazing! Want to try one?” Fang Jing offered, holding out another piece to Shen Zixuan.

“I’ll pass,” Shen Zixuan managed to resist.

Seeing her refusal, Fang Jing popped the rib into her own mouth, savoring every bite.

Watching her, Shen Zixuan couldn’t hold back any longer. She snatched the chopsticks and took a piece for herself.

Chewing, she thought to herself, “This is truly wonderful.”

Just then, Yang Le finished stir-frying tomatoes with eggs and brought the dish in. Hearing him enter, the two girls quickly pressed their lips together, pretending to be engrossed in their phones.

Yang Le didn’t expose them. He placed the stir-fried eggs and tomatoes on the table, smiled at the two of them, and returned to the kitchen to prepare more dishes.

He understood—it had been a long afternoon walking, and hunger was only natural.

Yet as he brought out each new dish, he couldn’t help but wonder how much more Fang Jing and Shen Zixuan could pretend.