As a fellow auxiliary-type Spirit Master, Oscar wouldn't face the sa problems as others. Furthermore, he knew that Ning Rongrong ca from the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan, the ho of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda martial soul, which ant she was undoubtedly part of the clan's core bloodline. Her position in the clan was undoubtedly high.
If he could win her favor, he would have the backing of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan—a dream for any auxiliary-type Spirit Master. The clan was a sanctuary for auxiliary-type soul masters, not only housing those with the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda martial soul but also attracting top-tier auxiliary martial souls from all over. It was the most comprehensive and renowned source of knowledge on auxiliary-type cultivation in the world.
Though Oscar was currently at Shrek Academy, he knew that the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan would be the best opportunity for his future.
To Oscar, Ning Rongrong was the perfect partner.
And yet, it all seed impossible now.
There was only one reason—he was too late.
Oscar couldn't bla Zhao Ming; after all, no girl belongs to anyone from the start. It all ca down to personal ability.
"Hey, man, what are you thinking about?" Zhao Ming asked as he watched Oscar's expression shift between bitterness, hope, and disappointnt.
"Nothing." Oscar shook his head firmly.
"And what about that chicken soup?" Zhao Ming asked casually.
To Oscar, it sounded like Zhao Ming was accusing him. After all, Zhao Ming was Ning Rongrong's boyfriend, and here he was bringing food to her. If it had been anyone else, he might have received a slap by now.
Luckily, Zhao Ming had a good temper, or things could have turned ugly. Oscar ntally sighed with relief.
"I don't need it anymore," Oscar said hurriedly, treating the pot of chicken soup like a hot potato he couldn't wait to get rid of.
"You're really going to throw away such fragrant soup? Why? You should give it to Rongrong." Zhao Ming frowned.
Seeing Zhao Ming's expression, Oscar assud he was angry. "I really don't need it. I'll go throw it away right now," he said quickly, moving toward the trash bin outside the dorm.
"What's the point of throwing it away? You're so strange. If you don't want it, I'll take it," Zhao Ming said, grabbing Oscar's arm to stop him from wasting the soup.
Seeing that Zhao Ming wanted the soup, Oscar eagerly handed it over and, after confirming that Zhao Ming wasn't upset, breathed a sigh of relief.
"Rongrong must be hungry after running so much. I'll take this to her," Zhao Ming said, opening the pot. The rich aroma of chicken filled the air, and Zhao Ming spotted a few dicinal herbs inside. He didn't know much about herbal dicine, but he could tell these were nourishing ingredients.
"Wait, what did you just say? Rongrong?" Oscar suddenly felt sothing wasn't right.
That's right, Rongrong had been running around the village, just like him. With her weaker physique, she should have finished much later than he did. Could it be that Rongrong had only just returned?
And after all that running, she wouldn't have the energy to do anything with Zhao Ming, right?
"Rongrong just got back, and I carried her here. I'm exhausted," Zhao Ming added just in ti.
Hearing this, Oscar's body trembled.
Now he understood why Zhao Ming was so sweaty—he had been carrying Rongrong.
Oscar let out a sigh of relief.
"What's the matter, brother? You didn't think I was doing sothing inappropriate with Rongrong, did you?" Zhao Ming asked, holding the pot of chicken soup, his face turning serious.
"No, of course not!" Oscar replied with an awkward smile.
"Good. I thought that's what you were thinking. Although I, Zhao Ming, am no saint, Rongrong is a well-bred young lady, not the type for such behavior," Zhao Ming said, his tone firm.
"Don't worry, brother. I know what kind of person you are, and I'd never doubt Rongrong's character," Oscar said, laughing as he patted Zhao Ming on the shoulder.
"That's good. I'll take this soup to Rongrong," Zhao Ming said, carrying the pot toward the girls' dormitory.
Oscar stood there, watching Zhao Ming head toward the dorm, a smile plastered on his face.
But as soon as Zhao Ming disappeared from view, Oscar's face darkened. His expression grew more and more bitter.
He had misjudged the situation. There was no improper relationship between Rongrong and Zhao Ming, after all. But the future? That was another story.
The thought of his carefully prepared chicken soup being delivered to Ning Rongrong by Zhao Ming made Oscar want to cry.
He had spent the entire day running at full strength, finishing the task a quarter faster than usual just so he could prepare this soup for Rongrong.
And now, the soup he worked so hard to make was gone. Worse yet, had he just unintentionally helped the enemy?
Oscar felt bitter, but he couldn't bla anyone else.
The misunderstanding had been entirely his fault, and he had given the soup to Zhao Ming willingly. Zhao Ming hadn't done anything wrong.
"Forget it. As long as Rongrong's still single, there's still a chance," Oscar told himself as he headed back to his dorm. After running twenty laps, he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.
Inside the girls' dormitory, Ning Rongrong wasn't in the room. She was most likely still in the shower.
Zhao Ming didn't linger. He set the chicken soup on her table and quietly left.
Not long after Zhao Ming left, Ning Rongrong ca out of the bathroom, towel-drying her damp hair, only to see the pot of chicken soup on her desk. Tired and hungry from running, the aroma of the soup made her mouth water.
But just as she was about to start eating, sothing ca to her mind. Limping slightly, she walked outside.
Outside, Zhao Ming was slowly walking away.
Watching his retreating figure, all the anger and resentnt Ning Rongrong had felt toward Zhao Ming dissipated.
A sense of sweetness filled her heart.
Back at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan, many people had brought her gifts. But those people always made a big deal about how much effort they had put into preparing the gifts, seeking her gratitude and recognition.
But Zhao Ming wasn't like that.
He hadn't said a single word.
****
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