The Legendary Supernatural Student

At dinner, a certain golden-haired queen finally emerged from the study, her expression even more haggard than when they had last seen her at noon. 

"Miss Trull, is there anything we can do to assist you?" Xiang Ri couldn't help but ask as he sat at the opulent dining table, though his question earned him a sharp kick under the table from the woman seated across from him—the queen's secretary. 

"No, thank you, Mr. Xiang," the queen replied with a grateful glance, only to fall back into thought as she frowned at the caviar on her plate, seemingly troubled by some unsolvable dilemma. 

Xiang Ri frowned as well, though not because of the secretary's surreptitious kick. His frown was directed at the caviar, albeit for a different reason. Unlike the queen, he harbored no taste for the delicacy, and he found himself growing increasingly resentful of the tedious etiquette that accompanied French dining. 

In France, a typical French meal would follow this sequence: 1. Appetizers, 2. Soup or seafood salads, 3. Sorbet, 4. Main course, 5. Leafy salads, 6. Cheese platter, 7. Desserts, and 8. Coffee or tea. 

How could Xiang Ri not be exasperated by such elaborate rituals? In his view, they should simply serve the main course right away, and if that wasn't sufficient, provide extra portions. The rest of the courses, often consisting of soups and greens, reminded him of the leftovers used to feed pigs—half-sunken vegetable scraps floating in broth. 

Yet, voicing such complaints was out of the question. As their hostess, the queen herself was partaking of the same meal. How could he bring himself to grumble? 

Glancing disdainfully at the champagne before him, he reflected that it was supposed to pair perfectly with the caviar, heightening the appetite. Instead, he found the combination utterly unappetizing. He began to long for the casual meal he had enjoyed at a rotund chef's modest eatery earlier that afternoon—a place unburdened by such rigid conventions, where he had eaten to his heart's content. 

Such indulgence, however, was clearly out of the question here. With the main course yet to be served, and mindful of the queen's solemn deliberations, he had no choice but to restrain himself. 

"Why aren't you eating?" Fang Yingying asked, dabbing at nonexistent caviar crumbs with her white napkin as she cast a puzzled glance at him. 

"Shh," Xiang Ri hushed her, gesturing toward the queen, who sat at the head of the table, engrossed in her thoughts. "Keep your voice down. It's not that I don't want to eat—it's that I simply can't stomach this." 

Seeing how attentive he was to the queen, Fang Yingying shot him a dissatisfied glare and delivered another kick under the table, though she lowered her voice. "Could you stop acting so nauseatingly sycophantic? It's ruining my appetite too." 

"When will they serve the main course? I'm starving," Xiang Ri sighed. 

Despite the table's considerable length, the queen sat far enough away—several meters—to prevent her from overhearing their conversation, provided they kept their voices low. Fang Yingying, on the other hand, could hear every word, and Xiang Ri took full advantage of this. 

"Serves you right if you starve," Fang Yingying scoffed, pouring herself a glass of champagne. Just as she was about to take a sip, she froze, startled by Xiang Ri's suggestive comment. 

"You're drinking champagne? Doesn't its color remind you of a certain... liquid?" 

"Ugh!" Fang Yingying clamped a hand over her mouth, hastily pushing the glass as far from herself as possible. A surge of anger flared within her—she felt an overwhelming urge to leap across the table and pummel him. However, with the queen present, she restrained herself, settling for a series of frustrated kicks under the table. Xiang Ri, having anticipated her reaction, had already moved his legs out of reach. 

"Why are you gagging?" he asked innocently, feigning surprise while his eyes gleamed with mischievous delight. "I was merely noting that champagne has the same color as pure water. Why the overreaction?" 

Grinding her teeth, Fang Yingying seethed. "Just you wait. Back in the room, you'll regret this!" 

"Don't be like that, Yingying…" Xiang Ri quickly adopted a contrite expression, gesturing toward the caviar. "Come on, let's eat. Take it as my apology." Then, after a brief pause, he added with feigned curiosity, "Although, I can't help but think the color of this caviar is..." 

"Enough!" Fang Yingying's exasperation made her voice rise slightly, startling the queen out of her thoughts. 

"Miss Fang, is something the matter?" the queen inquired. 

"No, nothing at all," Fang Yingying replied hastily, her eyes brimming with murderous intent as she glared at Xiang Ri. 

The queen gave a faint "Oh" before resuming her contemplation. 

"Xiang Ri, don't say I didn't warn you. If you make another joke like that, don't expect me to remain friends with you," Fang Yingying said icily. 

"Alright, alright, I'll stop…" Xiang Ri muttered, deciding it was wise to hold his tongue. 

At last, the servants brought out the main course—a traditional French dish of pan-seared foie gras.

The glistening foie gras, drizzled with a vibrant crimson sauce and faintly imbued with the fragrance of dried figs lingering in the air, instantly stirred Xiang Ri's appetite. Grasping his fork, he forwent the knife entirely, spearing a slice and bringing it directly to his mouth without a second thought. 

Fang Yingying frowned deeply at the sight. Was this man the reincarnation of Pigsy? A quick glance at the golden-haired queen at the head of the table assured her that the hostess remained lost in thought, oblivious to the spectacle. Relieved, Fang Yingying's mood lightened slightly, though her appetite for the main course had entirely vanished. She settled for sipping her onion soup instead. 

In mere moments, several slices of foie gras had disappeared into Xiang Ri's stomach. Yet, this only served to whet his appetite, leaving him far from satiated. Reaching for another piece, he was dismayed to find the plate empty, save for a few scattered dried figs and the remnants of the sauce. Disappointed, he muttered inwardly, *That's it? How stingy! Just this afternoon, I polished off two whole roasted lamb legs.* 

Had Xiang Ri known the arduous process behind the creation of foie gras, he might have refrained from calling their hostess "stingy." As one of the world's most exquisite delicacies, foie gras owes its exceptional quality to a meticulous and labor-intensive process. 

For the first 14 weeks after hatching, geese are reared outdoors, allowing them to thrive in a natural environment and develop robust immunity. After this period, they undergo a four-week regimen of thrice-daily feedings with specially prepared corn. To prevent stress or fatalities during this forced-feeding process, each goose is fed individually while being gently stroked or serenaded with music to aid their digestion and ease their nerves. The sheer amount of human effort involved in this process contributes significantly to the exorbitant cost of foie gras. 

"Here, take it!" Fang Yingying, noticing Xiang Ri's ravenous gaze fixed on her untouched foie gras, thrust her plate toward him. 

"How could I possibly accept this?" Xiang Ri responded with a sheepish grin, though his hands betrayed no such hesitation, swiftly taking the plate. Without so much as a word of thanks, he speared another slice and devoured it with gusto. 

"You—" Fang Yingying's irritation flared anew. Had she known this would happen, she would have tossed the dish rather than offer it to him. 

By the end of the meal, Xiang Ri had barely managed to reach half-satisfaction, deeming it one of the most frustrating dinners he had ever endured. 

Fang Yingying, on the other hand, left the table fuming. Aside from swallowing her anger, she failed to discern what was so "fine" about French cuisine. 

As for the golden-haired queen, after uttering a few polite remarks once the meal concluded, she vanished back into her study. It was evident that some pressing issue weighed heavily on her, as she had scarcely touched her plate throughout the entire dinner, her time consumed by furrowed contemplation. 

From this, it became apparent to both Xiang Ri and Fang Yingying that if not for their presence as "guests," the queen likely wouldn't have made an appearance at the dining table at all. 

"Xiang Ri, you're sleeping on the couch tonight!" The moment they entered the room, Secretary Fang exploded, venting all the frustration she had bottled up during dinner.

"You sleep on the couch, and I'll take the bed—there's no need for you to remind me; I already knew that!" Xiang Ri's face was the picture of innocence as he looked at the woman in front of him, who was on the verge of losing her temper. 

"Listen carefully—I'm the one sleeping in the bed, and *you* are sleeping on the couch!" Fang Yingying nearly lunged forward to kick him. 

"That doesn't make any sense," Xiang Ri protested. "We agreed that we'd share the bed—each taking half. If the man crosses the line, he gets hit; if the woman crosses, she gets kissed. That's what we discussed, wasn't it?" 

"Who made such an agreement with you?!" Fang Yingying fumed. This man had such audacious fantasies! If he crossed the line, getting hit was no big deal—his thick skin would make it hurt the hitter more than him. But if she crossed, she'd have to suffer his advances. Where in the world was there such an unfair deal? 

"Anyway, I've already decided," she declared. "If you dare climb into the bed later... just try it and see what happens!" 

"Well, if that's how it is, I suppose I have no choice but to..." Xiang Ri drawled deliberately, only to stop short when he noticed the icy glare from his secretary. With a helpless sigh, he concluded, "…resign myself to the couch." 

"At least you know your place!" Fang Yingying huffed with satisfaction, letting out a smug hum as she turned toward the bed to prepare it for sleep. 

Before she could proceed, Xiang Ri suddenly called out to her. "By the way, I'm heading out for a bit. Do you need me to bring anything back for you?" 

"You're going out? At this hour?" Fang Yingying turned to him, frowning. "What for?" 

"I didn't eat enough at dinner. I'm going to grab something to fill my stomach. Do you want anything?" His expression remained casual. 

"All this just for food?" Fang Yingying gave him a look one might reserve for a reincarnated Pigsy. She waved her hand dismissively. "Forget it. Go if you want. I don't need anything. But don't take too long." 

"No promises," Xiang Ri replied hesitantly. 

"How could it take so long to buy food?" Fang Yingying frowned further. 

With a sly grin, Xiang Ri leaned closer. "Well, the thing is... it'd be a shame to come all the way to France without indulging in a little romance, don't you think?" 

"You're not thinking of sneaking into the Louvre at night, are you?" Fang Yingying's brows furrowed even deeper. 

"Of course not! I was thinking more along the lines of… exploring certain unique establishments, like the red-light district..." 

"What?!" Fang Yingying's anger flared instantly. So his true intention wasn't to eat but to entertain some indecent idea. "Why don't you just admit you want to visit a prostitute—" She abruptly stopped herself, realizing how crude the words sounded when strung together. 

Xiang Ri's expression remained unfazed. "You know, a man like me, full of vigor and vitality, might run into health problems if I suppress myself for too long. So—" 

"So get out!" Fang Yingying stormed over and gave him a furious kick, shoving him out the door. "Don't bother coming back tonight. I'll lock the door, and you can just die outside for all I care!" 

As the door slammed shut behind him, Xiang Ri rubbed his nose with a bitter smile. Without resorting to this tactic, slipping out without arousing suspicion would have been nearly impossible.