Wang Qiqi reluctantly dragged herself out of bed when the alarm sounded. Today was officially the first day of work, and there were so many things to prepare. She decided to prepare lunch boxes, bento-style. Although ordering takeout was an option, Wang Qiqi had no intention of surviving solely on fast food for lunch.

Han Tao rolled over and noticed the space beside him was empty. He rubbed his eyes and saw that Qiqi was already up. He grabbed his phone to check the time. “It’s not even six yet, and you’re up?” Good heavens. Although Han Tao often stayed up late, once he fell asleep, he rarely woke before eight. Even though work started at nine, being late was still being late, and frankly, no one really cared as long as the tasks were done. Seeing Qiqi up so early felt jarring. Of course, he was also worried that his future wife would always wake up this early. Summer was manageable, but what about winter? Han Tao mused that Qiqi, having spent so many days mixing in the studio, seemed to have developed an aversion to sleeping in. This was not good news.

“Making lunch,” Wang Qiqi said, after fastening a button, she gave him a quick kiss and then headed out to start preparing breakfast. “You sleep a bit longer; I’ll wake you at eight.”

Han Tao really wanted to hold Qiqi back and tell her there was no need to make lunch boxes since the company covered meal expenses. But in the blink of an eye, Qiqi was already out of the room. He stared at the closed door for a long time before resigning himself to going back to sleep. He knew that even if he chased after her to discuss lunch, she probably wouldn't listen. Han Tao decided to bring up the lunch issue in a few days.

Fatty rubbed his slightly hungry stomach, then looked over at Weiwei, who was still fast asleep. He desperately wanted to sneak into the kitchen to see if there was anything good to eat. There should be some leftover beef that Qiqi cooked yesterday, right? If he boiled some noodles and topped them with a bit of that beef, oh, the flavor—just thinking about it made Fatty’s stomach rumble louder. He couldn't help licking his lips, hoping his stomach wouldn't stage a protest. Just then, he caught the distinct smell of cooking food. “Whoa, who’s cooking this early?”

Fatty knew that smelling food late at night in this building was normal, but this early in the morning, you couldn't expect anyone to be up cooking. Fatty wondered if he was so hungry he was hallucinating.

Fatty kept telling himself it was a dream, it was a dream, but the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Even if it were a dream, how could it smell this real? He considered it carefully, slowly climbing out of bed. He gently opened the door, made sure Lu Qiaowei hadn't stirred, and then softly closed it again. The moment he stepped out, he was certain Qiqi was in the kitchen. But he reasoned that breakfast only required frying an egg, maybe some bread, and milk or a glass of juice. Was such an elaborate spread necessary so early? Breakfast this extravagant? Eating a simple lunch always gave Fatty a sense of guilt. While nutritionists stressed the importance of a good breakfast, Fatty was accustomed to everyone gathering for a hearty dinner to slowly chat about the recent work situation.

Wang Qiqi had just finished stir-frying the first dish and was about to start the second when she was startled by a sudden apparition. It was mainly because Fatty’s face was already large, and with his hair a mess—sticks pointing in every direction—he looked utterly ungainly. “Fatty, what are you doing?” What Qiqi truly couldn't handle was that he didn't even open the kitchen door; his face was pressed directly against the kitchen's glass panel. His fleshy cheeks were squashed together, and since he hadn't washed up, he looked incredibly greasy.

“Qiqi. Are you making breakfast?” Fatty looked at the dish already done, noticing the vegetables soaking in the sink, and realized this wasn't preparation for dinner.

Wang Qiqi opened the door to let Fatty in, which made him slightly less offensive to look at. “It’s not breakfast; it’s our lunch. We can’t keep eating fast food all the time.”

Fatty deflated immediately upon hearing it wasn't breakfast. He genuinely wanted to explode: If you’re not making breakfast, please don’t get up this early! Who makes such delicious food first thing in the morning? It must be for the main meal, right? He hadn’t expected it to be lunch. He asked cautiously, “Is there a portion for me? By the way, is there any beef?” If there was beef, Fatty was determined to secure a spot; yesterday’s dessert was utterly flavorless, especially watching Han Tao and the others devour it—that cream, Fatty could still sense the taste of that cream.

Wang Qiqi looked at the reminiscing Fatty and wanted to yell, ‘Lu Qiaowei, take your man away, he’s terrifying!’ A typical glutton. “Yes, there’s beef. Han Tao and I are fine with it. Your bento needs your Weiwei’s approval, though.” Sometimes Wang Qiqi felt Fatty had it tough; he worked himself to death daily and couldn't eat many things—misery compounded by misery. But everyone’s intentions were for his health. “Fatty, you need to diet when you have time, and remember to exercise for an hour every day, with Han Tao.” Although Han Tao’s physical report was okay, Wang Qiqi was dissatisfied with his flabby midsection. He used to have at least four abs; now he didn’t even have two, which made Qiqi feel irritable. This was a good opportunity to supervise Fatty as well.

Dieting again. Fatty felt his mood sour upon hearing that word so early in the morning. “Dieting, dieting—if you don't let me eat well, how can I have the motivation to diet? Even death row inmates get a final grand meal.” Fatty felt deeply aggrieved, like he ranked below a condemned prisoner. “You need a full stomach to have the energy to work, no matter what you do. Even the Emperor doesn't starve his soldiers, Qiqi, right?” Fatty thought talking to Qiqi would be better; Han Tao and Lu Qiaowei were already allied. Taking advantage of Qiqi having just woken up, Fatty felt he could still build rapport with her. “Qiqi, we’ve known each other for so many years—since your freshman year, right? Longer than you’ve known Han Tao, even longer than Weiwei. You have to support me here,” Fatty said, lowering his stance.

Wow, he’s even pulling the friendship card. Wang Qiqi hadn't expected Fatty to become so articulate now. She should show this to Shi Man; they both used to agree that this person couldn't hold a decent conversation, but now, for a bit of food, he was spewing out eloquent arguments. “I do believe that strict dieting isn’t the best way to lose weight.”

When Fatty heard Qiqi say this, his face immediately bloomed into a smile. He knew Qiqi was the one who truly understood the concerns of them fatty people. “Exactly! Dieting brings a lot of problems—it’s bad for the stomach, bad for blood pressure, and on top of that, my health isn't great.”

Wang Qiqi stopped Fatty from starting another lengthy monologue by raising her hand, signaling him to let her finish first. To secure good food, he had argued from humanitarian grounds to friendship to how weak his body was. If Qiqi hadn't woken up early today—a thought she had the night before—she would have assumed Han Tao and Fatty had conspired to have Fatty prepare for this early. “However, if someone cannot engage in heavy exercise, I think dieting is still necessary.”

The smile that had just appeared on Fatty’s face immediately drooped when he heard Wang Qiqi’s words. “Qiqi, I’m not saying I don’t exercise.” He just didn’t exercise every day. “I really do exercise, but you know how busy our work is. Once we get slammed with work, pulling all-nighters, where is the time to work out?”

“Those are excuses. If you want to exercise, you can run to and from work every day,” Wang Qiqi replied. Yesterday, she had asked Han Tao how far the company was. Hearing it was a fifteen-minute drive, which translated to about an hour’s run, Qiqi had already considered running to work daily. Biking would also be an option, offering better cardiovascular exercise than riding a standard bike.

Running to and from work… Fatty was severely provoked by Qiqi’s casual suggestion. “Do you have any idea how far that is?” Good heavens, it takes fifteen minutes by car! “And I have to carry my laptop to and from work. You don’t expect me to strap my laptop to my back and run, do you?” Actually, his best reason was that the office lacked shower facilities, but he remembered there was a small shower room, specifically for those who exercised. Fatty suddenly realized Han Tao had insisted on installing that shower room. Fatty deeply suspected Han Tao had set a trap for him back then.

“Han Tao can drive you and your laptop,” Wang Qiqi said, looking at the still-defending Fatty, realizing it might be a bit cruel to suggest he run alone. “Once I map the route, I plan to run to work every day. Will you join me?”

What? Qiqi plans to run to work? Fatty’s first reaction was that Qiqi was bluffing. “Do you even know the distance? Even if you map it, do you think you can actually run it?” Fatty used a slightly exaggerated tone to describe to Wang Qiqi the number of kilometers between their apartment and the office. Qiqi might have exercised before, but for the past six months, she had been so busy with the studio that she hadn’t had much time to work out. Fatty assumed Qiqi was just kidding him. Besides, even if Qiqi could persist, would Han Tao let his woman run to work alone?

Qiqi noticed the unconcealed disbelief in Fatty’s eyes, but she wasn't annoyed. “Then, are you willing to make a bet with me?” Wang Qiqi had been worrying about how to rope Fatty into running with her daily, fearing he wouldn't be easily persuaded. She hadn't expected him to fall for the bait so easily. It would be foolish not to seize such a perfect opportunity.

Fatty looked at the composed Wang Qiqi, wondering if she was serious. A fierce internal struggle erupted in his mind between accepting the bet or not. In the end, Fatty decided to gamble.

Wang Qiqi was thrilled that Fatty had taken the hook so readily. They sealed the bet with a high-five, the wager now official. She looked at Fatty, who appeared completely confident of victory, thinking, Fatty, your days of suffering are coming soon. If there was any time left, he should go back and get some sleep. Starting tomorrow, his wake-up time would be seven, and they absolutely had to leave by eight.

Fatty felt quite smug, too, utterly confident in winning the bet. The thought of obtaining the item Qiqi possessed made him extremely happy, completely missing the triumphant smirk playing on Wang Qiqi’s lips. RP