However, sometimes things that seem as incompatible as water and fire, or as impossible as ice and burning coals sharing the same stove, do happen. The two people everyone recognizes as the quintessential goofball and the artsy youth are, in fact, inseparable companions. See, the two of them, arms slung over each other's shoulders, are heading straight for the main dining hall. Chad Bennett ignores Victor Smith's sarcasm, and Victor Smith is already used to Chad Bennett's blunt remarks. The two of them, rather than being a mismatched pair of an artsy type and a goofball, are more like Bo Ya meeting Zhong Ziqi—a perfect match.

Look at Chad Bennett's silly grin; Victor Smith starts to show concern: “Dapeng, your internship is about to start, and you still have to prepare your graduation thesis. Stop goofing around all day. Have you started working on it yet?”

“Dear Xian, this isn’t hard, is it? I’ll just find a company to stamp my internship paperwork—my dad will take care of it. As for the thesis, you’ll handle it for me, so what am I worried about?” Chad Bennett replied with a deliberately teasing nickname.

Victor Smith was already used to this and warned, “Don’t just expect everything to be handed to you. I’ve decided I can’t indulge you anymore this time—it’s not good for you.”

Chad Bennett replied indifferently, “Whatever, I’ll just go to the boss. He said you can buy a thesis on Taobao.”

“Plagiarism and copying are shameful. But being too lazy to even copy, like you, is just pathetic.” Victor Smith said earnestly. Chad Bennett glanced at Victor Smith; he’d heard this kind of artsy talk so much his ears had grown calluses. Curling his lip in disdain, he said, “Oh, please. Just last week you said living in this era is pathetic, so why is it only me who’s pathetic today?”

Victor Smith was momentarily at a loss for words, then shook his head and said, “Forget it… The boss is right, you’re from another world, there’s no point arguing with you.”

Chad Bennett chuckled, feeling a rare sense of intellectual and rhetorical superiority. Even though they often argued until they were red in the face, it never stopped them from sharing a meal from the same bowl. Laughing and joking, they had just reached the vicinity of the dining hall when both of them suddenly stopped and stared at each other in surprise.

Their smiles faded, their conversation ceased, and they exchanged a look of astonishment. It seemed that today, they really wouldn’t be getting an easy meal.

A crowd was gathered in front of the dining hall, though it wasn’t clear what they were watching. Several double glass doors were blocked by a group of male students, who were saying something to the girls coming to get food. The scene was chaotic, with people packed from the entrance all the way out onto the road. Many girls, looking frustrated, carried their meal trays back the way they came, whispering quietly among themselves.

Something had happened!? Something definitely happened. Boredom is the bane of college life, and Chad Bennett, always eager for excitement, saw a commotion and immediately ditched Victor Smith, heading straight for the group of girls, eavesdropping from behind with his ears perked up, looking as sneaky as could be.

“They’re on strike… Who started it?” one girl whispered.

“Who knows, but it’s a good thing. The head chef in the dining hall is awful—he gives more food to the pretty girls and doesn’t even swipe their cards. Serves them right.” another girl said, clearly not attractive enough to get free food.

Girls love to gossip, and another one joined in, pointing at a big-character poster on the dining hall wall and giggling quietly: “Did you see it? The university paper says, ‘If the quality of the food doesn’t improve, those who eat the noodles will become haggard. Those who eat the tofu bread will be heartbroken. This strike will go on and on…’ Signed by a hungry girl. So talented. Haha…”

Some people just love a spectacle, and Chad Bennett was definitely one of them. The more he eavesdropped, the more interesting it got. Suddenly, a girl turned around and almost bumped into Chad Bennett, who was sneaking up behind her. Startled by Chad Bennett's awkward, lopsided face, she let out a sharp scream: “What are you doing?”

It turned out to be a freckled girl of rather questionable looks, yet she acted like a startled little deer, clutching her chest. Chad Bennett rolled his eyes and said, “Why are you screaming? Who would believe you if you yelled ‘pervert’?”

The girl was instantly infuriated. She bit her lip, rolled her eyes again, and spat out two words at Chad Bennett with a look of utter contempt: “Go… die!”

Having vented her anger, she dragged her friend away. Chad Bennett snorted, tossing his head proudly—he couldn’t be bothered to argue with a girl who didn’t catch his eye. He didn’t care. But when he looked back, he couldn’t find Victor Smith. Standing on tiptoe, he looked around and saw his artsy buddy, as usual, standing in front of the big-character poster at the dining hall entrance, pondering the flamboyant calligraphy. Just as he was squeezing forward, a new commotion broke out—a raspy voice was riling up the crowd:

“Classmates, we must unite! For our milk and bread, we must bravely unite! Oppose price hikes, oppose filth and disorder, oppose inhumane treatment!”

“…Classmates, we must wake up! We must bravely resist food that comes with cockroaches…”

“That’s right, we’re spending our parents’ hard-earned money—why should we be exploited?”

“The price has gone up three times in a month. This isn’t exploitation, it’s outright robbery. We must strike, and strike to the end!”

Both boys and girls, several voices stirred the crowd, and the last line was shouted by a rather attractive girl waving her fist. Chad Bennett wasn’t sure if he was swept up by the crowd’s excitement or just excited to see a pretty girl, but his blood was pumping as he shouted, “Yes, well said… Down with exploitation, support the strike!”

With a wave of his fist, his spontaneous response was echoed by others. The dining hall managers peered out from the entrance, and more boys raised their fists and joined in: “Unite, support the strike!”

After a few more shouts, someone started banging their meal tray in rhythm, and everyone chanted in unison:

“Strike… strike!”

“Strike… strike!”