Manners

But as the two devoured their food, someone knocked gently on the table. Ye Qingxuan looked up to see a stranger.

The thin young man had a pair of delicate and long hands. He seemed steady and sure. His robe was pure black, bare of any decorations, as if he was going to a funeral. But there were no funerals at this school, and he seemed out of place.

After he appeared, the cafeteria seemed to get colder, and the vague commotion became muted, as if they had become distant.

"You’re that Easterner?" he stared at the youth, studying him.

Ye Qingxuan nodded. "That’s me."

"I’m Richard." He reached out for a handshake. His hand felt cold like steel. Pointing at his clothes, his expression was still calm. "Student council, executive office. I bet you don’t like people who wear this."

Charles kicked Ye Qingxuan under the table, hinting at him to be serious. Of course Ye Qingxuan was serious. He knew what the executive office did.