Hearing prices that steep, half the students who'd meant to order drifted quietly back to their spots.
The cook paid it no mind. Still all smiles, she swiped the funds of those who did pay — and what a radiant smile it was.
"Thank you for your patronage." To the two academies' eyes, the cook's beaming face was the very picture of a profiteer.
"Um… one steamed bun will do for me…" An elderly professor came forward, pointing at the cheapest item on the menu — a bun, just three star coins. And because this old professor came from Heaven's Glory, by the rules stated earlier, he'd have to pay triple.
Just as he opened his electronic account to pay, the crewwoman with the card reader quietly drew it back.
The old professor looked at her, puzzled.
"We won't take your money. Your order's already been put in," the crewwoman said.
"You won't take it… why?"
She smiled. "You're Professor Jiang, aren't you? During your research at Heaven's Glory, you developed a medical compound — and you never charged a single patent fee for it. You made the technique public, free of charge. The Empire rewarded you with a sum of star coins, and you donated every coin of it to the Red Cross. Our Commander says: whatever you order here, we charge you nothing."
With that, she took an apple from the cart beside her and held it out. "The food will take a little while — have an apple to tide you over. And the floor can't be comfortable; we've set out a chair and a hot towel for you. Please rest here while you wait for your meal."
Old Professor Jiang took the apple, his expression a little dazed — and, remarkably, a glimmer of wetness rose in his eyes.
The two academies' people around him were astonished; they'd never imagined this quiet old professor, who'd come all this way with them unremarked, had such a story behind him. They'd taken him for nothing more than the group's attached medic, looking after their health. Even most of the Heaven's Glory teachers and students had no idea of his past.
"Thank you… thank you…" Old Professor Jiang said it over and over, biting into the apple with a smile, and murmured, from the heart, "So sweet…"
The sight left many of the two academies' people — who moments ago had been grumbling about this Commander — with a complicated tangle of feeling.
"That old professor really has a past like that? I had no idea." Zhao Wan'er watched, surprised, as the crew settled him carefully into a chair to rest.
Beside her, Instructor Qin let out a long sigh. "I've heard Professor Jiang's story. That medical patent was worth a fortune, in truth — it could cut battlefield deaths among the wounded by 20%, and it was cheaper than most of the medicines of its day. Heaven's Glory wanted him to hold the patent and license it through the academy — that way they'd not only have made a great deal of money, but seized the chance to build connections and raise the Heaven's Glory Noble Starship Military Academy's standing. But old Professor Jiang went his own way and chose, without wavering, to release the technique freely. His words were: if it had been starship technology, he'd have handed it to the academy — but this was medicine, for saving lives and healing the wounded, and it shouldn't be used to make money. At the very least, he wouldn't do it. Though the Empire honored him at the time, Heaven's Glory quietly blacklisted him — no more lab, no more research funding; the courses he taught were shut down one by one on this pretext or that, until hardly a soul even knew what he'd done. These days, at Heaven's Glory, he's merely a physician in the student medical office. Professor Jiang is a true talent; our Northstar once wanted to bring him over. But the man is stubborn — he said Heaven's Glory had trained him, and however they treated him, he would never leave. He's one of the few people my father truly admires. I never expected Zhao Chen would know this old story too."
Hearing Instructor Qin tell it, the others were struck all over again by what Zhao Chen had done.
After the old professor, several more professors and instructors received similar treatment, one after another.
Meanwhile, a Heaven's Glory student sidled over to the Northstar students and murmured something under his breath. Soon a few Northstar students came hesitantly back up to the counter, meaning to order.
At that, the cook remarked, as if in passing, "Oh, right — one more thing. Whatever you order, only you may eat it; sharing with anyone else is not allowed. You may pay on someone else's behalf, but you may not order on their behalf. If we catch it — the consequences are yours."
Those four simple words — the consequences are yours — sent the Northstar students, one and all, back to their spots with their heads down.
Seeing it, Su Lan and the others guessed the reason. Some Heaven's Glory students, unwilling to pay triple or tenfold, must have tried to get the Northstar students — who could buy at base price — to proxy-buy for them.
"I… why is mine 30 times?! I'm only a Heaven's Glory student — that's just triple!" A Heaven's Glory student who'd finally broken under his hunger ordered, then saw a bill topping 1,000 star coins, and blanched.
"Because you're not only a Heaven's Glory student — a moment ago you also said some rather unpleasant things here." The cook's face went cold.
"I… I never said anything! What proof do you have that I did?" the boy shouted.
The cook raised a hand, and a holographic window appeared, playing back footage from the hangar — the star of which was the very man before her.
"That man's so crude! Treating a Count's son with such rudeness — how vulgar!…"
The boy's own words played back, word for word. That left him with nothing to say.
"Do you still wish to order?" the cook asked, expressionless.
"These few… forget them… just give me a… a bun…" Face bitter, he paid a "sky-high" 150 star coins for a bun that cost five at base.
At this, the student who'd earlier been told to "count himself lucky he was a Northstar student" understood at last. If not for that status, what he'd have owed wasn't tenfold — it was a full 30 times. And now he wore the contented look of a man who found tenfold not so unbearable after all.
Just then another voice rang out, pulling every eye toward it.
"Wait! Why is ours 100 times?!" Zhou Min — a bandage bound round her shoulder — and a fair-faced pretty-boy beside her stared at their bills, the color draining from their faces. Each had ordered food priced at 100 star coins base — and the total showing was a full 10,000.
The cook regarded the pair with a smile. "Because for you two, that's the price."