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Besides, I had already investigated my roommates‘ backgrounds before school started. Her parents were just ordinary working–class people.
As for why she had so many luxury items and whether they were genuine, I couldn’t be bothered to think about it.
I just wanted to enjoy my college life now, because after graduation, I’d have to take over the company and would never have such a relaxed
time again.
After finishing unpacking, my parents called me out for dinner.
They were worried I wouldn’t adapt to dorm life and wanted to donate some equipment to the school so I could commute. I refused, not wanting to be so high–profile or make others think I was using connections.
When I returned, I found I couldn’t open the door to our room. I knocked for a while before Lily finally opened it.
She immediately threw a piece of paper at me: “From now on, if you forget your key, you’ll have to send a red envelope to each of us to get in.”
I looked at the contents and nearly dropped my jaw. The first rule: Responsible for cleaning the dorm every day.
Second rule: Wake up half an hour early to buy breakfast for them and save seats in the classroom.
Third rule: Hand wash her underwear and socks daily.
I didn’t read the rest and threw it back in her face. She was treating me like a free maid.
If she wouldn’t let me in, I’d break down the door. It would only cost a little to replace.
I didn’t want to cause trouble at the start of school, but that didn’t mean I was easy to bully,
She became furious and tried to slap me, but I firmly gripped her wrist. She glared at me, gritting her teeth: “I’ll tell my dad you’re bullying me. Just you wait.”
I wasn’t raised to be scared easily. People like her shouldn’t be indulged.
Even if Mr. Evans really came, he wouldn’t dare touch a hair on my head.
I gripped her hand tighter, making her cry out in pain.
“Apologize.”
Her eyes widened, and I applied more pressure. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and begged: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
12:49 PM
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f
I hadn’t been working out every day for years for nothing. The muscles in my arms weren’t just for show.
She stared at me, unable to do anything.
The next day, she got up early to put on makeup, the clanking of her cosmetics waking me up.
She wore clothes covered in designer logos, exuding a nouveau riche vibe.
I casually put on some casual wear, which prompted her sarcastic comments: “If you can’t afford genuine items, don’t pretend. Wearing fakes will only make people laugh at you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh: “Who knows if yours are real? Dressed like that, people might think you’re some nouveau riche’s illegitimate child.”
Angered, she took out several receipts from her suitcase to show me: “You country bumpkin, who are you calling fake?”
I glanced at the receipts, which did seem genuine. When she asked me to show my receipts, I was stumped. Who carries around clothing
receipts?
In our first class, the advisor asked us to introduce ourselves.
Lily was the first to raise her hand and went to the front: “Hi everyone, I’m Lily Evans, blood type A. I welcome all Type A and O people to be my friends. I’ll treat everyone to dinner tonight.”
She certainly knew how to win people over. A crowd quickly gathered around her, flattering her.
When it was my turn to go up, she started causing trouble.
“Oh, you don’t know, yesterday I saw her using some sketchy lipstick and felt sorry for her, so I gave her a $422 lipstick. I must have hurt her pride because look how she grabbed my wrist.”
Everyone saw her reddened wrist and looked at me with contempt. When I came down, only a few people applauded.
Ridiculous. Just the usual tactics of a mean girl, twisting black and white.
Besides, I had already asked my dad’s secretary to investi
