Zong Yan crawled out of the bathroom stall that had been intentionally locked from the outside. She forced herself to wash the stains from her body with water, then braced her hands against the sink. Facing the blurred mirror, she saw a girl with a cold, gloomy expression. There was a birthmark beneath her eye, and her bangs hung past her eyebrows. Her face was pale, and the way her lips pressed together gave her a harsh, unpleasant look that naturally repelled others.
On the right side of her face, there were faint impressions from where she had been pressed hard against the floor.
Zong Yan merely spared the reflection a brief, indifferent glance. She tidied her hair, letting her bangs once again shroud her eyes, then picked up her backpack from the floor and walked quickly away from one of the most secluded corners of the campus.
She pulled out her phone. The screen was so shattered it was impossible to tell how old the damage was, but it was at least still legible.
It was 1:40 PM.
Class had already been in session for ten minutes. The professor for this course was one of the few strictly demanding academics at the university; he detested nothing more than students who were late or skipped class.
However, being late was better than failing. There was still time.
Zong Yan broke into a light jog. On this sweltering summer day, the vast campus was dotted only with a few listless students who looked as though they wanted nothing more than to retreat to their air-conditioned dorms and never suffer the heat again.
No one spared Zong Yan a second look.
The campus of this prestigious, historic university was enormous. By the time Zong Yan reached the classroom, panting for breath, another fifteen minutes had passed. She steadied her breathing, knocked on the door, and pushed it open—
The entire room turned to look at her with a mixture of shock and disgust.
Zong Yan froze in the doorway.
"Student, are you in the wrong classroom?"
Seeing her standing there motionless, the teacher at the podium also frowned.
Only then did Zong Yan’s expression change. Her hand gripped the doorknob so hard her knuckles turned white, her face twisting into a look of extreme frustration.
Her reaction was so visceral that the teacher’s annoyance softened into concern. "Student, are you alright?" he asked cautiously.
Zong Yan lowered her head and bowed. "I’m sorry. I have the wrong room."
Clutching the worn straps of her backpack, she retreated into the hallway.
She looked up one last time at the room number. It was indeed 501, the room where they had always held this class.
Zong Yan quickly understood.
She realized why her roommates had been wearing such expectant smiles today.
For some reason, the classroom had been changed.
But she hadn't received the notification.
She had been kicked out of the class group chat long ago, and she had no close friends in the department. There was no way she could make it to the correct classroom before the period ended.
Though she was twenty years old, her frame was as thin as a sheet of paper. Chronic malnutrition made her look more like a minor.
Yet, Zong Yan stood 175 centimeters tall. Despite having rarely eaten meat or eggs since childhood, she had grown this tall—likely the only non-useless trait inherited from her otherwise inferior genes.
A faint, hot breeze drifted by.
Zong Yan moved.
She began knocking on doors and entering classrooms one by one, enduring countless glares and eye-rolls.
To her, however, this minor malice was like biting into a stone while eating, or finding a strand of hair or the pale corpse of an insect in her food. It was far more normal than eating rancid scraps or enduring hunger.
It didn't hurt; it didn't matter.
God did not favor her.
In fact, it would be more accurate to say that God had never spared a glance for Zong Yan.
By the time the bell rang to signal the end of class, she still hadn't found the right room.
A sudden surge of youthful college students poured out, laughing as they jostled past her. Some left her with looks of pure disdain.
"Why does this person smell so rank?"
"I smell it too. How disgusting."
Zong Yan stood silently amidst the crowd.
She didn't notice a girl who seemed to want to step forward and check on this clearly distressed student, but who ultimately gave up because of Zong Yan’s utterly unapproachable aura.
Even if Zong Yan had noticed, she wouldn't have cared.
"I'm so tired. I didn't get a nap at noon and almost fell asleep in class. That old man glared at me so many times. I'm going back to the dorm to catch up on sleep."
"Me too. My makeup is melting in this heat; I need to go back and fix it."
"..."
Voices that were sickeningly familiar.
With a cold face, Zong Yan turned toward the classroom on her left—a place she hadn't had time to check yet.
The three girls walking out were none other than the "dear roommates" who had locked her in the bathroom.
Their makeup was exquisite, they carried luxury brand bags, and their nails were painted in eccentric colors. As they chatted and laughed, they drew the attention of many passing male students.
"Hey, do you think *you-know-who* is still there? Hahaha..."
"I hope she is. She fits that place perfectly."
Beneath their lowered, dainty voices was a well of pure malice.
The people around them simply thought these beaming girls were discussing something pleasant, marveling at the beauty of youthful friendship and how girls truly loved to stick together.
Finally, a male student walked out of the classroom. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and he yawned as he sauntered out with his hands in his pockets.
His superior looks, tall stature, and expensive clothing caused many people to stop and stare.
That was Si Jiang.
A campus celebrity.
His family had so much money that the combined assets of everyone in their class probably wouldn't even equal his pocket change.
Several buildings on campus had been funded or renovated by his family.
Even the air conditioning in the dorms—which hadn't existed before because the school claimed students shouldn't be pampered—had been installed over a single break as soon as he moved in, fulfilling a wish that countless previous students had begged for in vain.
This gave Si Jiang, who already had plenty of followers, a strange sort of halo among the students.
No one hated Si Jiang.
Not even his countless ex-girlfriends.
But Zong Yan did not like Si Jiang.
To her, he was like those flies on the wall during humid weather that you can never seem to kill; they only bring more mosquitoes and gnats. He was nothing but trouble—a nuisance she could never shake off.
She and Si Jiang had been high school classmates.
By some cruel twist of fate, they had ended up in the same university class as well.
It was an ill-fated connection.
Even though the number of direct conversations they’d had could be counted on one hand, Si Jiang’s presence only brought deeper darkness to Zong Yan’s stagnant life.
The roommates stole a few glances at Si Jiang before stepping forward nervously to strike up a conversation. "Si Jiang, are you wearing that to go play ball?"
"We don't have anything to do. Can we come watch?"
Si Jiang lifted his eyelids slightly, his tone smooth. "Sure. Remember to cheer for me."
"We will!"
He successfully elicited shy, excited blushes from the girls.
Si Jiang was accustomed to such reactions. He ran a hand through his hair and let his gaze wander casually to the side.
Then he froze.
Why was that disgusting woman—the one who clung to him like Sadako—looking at him again with those eyes that treated him like a dead object?
He hated that look more than anything.
It was as if his appearance, his family background, and his glory were nothing more than worthless trash on the side of the road in her eyes.
No matter how dazzling the light, once it entered her world, it was dragged down into a murky swamp.
How could Si Jiang, who had been put on a pedestal since childhood and possessed an ego that reached the heavens, possibly endure that?
The laziness on his face vanished, replaced by a carefully crafted mask of gentleness.
He stepped past the group of girls, his voice perfectly softened. "Classmate Zong, did something happen? Why weren't you in class? You look terrible. Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?"
Zong Yan watched this performance with cold indifference.
When the lead actor begins his scene, the supporting cast naturally reacts.
She immediately received a barrage of icy glares.
However, she had seen such looks too many times growing up. Their lethality was less than that of a fifty-cent coin slipping down a drain—a permanent loss of property she would actually mourn.
"Si Jiang, you're so kind, even worrying about someone like her."
"Looking at her, who knows what kind of trouble she was out getting into."
"Oh, Zong Yan, why are you just getting here? We were worried about you the whole period. When the professor saw you weren't there, he looked furious. He said he’s definitely going to teach you a lesson."
The roommates crowded around her, blocking Si Jiang’s view. The frivolous, manufactured concern on their faces was as sickeningly sweet as the colorful candy wrappers Zong Yan used to pick up off the ground as a child.
They intentionally gripped her arms, digging into her injuries.
Zong Yan looked down; three pairs of eyes stared at her warningly.
Were they afraid she would speak out?
Zong Yan’s breathing didn't even falter. She simply shook them off and turned to walk away.
Class was over. The professor wouldn't listen to excuses. Everything was already pointless.
"Si Jiang was nice enough to care about her, and she didn't even say a word back."
"What an impolite freak."
Behind her, the familiar insults started up again.
***
