Xiao Shaowan glanced at Yang Haoran and let out a soft “Mm,” before ignoring him completely.
She had a perfectly oval face, with delicate arched eyebrows, bright sparkling eyes, a perky nose, and cherry-small lips, all complemented by her fair, tender skin. Her beauty utterly crushed those cookie-cutter influencer faces sculpted by endless plastic surgery—not to mention that even some top-tier A-list celebrities couldn’t hold a candle to her.
And it wasn’t just her natural, sky-high looks; her figure was downright devilish. Her full breasts stood proud, her waist was slender as a willow branch, her hips curved enticingly, and her legs stretched long and straight. Her feet were a rosy white, like flawless jade set into crystal flip-flops, irresistibly alluring.
With looks like hers, she was every bit Yang Mengyao’s equal.
“Shaowan, I heard Yang Haoran’s family is loaded,” Du Sha said.
Xiao Shaowan shot her deskmate a surprised look but said nothing more.
She knew full well that Yang Haoran had a crush on her. The whole class was a tiny space, after all—unless he hid it perfectly or never made a move, there was no way she wouldn’t notice.
Given Yang Haoran’s shameless personality, he’d fawned over her openly in class plenty of times already.
“Uh… Shaowan, why are you so chill about this?” Du Sha whispered, leaning in close. “Didn’t you say you wanted a rich boyfriend? Yang Haoran seems perfect—he’s been chasing you forever.”
“The intel’s solid. I heard his family lives in Scenic River Neighborhood. You know, G City’s rich folks’ enclave~”
“It’s all standalone villas. You need billions in the bank just to move in,” Du Sha went on, her face alight with envy.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with me. Didn’t I tell you? I’ve got a boyfriend, and he’s filthy rich.”
Xiao Shaowan gave a light chuckle, her faint smile carrying an enigmatic edge that left Du Sha baffled.
It was like an orchid in bloom—pure, elegant, and mysteriously captivating.
Du Sha wasn’t buying it. She’d never laid eyes on this mystery boyfriend of Xiao Shaowan’s. Still, one thing nagged at her: ever since Shaowan claimed to have one, she’d come into money. Rumors were swirling around school that some sugar daddy had her on his payroll.
They’d been deskmates for nearly a year. Du Sha remembered exactly what Xiao Shaowan had been like at the start of term—dressed in threadbare clothes washed threadbare, her life a struggle. In the school cafeteria, she’d always pick the cheapest slop: watery soup and plain rice.
Back then, Xiao Shaowan had confided in her: she’d marry rich someday, and even a boyfriend had to have deep pockets.
“Shaowan, it’s not like the rumors say—you’re not getting kept by some guy, are you?”
Du Sha fixed her with an odd stare.
The look hit Xiao Shaowan like a raw nerve. Her face darkened in an instant, and she stared back at Du Sha stone-faced.
Du Sha flinched at her deskmate’s expression, mustered an awkward smile, and clammed up.
What’s with the attitude? she grumbled inwardly. Everyone knew how broke you were at the start of term. Now you’re dripping in gold and silver—you’re just a kept bitch.
For all her inner resentment, Du Sha kept a poker face.
Xiao Shaowan eyed her deskmate: pretty enough features, a solid figure, breasts just budding. A cold smirk tugged at her lips, as if some thought had struck her.
Elsewhere, a voice rang out—not loud enough to shout, but plenty big. Whispers had been floating around, but this one was deliberate, meant to carry.
“I figured this total loser Yang Haoran had dropped out by now. Guess he still had the balls to show up.”
The tone was casual, but dripping with mockery.
Yang Haoran turned toward it. Zhao Jun.
Zhao Jun ignored his glare and kept going. “Some people just tank their grades—probably greased palms to snag a spot in Class 5. Dragging down the whole average, dead weight, and too shameless to care… Heh.”
Yang Haoran hadn’t even heated up yet when Wei Ming blew his top. Bang! He slammed his desk and shot to his feet. “Zhao Jun, that dog mouth of yours can’t spit ivory. If you can’t talk right, zip it!”
Zhao Jun had seen Wei Ming’s outburst coming and brushed it off. Normally, he wouldn’t push this hard, but those rumors he’d heard still burned in his gut. He’d been stewing in class, waiting for Yang Haoran to show. Now that the guy was here, no way was he letting it slide easy.
This was his chance: humiliate the bastard in front of everyone and vent.
Zhao Jun turned to his deskmate Li Peng. “Hey, didn’t the teacher teach us that idiom? ‘One rat spoils the pot of porridge,’ right?”
Li Peng, ever the sidekick, caught on quick and played along with a snide twist. “Yeah, but looks like more than one rat to me. Make it two.”
“Oh… two?” Zhao Jun played dumb, sweeping the room. His eyes lingered on Yang Haoran and Wei Ming, then he snapped his fingers like it just clicked. “Oh, right—two! I missed the second one jumping out earlier… Alas.” He sighed theatrically.
The pair tag-teamed it like a cheap comedy duo.
“Shut it, Zhao Jun.” The class monitor Yang Mengyao—who everyone saw as the quiet type—couldn’t stomach him trashing her brother anymore. Her pretty, innocent face blazed with fury as she stood, glaring daggers.
Since it was the class monitor speaking up for unity, no one batted an eye. But not Zhao Jun. Her reaction just fueled his suspicions.
Every eye in the class swung to Yang Haoran. The guys looked at him like a gutless punk; the girls, with outright scorn.
Young bloods like them lived for face. Taking this public smackdown without flinching?
Wei Ming’s face went beet red, rage boiling over. Pa! He kicked his stool flying and lunged to throw down.
The silent Yang Haoran grabbed his arm. Wei Ming, chest heaving, whipped around and unloaded. “Rat, don’t make me think less of you. If you don’t back me up and beat Zhao Jun and Li Peng till their own moms can’t ID ’em, I’ll call you a coward myself.”
Yang Haoran’s face stayed blank. No telling what brewed inside.
Without a word, he rose slowly. The whole class watched.
He locked eyes with Zhao Jun, voice even, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Zhao Jun, feeling pretty big, huh? You trash-talk me behind my back all you want—fair enough, my grades do pull the class down. Can’t argue that.
“But today? Saying it right to my face in front of everyone? You think I’m deaf?”
