The system glanced over and noticed the phone screen displayed a chat group titled "XX Class of XX Year"—clearly an alumni group.
This group had always been in the original host’s messaging app, but after years of everyone going their separate ways, it had grown inactive, with only the occasional message popping up every couple of weeks.
Even if left unopened for half a month, the unread messages never exceeded ninety-nine.
Of course, hardly anyone ever reached out to the original host. The rare exceptions were wedding invitations from classmates she barely remembered speaking to during school.
But today, the group was unusually lively—all because a male classmate, Zhuang Yi, suddenly made an appearance.
Back in school, Zhuang Yi had been the heartthrob of their department. After graduation, he’d done well for himself, becoming a minor internet-famous model. His social media was filled with luxury cars and beautiful women, and he was usually too busy to spare a response in the group.
Yet today, he’d suddenly decided to reconnect with old classmates—and, most notably, was engaging in lively exchanges with Shen Ying.
The sight of it visibly irritated several female classmates.
Earlier, Lu Linwei had claimed Shen Ying had no friends—and that was true. In college, the original host’s sweet and quiet demeanor had made her quite popular with guys.
Unfortunately, some trash mistook her introverted, gentle nature for easy prey—including those who already had girlfriends or were involved in ambiguous relationships.
When their advances failed, they slandered her, accusing her of leading men on and playing with their feelings. Their girlfriends, convinced by the lies, would confront her publicly and spread rumors that she enjoyed stealing other people’s boyfriends.
As a result, the original host’s reputation in college was abysmal, and she had few friends. Of course, this setup was all for the sake of the novel’s melodramatic plot—cliché as it was.
Sure enough, seeing Zhuang Yi chat so warmly with Shen Ying, someone couldn’t resist a snide remark:
*[Zhuang Yi, you have a girlfriend now, right?]*
*[Haven’t heard anything about that. He hasn’t posted anything on social media.]*
*[If he didn’t have a girlfriend, why would Shen Ying bother? Her taste is *special*—she only has eyes for other people’s men.]*
Zhuang Yi immediately fired back: *[Enough. We were young and stupid back then, but now you’re still spreading rumors and insults? Who do you think you are?]*
His anger shut them up. A few male classmates quickly stepped in to smooth things over, and the topic was soon brushed aside.
Finally, Zhuang Yi suggested a class reunion—his treat, at a high-end restaurant. The group erupted in eager agreement and flattery.
He then specifically tagged Shen Ying: *[You’re free tomorrow, right? You *have* to come.]*
Shen Ying replied: *[Of course. I’ll be there.]*
After sending the message, Shen Ying smirked. "Done."
The system understood—Zhuang Yi was a minor character who’d appeared in the original novel.
He was the original host’s secret crush—though "secret" wasn’t quite accurate, since after her roommate discovered photos she’d taken of him playing basketball, it became practically common knowledge.
Back then, Zhuang Yi had shown no interest in her. So why was he suddenly being so warm and attentive? Anyone could guess where this was headed.
The next day, after a bit of styling, Shen Ying drove out in the Bugatti Veyron she was *temporarily holding* for her brother.
When she arrived, someone recognized her at the entrance.
The sight of her stepping out of the luxury car, every inch of her outfit, shoes, and bag exuding refinement, left them speechless.
Shen Ying greeted them casually and walked in with a classmate she’d run into outside.
Most of the group had already gathered, and when Shen Ying entered, their reactions mirrored those at the door—shock, envy, resentment. The air around her thickened with those emotions.
Zhuang Yi approached. He was even more handsome than in college, though subtle signs of cosmetic work made his features slightly unnatural in person, despite how striking they might look on camera.
His eyes lingered on Shen Ying with undisguised admiration—whether for her looks or her lavish attire was unclear.
Pulling out a chair with exaggerated courtesy, he said, "Shen Ying, sit here."
Only after she sat did he take the seat beside her.
Between her dazzling entrance, dripping with wealth, and Zhuang Yi’s blatant favoritism, many in the room were visibly uncomfortable.
A woman with long curls spoke up first. "Shen Ying? I almost didn’t recognize you—you’re *so* gorgeous now."
"But I remember you looking different before. Your eyes are bigger, your nose is sharper, your chin more pointed—so enviable."
A few girls at the table snickered under their breath.
Shen Ying smiled. "Thanks for the compliment. But you—you haven’t changed a bit. I recognized you the second I walked in."
"You still look exactly like you did after freshman military training. Back then, I thought that charred look was just a sunburn—that if you stayed indoors long enough, changed your clothes, and fixed your hair, you’d turn out pretty."
"Turns out, I blamed the sun unfairly."
The woman’s face twisted with fury. No one expected Shen Ying, who’d never fought back before, to retaliate so sharply.
Before she could retort, a short-haired woman beside her tugged her sleeve, silencing her.
This woman seemed to have married and had children, her plump frame adorned with heavy gold jewelry and a designer bag from a luxury brand’s classic line—clearly well-off.
She gave Shen Ying’s outfit a once-over and smiled. "That’s a nice bag. Looks just like the knockoff my cousin bought for 400 bucks. How much was yours?"
Shen Ying: "860,000."
The short-haired woman, who prided herself on knowing luxury brands, recognized Shen Ying’s bag as a limited-edition piece from a top-tier brand—fewer than five existed in the country.
Price aside, it wasn’t something just anyone could buy. Even with millions spent on pre-requisite purchases, securing one was near impossible.
And Shen Ying had one?
Her smile stiffened. "No need to put on airs. We’re all classmates here—why act like we’re strangers? I genuinely think your knockoff is well-made. I’d love to buy one myself—just share the link."
Another woman chimed in, "Yeah, I want one too. Just send us the store."
Shen Ying shrugged. "No need for links. I’ll sell you mine—brand new, first time wearing it today. It’s appreciated in value since I bought it, but since we’re classmates, I’ll give it to you for the original price: 860,000. You’ll save on the pre-spend too. Pretty generous, right?"
The woman scoffed. "Are you scamming me? Selling a fake for 860,000? You’d actually take that?"
Shen Ying tilted her head. "Why not? If you’re serious, we’ll go through all the proper channels—receipts, certification, appraisal. The biggest luxury authentication center in the province is literally next door."
"Show me your bank balance can cover it, and after this meal, we’ll go. My treat for the appraisal fee."
The woman’s face fell. "I was just joking."
Shen Ying smiled. "No worries. The offer stands whenever you save up. Classmate discount’s always open for you."
After that, no one doubted her wealth was real.
The quality of fakes could never compare.
Some men suddenly understood why Zhuang Yi was being so unusually warm toward Shen Ying—turns out this guy had insider info about her recent success.
A man with an ingratiating smile asked, “Doing well for yourself, Shen Ying? Where are you working these days?”
Before she could answer, a male classmate with a noticeable beer belly chimed in, “I ran into you just a few months ago when you were still a clerk at some small company. Never expected you’d climb so fast. Quite the talent for making money, huh, Shen Ying?”
Then, with a meaningful smirk, he added, “But then again, you’ve always been popular with men. I suppose it’s no surprise if someone gave you a leg up.”
The insinuation was clear to everyone, men and women alike.
Yet Shen Ying didn’t bother defending herself. Instead, she countered, “Where’s your girlfriend?”
The beer-bellied man knew she was referring to his ex from their college days and chuckled, “We broke up ages ago.”
“Women are always so materialistic. But hey, are you still hung up on that time she barged into your dorm to yell at you?”
“Water under the bridge. Youthful recklessness, you know? Anyway, with your status now, why waste energy on her?”
Shen Ying shook her head. “Pity. I told her back then that even if I were to steal a man, I wouldn’t pick someone with a heart smaller than a needle’s eye, a mouth sharper than a rooster’s crow, a face greasier than a pig’s, and a guarantee of baldness and flab before thirty.”
“She didn’t believe me at the time, but now—” Shen Ying cast a glance at the man, “—I suppose she’s seen the truth.”
The beer-bellied man, already petty by nature, couldn’t take the insult.
To make matters worse, Zhuang Yi decided to play along. “Bald? I don’t see Qiang Zi going bald?”
He reached out and ruffled the man’s hair. “Look at this lush mane—not a receding hairline in sight! Thick and strong—oh, my bad.”
Zhuang Yi awkwardly placed the wig back on the man’s head and withdrew his hand.
Already humiliated beyond measure, the beer-bellied man flushed crimson with rage.
Zhuang Yi tried to smooth things over. “Don’t take it to heart, buddy. Just a joke among classmates. I’ll punish myself with three drinks later, how’s that?”
The tension eventually eased, and the gathering carried on.
After dinner, Zhuang Yi brushed off the group’s invitation to karaoke, insisting on driving Shen Ying home.
But as soon as they got in the car, Shen Ying said, “I’m not ready to go back yet. Let’s grab another drink somewhere.”
There was a flicker of suggestion in her eyes as she spoke.
Zhuang Yi’s heart leapt—this was even easier than he’d planned.
Then again, given what he’d heard about Shen Ying being kept by some rich patron, with no job or social life, it made sense she’d be itching for company.
Smirking, he turned the car around and drove straight to a hotel.
He booked a luxury suite and had room service bring up a bottle of wine.
While Shen Ying sat on the sofa scrolling through her phone, Zhuang Yi uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. With his back turned, he dropped a pill into one of them, watching it dissolve in seconds.
Putting on his most charming smile, he carried the glasses over and handed one to Shen Ying.
She met his gaze, raised her glass, and said, “To the good times ahead.”
Zhuang Yi’s grin widened. “To good times.”
Shen Ying clinked her glass lightly against his and downed the wine in one go.
Setting the empty glass down, she looked at him. “Bottoms up.”
Not to be outdone, Zhuang Yi drained his own glass.
He sat beside her, about to speak, when a knock sounded at the door.
Annoyance flashed across his face, but he quickly masked it. “Probably room service. Wait here, I’ll get it.”
He strode to the door and swung it open—only to find a lanky high school boy in a blue-and-white uniform standing outside.
Zhuang Yi’s expression darkened. “Who the hell are you?”
The boy looked equally confused. “No idea. My sister told me to come. Said there was something heavy to move.”
“And who the fuck is your sister?”
“Clearly, it’s me.” Shen Ying’s voice came from behind.
The boy—Shen Yao—sighed in relief at the sight of her. “Oh, there you are. Thought I had the wrong room.”
Zhuang Yi turned back to Shen Ying, utterly baffled.
But before he could demand an explanation, a wave of dizziness hit him.
Then he heard the high schooler ask, “So, sis, what’s this ‘heavy thing’ I’m supposed to move?”
Shen Ying nodded toward Zhuang Yi. “Right there in front of you.”
