Lin Zhiyan often heard a saying back in District Sixteen: "If a job pays well, requires no upfront cost, and is easy, then ask yourself why it would fall into your lap."
While her peers frequently fell for scams, she had never been duped by shady part-time gigs—all because she held firm to that belief.
Lin Zhiyan once thought she’d never be fooled. That was until she finished selecting her courses and found her inbox flooded with emails from the school.
[Course registration successful. Below is the list of required textbooks.]
[Course registration successful. Please purchase the following supplies.]
[Course registration successful. Ensure you have the following books ready before classes begin.]
...
If an elective was easy to enroll in, offered high credits, and had short class hours—why would it be available to her? The answer lay buried in the endless emails and the mountain of shopping lists.
At that moment, it hit her: She’d been scammed!
"Lin Zhiyan, have you picked your courses yet?"
Ai Wen’s voice rang out.
Lin Zhiyan wordlessly shut off her smart device and stood up.
"Ugh, I saw so many interesting electives, but they were all snatched up. I only managed to get three," Ai Wen said, looping her arm through Lin Zhiyan’s. Her red hair brushed against her cheek as she spoke in a voice both sharp and sweet. "What about you? How many did you get?"
Lin Zhiyan’s expression was numb. She didn’t answer.
Ai Wen blinked. "It’s fine if you didn’t get any. The first few years are for enjoying campus life anyway."
"No," Lin Zhiyan turned to look at her. "I got all the courses I wanted. My schedule’s packed."
"That’s not so ba—" Ai Wen’s words cut off as her eyes widened. "Wait… you do know you have to buy your own textbooks for electives, right?"
Lin Zhiyan nodded grimly.
Ai Wen’s face softened with sympathy. "Well… I know some seniors who might lend you a few books, but it’s unlikely they’ll have everything. If you need money, I can lend you some. You can pay me back slowly."
Her tone was hesitant, as if worried about bruising Lin Zhiyan’s pride. After a week together, she knew Lin Zhiyan wasn’t easily wounded—yet she still treated her like delicate glass.
"It’s fine. I’ve saved up some money," Lin Zhiyan said with a smile. "Besides, electives don’t start for a while. I’ve picked up a few part-time jobs—should be enough to cover some of it. But if you can borrow any textbooks for me, I’d really appreciate it. I’ll treat you to a meal later."
Relieved that Lin Zhiyan accepted her help, Ai Wen’s freckled face brightened with a grin. "Just buy me a drink! But seriously, working so much sounds exhausting. If it gets too much, come to me, okay?"
Lin Zhiyan laughed. "Why does it sound like you’re offering to take care of me?"
"Huh?" Ai Wen looked surprised, then giggled. "I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but you’d never accept."
She added matter-of-factly, "You seem like the type who’d never bend over backwards for anyone."
During orientation week, all the freshmen had been busy networking, forming cliques, currying favor with the influential and cozying up to the less privileged. Lin Zhiyan, however, remained aloof—not antisocial, but never overly familiar, always polite yet distant.
A week in, Ai Wen was still the closest to her.
That made Ai Wen both happy and uneasy.
"You’ve got me wrong," Lin Zhiyan raised an eyebrow. "I’m not that noble. I don’t do certain things because I can get what I want on my own. If I couldn’t, I’d bend over in a heartbeat."
Her dark eyes still held amusement as she reached out and tucked a strand of Ai Wen’s red hair behind her ear. "Your hair’s so bright. Feels like my eyes are getting scorched every time I talk to you."
Ai Wen’s eyes slowly rounded—unsure whether to be shocked by her pragmatic worldview or flattered by the compliment. After a few seconds, she fumbled with her hair and stammered, "Th-thanks. Your black hair is nice too."
Lin Zhiyan’s eyes curved into crescents.
No need for thanks. They were friends.
Just remember to fork over some cash when I’m broke later.
She thought to herself.
At the time, Lin Zhiyan believed she had two backup plans: a friend willing to splurge and a pragmatic part-time job. But a week later, she realized her preparations were no match for the Central District’s greatest virtue.
What was that virtue?
The answer: copyright awareness.
Lin Zhiyan scoured the entire city, only to find that the books on her list weren’t just expensive—they had no pirated or secondhand copies, whether in holographic smart editions, digital versions, or cheap paperbacks. Whether this was due to stellar copyright enforcement or knowledge monopolization, she couldn’t tell.
The lecture hall for her major course buzzed with chatter, but the professor droned on, unfazed.
Lin Zhiyan took notes with a studious air, though inwardly, she sighed.
One week left until electives began.
The total cost of books and supplies was astronomical—her savings wouldn’t cover it, and her jobs couldn’t advance her that much pay.
Should she pull a grade-school move and pretend she forgot her textbook, then share with a classmate?
Lin Zhiyan glanced around the lecture hall. Single desks. Classmates in department uniforms, yet each accessorized with designer jewelry, luxury watches, or high-end bags. They probably wouldn’t be keen on splitting a book with her.
…Time to squeeze someone for cash?
She looked at Ai Wen, who was slumped over her desk, drowsy.
Ai Wen blinked awake, her green eyes hazy. "Hmm? What’s up?"
Lin Zhiyan said earnestly, "Go back to sleep if you’re tired. I’ll take notes for you."
"Heh, you’re the best."
Ai Wen shut her eyes again.
Lin Zhiyan watched her sleep, gently brushing away the stray hairs stuck to her flushed cheeks. Her fingertips tingled where they touched Ai Wen’s warm skin. She withdrew her hand and averted her gaze.
Ai Wen’s mother was a royal tutor, her father a private university professor. If she was going to leverage that connection, she’d have to do it at the right moment. Like raising a pig—you slaughter it at its fattest.
Her eyes drifted to Li Siheng a few rows ahead. His ash-black hair framed a profile so striking it bordered on ethereal. The light caught him in a way that made him seem like a shadowed beauty, quiet and untouchable.
—Should she join his so-called "project" now? No, being too eager would lower her bargaining power.
Blackmail him for money by threatening to expose his absenteeism? But plenty of privileged students skipped class—clearly, they weren’t worried.
Try getting close to him? Hard to approach, and though he seemed obedient to his brother, something about him felt… complicated.
Damn it, what now?
If all else failed, she could beg the whole class for loans, then drop out and disappear.
Actually, if she was going to drop out, might as well plan a kidnapping instead.
Lin Zhiyan’s mind raced with wild schemes, as if ideology alone could reshape the world. Sadly, after a full day of fantasizing, not a single blade of grass had changed. The United Military and Political Academy remained the same—even the air smelled like capitalism.
The sun set in the west, marking the end of the day's classes.
Lin Zhiyan decided to splurge, paying for a meal with Ai Wen at the school cafeteria, hoping to maybe scrape together some crowdfunding through socializing. But soon, that idea was dashed—the moment they stepped out of the academic building, a voice called out to them.
"Ai Wen."
They turned and quickly spotted a group of students. Behind them, several cars were parked.
At the center of the group was Li Siheng, but the one who had called out to Ai Wen was the person standing beside him. He wore the uniform of the Wealth Management Department—tall, with deep-set features, russet hair, and green eyes that exuded elegance, yet carried the agile, lively energy of a deer darting through the woods.
Le Mang, Ai Wen's cousin, a second-year student in the Wealth Management Department and heir to the royal stationery conglomerate. He had grown up alongside Ze Fei and Li Siheng, and as a result, harbored a deep disdain for Ai Wen. Despite barely interacting with her, he never missed an opportunity to express his contempt.
This time was no exception.
Le Mang’s gaze swept past Lin Zhiyan as if she were nothing more than a fly buzzing around his cousin. His tone dripped with impatience and arrogance. "Where are you headed?"
Ai Wen clutched Lin Zhiyan’s sleeve. "We’re going to the cafeteria."
Le Mang smirked. "With her?"
Li Siheng’s brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent. The others simply laughed in agreement.
Ai Wen looked at Lin Zhiyan in alarm and hurriedly said, "He—he always talks like this, don’t—"
"It’s fine." Lin Zhiyan smiled and met Le Mang’s gaze. "Even people like me need to eat."
Le Mang crossed his arms. "Sure, and then make excuses about having no money to skip the bill? The poor always have so many tricks up their sleeves."
"The poor might have tricks, but they’re nothing compared to the rich and their schemes to hoard wealth." Lin Zhiyan gently peeled Ai Wen’s hand off her arm and said calmly, "It’s alright. You can eat with them. I was just about to head to work anyway."
Ai Wen bit her lip and nodded, only for Le Mang to yank her behind him. In an instant, Lin Zhiyan stood alone, facing the entire group.
Le Mang’s expression was a mix of pity and mockery. "If you want to cozy up to someone, find another poor wretch like yourself. Don’t set your sights on my cousin. Or what—could it be there’s no one else at this school as pathetic as you?"
Li Siheng spoke up. "We should go."
Le Mang finally relented, tilting his chin up, his green eyes gleaming like jade. "Stay away from my cousin from now on."
"Then why don’t you stay away from my friend?" Lin Zhiyan didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on Ai Wen. "See you tomorrow."
With that, she turned and walked away without looking back.
"Why do you always have to pick on her?"
Ai Wen was visibly upset but too afraid to lash out.
Le Mang wasn’t close to her—he only ever used her as a means to humiliate Lin Zhiyan. But given his superior status, she didn’t dare defy him. At her words, he merely glanced at her dismissively. "Are you really that naive? She’s been at this school for how long, and yet she’s never gotten close to anyone—except you. Doesn’t that tell you she’s after your family’s money?"
His lips curled. "Just wait. In less than a week, she’ll start playing the victim, getting you to pay for this and that, until she’s sucked you dry."
"Then why doesn’t she go after you? Your family’s even richer!" Ai Wen couldn’t help retorting. "You’re just taking out your anger on my friend because of your friends!"
Li Siheng lowered his eyes at her words. "You two talk. I’ll wait in the car."
As soon as he spoke, the others also made excuses to leave, leaving only the cousins behind.
"So what if I am?" Le Mang smirked, utterly unbothered. "Do you even know that the deck of cards she ‘found’ at the start of the semester is worth 200,000? It’s the real deal."
Ai Wen was stunned. "What?"
"Still think your little friend is so innocent?" Le Mang crossed his arms. "Whether she stole it, snatched it, or ‘found’ it, the fact that she has something so far beyond her means is suspicious enough."
Beneath his sharp nose, his green eyes darkened with something heavier. "Especially since she ruined our plans."
Had Li Siheng’s publicity campaign succeeded, the private school bill would have progressed, and Le Mang’s stationery empire would have been designated as the official supplier for exams. Instead, everything had stalled—no progress, no promotions, all plans postponed indefinitely.
"You suspect everything and everyone, yet you’re not exactly geniuses yourselves!"
Ai Wen, furious but still fearful, spun on her heel and ran off.
Le Mang, already irritated, felt a fresh wave of scorn but simply turned and headed back to the car. Their relationship had always been distant—today’s exchange was already more than usual.
In the backseat, only Li Siheng remained; the others had dispersed to different cars.
As Le Mang slid into the driver’s seat, Li Siheng asked, "Where’s your cousin?"
"Gone." Le Mang started the engine, indifferent. "Who knows what kind of spell Lin Zhiyan’s cast on her."
Li Siheng said, "There’s no need to pay her so much attention."
"If hatred counts as attention, then I can’t help it." Le Mang raised a brow, his words sharp. "Weren’t you the one who lost out too? Yet here you are, acting like some detached bystander."
Li Siheng paused. "My apologies."
Le Mang shrugged. "Forget it. That’s just how you are. I spoke out of turn."
Li Siheng was the child of a government official—his influence should have far outstripped that of Ze Fei, who came from a chaebol family. But Li Siheng’s mother had harbored an almost pathological dependence on Ze Fei’s mother since childhood, raising him to obey their family without question. Even as an adult, he remained like a puppet in Ze Fei’s hands, indifferent and slow to react to the world around him.
That was why Le Mang treated him with more patience and closeness than he did Ze Fei.
After dinner, they killed some time before night fell.
The sky had darkened completely, the damp wind carrying threads of rain. Under the streetlights, pulse umbrellas flickered like floating clouds.
Lin Zhiyan had just finished her shift and stepped out of the shop. Yawning repeatedly, she headed toward the bus stop. As she turned past a bustling commercial street, she spotted a vaguely familiar car haphazardly parked in front of a club.
—Wasn’t that Le Mang’s car?
The door was slightly ajar, its owner temporarily absent.
Lin Zhiyan debated for a minute whether to report the illegal parking and make Le Mang suffer a bit, but then decided against provoking him. She turned to leave—only to hear a faint, fragile sound in the distance.
Pausing, she followed the noise and soon found a frail, newborn kitten curled up in a cardboard box in a flowerbed. The box had already collected a small pool of rainwater.
Lin Zhiyan stared silently at the struggling creature, acutely aware that someone behind her was watching her just as silently.
Perfect. According to the literary theory she’d studied, saving a cat was a classic way to shape a character—it made readers (or other characters) like them. She should rescue this kitten now, showcasing her kindness, tenderness, and sincerity.
But if she truly wanted to save it, she shouldn’t be saving it now.
Because she didn’t have the money to treat it, nor the time to care for it.
What good would playing the kind, naive role do for her?
Lin Zhiyan crouched down, picked up the cat, and stared at it.
Her gaze lingered for so long that Le Mang’s brow furrowed.
Le Mang decided she was exactly as he’d suspected—a cold, calculating, and cruel woman. And he resolved to save the cat that was inching closer to death under her watch.
How pitiful.
If he’d come down earlier and found it first, he could have saved it himself.
With that thought, Le Mang strode forward, umbrella in hand.
"Hey—"
He opened his mouth, arrogance practically spilling from his green eyes, but before he could finish, she had already turned away, cat in hand. His "hey" dissolved into the rain, shattered by the pitter-patter of droplets.
He froze, then frowned.
Was she saving the cat?
But the way she’d stared at it for so long didn’t seem like the soft-hearted act of a rescuer. Was she planning to hurt it?
Dark suspicions swirled in Le Mang’s mind, but he couldn’t stop himself from following her. He was terrible at tailing someone, so much so that Lin Zhiyan had to slow her steps, afraid he’d lose his way.
After what felt like an eternity—long enough for Le Mang to grow restless, nearly ready to snap and demand where she was going and how much longer she’d walk—she finally stopped.
It was a pet shop, its neon sign dim, the storefront worn with age.
Le Mang exhaled quietly in relief.
At least she wasn’t cruel enough to abuse the cat.
After she entered, he followed, pretending to examine a display case of cats, his back turned to her. The shop was nearly empty at this hour, and within minutes, she was at the front desk.
Le Mang strained to listen, his auburn hair sticking to his face, his expression tense.
He worried she might abandon the cat if the cost was too high.
But what he heard next sent a jolt through him.
"How much does it cost to euthanize this cat?"
Lin Zhiyan asked.
The moment the words left her mouth, Le Mang’s temper flared. He stormed toward her, grabbing her wrist and glaring. "You—"
His voice cut off as he met her exhausted, hollow eyes. Beneath her dark hair, her face was pale and eerily calm. The cat in her arms let out a weak, drawn-out mewl, and she hunched slightly, as if shielding it.
"You—" His anger wavered. "You’re insane. If you don’t want to save it, fine, but who gave you the right to decide whether it lives or dies?"
Lin Zhiyan looked at him, the dampness of the rain clinging to her.
Her voice remained flat. "Do you have the money? Do you want to save it? Or do you just want an excuse to yell at me? To humiliate a broke nobody like me? Go ahead. Money’s the bare minimum for a conscience, and I don’t have any."
Le Mang’s lips parted, then he snatched the cat from her arms, cradling it against himself.
"Then get lost," he snapped. "This cat’s mine now. I’m keeping it, and you’re not laying a finger on my cat!"
Lin Zhiyan raised her hand. Instinctively, Le Mang flinched back, shielding the cat like someone bracing for a blow. But she didn’t react, only reached out slowly to stroke its head before turning away.
Le Mang stood frozen, the absurdity of the scene sinking in. He glanced down at the cat, then back at her, but she was already walking away without a second glance.
Under the night sky, the rain continued to fall.
Yet Lin Zhiyan’s steps were light.
Little cat, you should thank me for finding you a fool with deep pockets.
She smirked to herself.
But then, a voice called out from behind, sharp with irritation.
"Lin Zhiyan!"
Her steps hesitated briefly.
Ah, perfect. Maybe I can find myself a fool too.
She kept walking.
