After Saving My Possessive Best Friend, I Couldn't Escape (GL) - Chapter 4

Leaving Ye Yu’s dorm, Fang Zhile went to the cafeteria to buy a bun, eating it as she walked back to her own dormitory.

She and Ye Yu were both eleventh graders (High School Year 2), but Ye Yu was an art student while Fang Zhile was an academic track student in the advanced class. Her dormitory was at the other end of the field, closer to the classrooms.

Chunyang High School was a private school, but its teaching staff was incredibly strong. It was rumored that through years of close exchanges with many universities and offering hefty annual salaries, the school attracted many excellent teachers. As a result, its educational resources were extremely rich, and its undergraduate acceptance rate had soared.

Although Fang Zhile was a cannon fodder character in this book, she was an ambitious one. Her family was poor growing up, so she studied desperately, earning a spot in Chunyang High School with her city-wide top ten score, for which the school even subsidized her tuition. This set her apart from the students who paid exorbitant fees to attend.

Most students attending were wealthy, but that didn’t mean the school’s facilities were advanced; on the contrary, everything gave off a vibe of “We are poor” and “We are simple.”

Fang Zhile sighed softly as she tossed the bun wrapper, which had hardly any filling, into the peeling trash can. In this aspect, it was quite similar to her previous high school.

After returning to the dorm and rinsing her mouth, Fang Zhile was about to review her eleventh-grade coursework when she saw her desk was completely taken up.

The advanced class dorms housed four people with bunk beds over desks. Each person had their own small study area. At the moment, Fang Zhile’s desk was covered with leftover meal containers and plastic bags filled with food scraps.

“Whose trash is this? Clean it up.”

Fang Zhile called out in the dorm.

Two of the three other girls were lounging on their beds playing with their phones, and the third, not playing a computer game, was sitting below, furiously typing on her keyboard and flaming her teammates.

They were all immersed in their screens, and no one paid her any attention.

Fang Zhile raised her voice again and loudly knocked on the desk. “Whose cheese baked rice is this? Clean it up.”

She used the same volume and force she used when reciting patriotic poems on stage in elementary school, ensuring her voice was full and strong, vibrating throughout the dorm so everyone could hear.

This time, the girl playing the game looked up at her, frowned, and said, “Why are you shouting? What does it matter who ate it? Just clean it up yourself.”

Fang Zhile took a deep breath and stared back, her tone cold and hard. “Then let me rephrase that. Who ate at my desk?”

Fang Zhile looked back at her desk. Her mandatory Math 3 textbook was being used as a placemat, stacked under the baked rice, and was stained with a few drops of liquid that looked like cola.

“You’re so annoying,” the keyboard girl suddenly spoke up. “I ate it. Your desk was the only one with nothing on it. What’s the big deal if I used it for a moment?”

By now, the attention of the other girls in the dorm was drawn to the situation.

They couldn’t understand why Fang Zhile, usually silent, meek, and antisocial, had suddenly spoken up today.

Fang Zhile always had the least amount of spending money, so she rarely bought anything unnecessary for her studies or life. Her desk was perpetually neat and tidy, holding only a few books.

In contrast, the others’ desks were cluttered with computers, cosmetics, tablets, keyboards, and other random items, leaving no space free.

Fang Zhile glanced around and sneered, “What, you couldn’t dig out a spot to eat in your own piles of trash, so now you’re mad I haven’t thrown out all your garbage yet?”

The girls froze, still processing her words when Fang Zhile cranked up the heat and continued to fire insults.

“Eat if you want to eat, starve if you don’t. Don’t touch my desk, and don’t touch my books. If you’re really desperate, and you can’t find space, eat on the floor. Trash should be thrown on the floor, shouldn’t it?”

As she spoke, Fang Zhile found a large garbage bag, swept all the trash on the table into it, and held it up.

“Fang Zhile, what do you mean by that!” The keyboard girl, whose name was Liu Mei, sprang up from her chair. Her eyes blazing with anger, she glared at Fang Zhile, ready to strike.

Fang Zhile walked toward her. As Liu Mei raised her arm to push her, Fang Zhile sidestepped, then grabbed the girl’s collar with one hand and fiercely yanked her forward.

She had verified this when she transmigrated: the Fang Zhile in the book came from a poor family and often did heavy labor, having plenty of muscle in her arms. This move directly “lifted” the girl right in front of her.

Liu Mei was short, estimated to be only five feet tall, making her appear no taller than a trash can next to Fang Zhile, who was five foot seven.

Fang Zhile held her with one hand, the collar taut against the back of Liu Mei’s neck, and with the other hand, she casually tossed the bag of garbage onto Liu Mei’s chair, as naturally as throwing trash into a bin.

“My apologies, I misspoke,” Fang Zhile’s reflection, distorted in Liu Mei’s flushed, angry eyes, suddenly smiled, and she opened her hand like a devil.

Liu Mei immediately tumbled to the floor. The blood rush and dizziness made it impossible for her to stand up right away.

Fang Zhile’s cold, calm voice drifted down from above, utterly devoid of warmth. “Trash shouldn’t be thrown on the floor; it should be thrown in the trash can.”

Fang Zhile glanced down at her, turned around, and left. “Remember to sort your garbage.”

Their movements were too fast, and since Fang Zhile only “lifted” the girl and didn’t engage in much physical fighting, by the time the other two girls climbed down from their beds, Fang Zhile was already back at her desk working on practice problems.

The girl who first told Fang Zhile to clean up the trash herself checked on Liu Mei, then walked up to Fang Zhile with a frown, sharply accusing her, “Fang Zhile, how dare you lay a hand on Liu Mei!”

Her words were full of disbelief and strong malice.

Fang Zhile didn’t even turn around, responding calmly, “I merely put the trash back where it belongs.”

Fang Zhile’s answer was too nonchalant; it was like pouring hot oil on a fire—a masterclass in provocation.

“I swear, we’ll make sure you can’t leave this dorm!” The girl—Li Zi—rushed forward, about to strike, when the third girl, who hadn’t spoken yet, held her back.

“Li Zi, we’re supposed to go out to eat with Sister Meize this afternoon. Don’t start a conflict with her. What if you get hurt?”

The name Zhou Meize instantly cooled Li Zi down. She shot a hateful glance at Fang Zhile and threatened, “Why are you acting so arrogant? She better wait for me. I’ll deal with her after today.”

“She’s arrogant because she has a reason to be,” the girl breaking up the fight, Sun Li, spoke slowly, her tone nasty. “Didn’t you know? Someone saw her practically dive onto Ye Yu in the water room.”

Fang Zhile paused her test-prep work.

“I bet,” Sun Li’s gaze lingered on Fang Zhile’s back, a mix of gossipy interest and contempt. “She latched onto Ye Yu’s leg, and now she’s so cocky she looks down on us.”

“Sister Sun Li, is that true?” Liu Mei, having just clambered up from the floor, heard this news and immediately rushed over to ask, completely forgetting her neck pain. “She really bumped into Ye Yu?”

Sun Li gave Fang Zhile a disdainful look. “Absolutely true. This kind of person attracts their own kind. Ye Yu is delusional, chasing after Sister Meize for two years, and Sister Meize is practically sick of her, yet she still throws herself at her. I suppose some people are the same mold as Ye Yu, wanting to cling to others. Who knows if the other person even wants her.”

Fang Zhile’s pen tip froze on the paper, punching a neat circular hole through it.

Li Zi also started laughing, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s not necessarily true. Maybe Ye Yu is a fake prude, too, always putting on a sour face. Maybe she and some people just share the same bad odor and hit it off, hahahaha—”

The laughter cut off like a chicken being strangled.

Fang Zhile’s dark, gloomy face appeared before the three malicious, laughing faces.