Chapter 73: Overestimating Oneself

That seat was tucked away in a remote corner, so isolated there wasn't even anyone to talk to. With so many empty spots available at the front, they refused to let her sit there—instead, it felt as if she were being banished to the frontier.

However, this suited Qingqing perfectly.

The bespectacled senior continued his lecture about Yan-style calligraphy. When he finished, he assigned homework to everyone.

"Now, everyone start practicing Yan-style characters. Each of you, fifty large characters. Oh, and the new student—do you have any foundation in calligraphy?"

Qingqing was called by name.

"No, I don't."

A glint flashed behind the senior's glasses. "If you don't, then you should work even harder. You’ll write a hundred large characters."

It was obvious to Qingqing that the bespectacled senior didn’t seem to like her. Still, a hundred characters was no problem.

"Alright, senior."

He waved his hand. "Begin. If anyone can't finish, don't bother coming to the club tomorrow."

Everyone started writing.

...

The bespectacled senior walked to the far end of the corridor outside the classroom, took out his phone, and dialed a number he knew by heart.

Excitedly, he said, "Yini, the girl who bullied you yesterday—Qingqing Shi—she actually joined my calligraphy club today! It's fate, I tell you! Haha!"

Yang Yini’s voice came through the phone, "That wretch! Hmph! Doesn't she always go feed pigs after school to earn money whenever there's a club activity? Every time she comes back to class, she reeks of pig manure..."

"Heh, Yini, don’t worry. She bullied you, I’ll get back at her for you. A pauper like her, just because she’s exchanged a couple of words with Zhan Shao, thinks she can go against you—she’s overestimating herself," Deng Hui pledged, eager to please.

Yang Yini praised him twice, "A proper poor student who doesn't go feed pigs, but comes to join a club—who is she trying to cozy up to? Good! Make her suffer, let her write until her hand’s swollen. Make sure she can’t stay in the calligraphy club, torment her every day, bully her. She wants to learn calligraphy? In her next life, maybe!"

"No problem. I’m the president of the calligraphy club. As long as she’s here, she won’t have a good time. Let’s have lunch together at noon."

"No, I’m eating with Senior Sheng Chao and the others at noon."

"Yini, about how I feel..."

"Deng Hui! Have you no shame? I’ve told you I’m not interested in you. You’re a toad wishing to eat swan meat! Don’t think that just because you help me deal with Qingqing, you can get ahead!"

"Fine, I’ll ask you another time. Leave Qingqing to me, I’ll definitely handle it for you." Deng Hui didn’t dare insist, but a look of unwillingness shone beneath his glasses.

***

Inside the classroom, Qingqing had no idea she was being plotted against for doing nothing at all.

She wrote as she snatched red envelopes on her phone.

The large characters were entry-level and her writing was crooked.

Truthfully, she’d joined the calligraphy club mainly because it made snatching red envelopes easier. The club was centrally located, surrounded by a dozen other clubs, all within red envelope range.

During major classes, students weren’t allowed to use their phones, but after class and during club activities, it was a free-for-all.

Every desk had a phone on it; everyone openly chatted and wrote at the same time.

Qingqing followed suit. Her four-inch, old-model phone was clearly obsolete, and the only word to describe its aura was “poor.”

But someone who couldn’t even afford a school uniform was already poverty personified. She didn’t mind adding another symbol of destitution to her collection.