Chapter 3
Chapter 3
To withdraw this money, I made an appointment at the nearest bank.
I thought my social media bio could use an update.
985 undergrad | imsb | Jiangsu-Zhejiang mixed-race | A8 assets | learning and growth | self-improvement | college startup.
All those tags were fake.
Only my money was real.
Chi Heng blocked me.
That was expected.
After seeing the sixteen million in my account, I felt relieved once again.
I sent a message to Lu Lin.
“Hey classmate, how much is the copyright fee for your name?”
Lu Lin: “?”
“My ID isn’t for sale.”
“Why are rich people like this?”
I also have a super rare two-character ID.
I rephrased.
“Then let me give you some compensation for emotional distress.”
After all, Chi Heng had used his name fraudulently.
I even went around saying he was my boyfriend.
Tarnished the reputation of an innocent young man.
Lu Lin: “Today is Thursday.”
A modest request, he wasn’t asking for much.
After thinking it over, I transferred eight thousand for the time being.
Half of sixteen thousand.
Having suddenly come into wealth, I wasn’t sure how much was appropriate.
The transfer page showed his real name: “*Lin.”
I let out a breath, then felt a moment of daze.
When I transferred money to Chi Heng,
it showed “*Heng.”
He said there was no money in his account, that it was his dad’s real name, and I believed him.
Who would’ve thought, in this day and age, someone would still use a fake name.
Lu Lin rejected the transfer.
“Actually, I’m not that poor…”
“I have a national scholarship, and my direct doctoral program also gives a stipend.”
“I don’t need to ask you for money.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you, kind stranger.”
Lu Lin:
“Received. Nice guy card +1.”
I felt even more miserable.
There are so many normal people out there.
Why did I have to run into the most subhuman one of all?
Chi Heng has been acting really flashy lately.
In a big university, despite his good looks, nobody outside his major would recognize him.
But now, he’s driving the Bentley he hasn’t taken out in ages.
Doing nothing else but showing off.
Every day, people on the confession wall are trying to find him.
Both guys and girls.
“Is the young master’s company still hiring interns?”
“Asking if Bentley bro has a girlfriend.”
Chi Heng personally replied to the first one: “Yes, we are. You can contact my assistant.”
Damn.
I hate show-offs the most.
The second question was answered by someone else.
“He used to have a girlfriend.”
“Used to? How did they break up?”
“Bentley bro is rich and handsome, how could his girlfriend be dissatisfied?”
“Maybe he was the one who broke it off.”
The insider answered again.
“Well, not exactly. He was the one who got dumped.”
“Precisely because he was too rich.”
No one in the comments section could understand.
Everyone was calling me ungrateful.
I frowned the entire time, scrolling through the very long comment thread, feeling wronged and bitter inside.
My roommate was also following the drama.
She had seen me cry and only knew I had broken up, not the details, and was easily swayed by the comments.
“His ex is really something, turning down such an insane amount of wealth.”
“Manifesting a rich boyfriend. I promise I’ll just take the money and not complain.”
I looked up, met her eyes, and said softly, “Actually, I’m his ex.”
She paused, her expression changing.
“Uh, that guy must have some hidden flaw.”
“What’s with him stirring the pot in the comments? He’s so fake.”
“He’s not even that good-looking. Who knows how he got the Bentley.”
I offered a few explanations, then opened WeChat.
Chi Heng’s messages had been pushed way down.
I furiously questioned him: “What exactly are you trying to do?”
I didn’t see a red exclamation mark.
The message went through successfully.
He had pulled me out of his blacklist.
Having taken his money, I felt obliged. I recalled the message and chose a softer approach.
I took a screenshot of the campus confession wall.
With pictures and text:
“Why are you acting like this?”
The other party is typing…
I stared at it for a moment, thinking it was a waste of time, then switched to do my own stuff.
Deleted hundreds of our couple photos from the album.
Deleted the notes on his preferences from my memo.
I emptied the recycle bin, and suddenly a part of my heart felt hollow.
I sat hugging my knees, waiting for his message.
Half an hour later, a message popped up.
“So?”
Then silence again.
I lowered my head and typed: “I didn’t break up with you because you’re too rich. It’s because you lied to me.”
“Your friend was spouting nonsense in the comments.”
He seemed to be deliberately keeping me waiting.
I replied instantly, yet he took half an hour to respond.
His tone was lazy, indifferent.
“Really?”
“Then go clarify it.”
Clarifying would mean admitting our past relationship.
Admitting that Chi Heng and I had once been together.
Like tearing open a nearly healed wound, binding our two names-which had no apparent connection in the public eye-back together.
I didn’t want to say it.
I was silent for a moment, then poked his profile picture twice.
I nudged “Chi Heng.”
“Keep pretending not to understand human nature, and I’ll do your PPT.”
“You don’t want your PPT spread around the school, do you?”
Chi Heng: “…”
This time he was quick.
I saw his friend’s groveling clarification.
“Sorry everyone, I was wrong. Bentley bro was actually the one at fault. His ex did nothing wrong.”
“?”
“Are you possessed or being threatened?”
My roommate started the pile-on: “Could it be that he was just talking nonsense from the start?”
Others quickly joined in.
“So you can just slander someone without any evidence? You kept implying it was the girl’s fault on every level.”
The tide turned.
Chi Heng asked me: “Satisfied now?”
I left him hanging, didn’t reply.