Looking at Julia soft smile, Jason once again felt that the donation had been worth every penny.
To be honest, the benefits he'd reaped from that single act of "philanthropy" had long exceeded 10 million dollars in real-world returns—network connections, prestige, social influence, and, of course, emotional dividends like this one.
As Julia smiled up at him, her gentle eyes curving slightly, Jason couldn't help but think that while the system in his head was annoyingly smug, its rating of 9.1 out of 10 wasn't exaggerated. It was almost too effective.
Julia's beauty, he thought, was easily on par with Shenna's. Perhaps she wasn't quite as compared to Shenna—but that height was already perfect for a woman.
Maybe it was her skin tone too—fair and soft, though not quite as smooth as Shenna's, who used luxury skincare products every day. Julia's hands bore faint traces of work, a bit rougher at the fingertips. Perhaps those were the tiny flaws that made her score 0.2 points lower in his system's beauty metrics.
After Julia gave that sweet, heartwarming smile, she said, "If you like them, Jason, I'll ask my grandma to send more next time."
Jason waved his hand casually. "That's too much trouble. No need. From what you said earlier, your family's business is doing better now?"
Julia nodded, her expression softening with relief. "Yes, much better. My dad's surgery went really well—he's recovering faster than the doctors expected. Now that the factory's picking up again, we can finally afford his rehab expenses. The debts we owed are being paid off little by little."
Hearing her speak so calmly about something that must have been painful and exhausting, Jason felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Her words were steady, but they carried a kind of quiet endurance.
She wasn't pretending to be strong; she was strong.
He thought back to her story—her father had once been a successful business owner but spent nearly everything to fund scholarships and charity projects. His health had declined, the family went bankrupt, and most of those he helped never even looked back.
If it were most people, they'd have collapsed long ago—or worse, started resenting their father.
Jason wasn't a saint himself. He could admit it—if it had been his father who gave away their fortune to strangers, leaving the family in ruin, he'd probably have hated him for it.
And yet, Julia… she carried it all with grace. No bitterness, no blame—only quiet gratitude.
At that moment, Jason felt that spending a little money to help her family had been worth it—not for any reward, not for favorability points, but simply because she deserved it.
But now that her family's factory was recovering and business was stable, she probably wouldn't need help much longer.
Julia must've noticed the shift in his expression, because she smiled again—soft, warm, reassuring.
"Don't worry, Jason," she said, her tone light but confident. "We're really doing fine now. I believe what they say—after surviving a storm, there's always sunshine. I'm also not as naïve as my dad was. I won't give to others blindly anymore. From now on, I'll put myself first."
Jason smiled genuinely. "Then congratulations, Julia. I hope things keep getting better for you. You deserve to be happy."
"Thank you," Julia said, her eyes meeting his. "And I hope all your wishes come true too… and that you find someone who really makes you happy."
Jason raised an eyebrow slightly at that—so she'd probably heard the rumors about his messy breakup with Emma. Still, there was no mockery in her tone. Only sincerity.
Then Julia's gaze shifted downward, landing on his shoulder. "Oh—your jacket…" she murmured.
Jason glanced down and realized there was a small tear near the armpit seam, probably from last night's activities with Shenna.
For a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or make up an excuse.
Julia, ever considerate, chuckled softly and said, "I can fix that for you if you'd like. It's just a small tear."
Jason smiled faintly, scratching the back of his neck. "You can sew too?"
Julia nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "When you grow up watching your mom repair everything in the house, you pick up a few things."
Jason watched her with quiet amusement. There was something disarmingly pure about this girl—an honesty that money couldn't buy and the world couldn't fake.
And for the first time in a long while, Jason—the man who saw people as walking "favorability stats"—felt something that didn't have a number attached to it.
It was probably torn accidentally last night—Jason had been a bit too enthusiastic with Shenna. The tear was tiny, barely noticeable, and neither he, Shenna, Grace, nor Olivia had spotted it. He'd only worn the jacket for a day and hadn't bothered to change yet.
With assets in the billions, Jason could easily afford to toss out a jacket after one wear, but that wasn't his style. He could spend money however he wanted—but he saw no reason to be wasteful.
Julia Jennings suddenly said, "Jason, your jacket's torn a little. Why don't you take it off? I can fix it for you."
Jason froze for a moment. Sewing? He hadn't heard someone offer to mend clothes in years. The last person to do that for him was his mother, back when he was still a kid. Later, she just replaced old clothes instead. In today's America, nobody really bothered with needle and thread anymore.
A twenty-year-old girl offering to sew his jacket? That was something else.
Seeing Jason hesitate, Julia added quickly, a faint nervousness creeping into her voice, "I'm pretty good at it. You won't even see the tear after I fix it. Of course, if you'd rather just replace it, that's fine too."
Her voice grew softer near the end. For the first time, she looked a little embarrassed—perhaps realizing how absurd it sounded to offer mending services to a billionaire.
But to her surprise, Jason took off his jacket without hesitation and handed it to her.
"Then I'll take you up on that. Thanks. Let me know when it's done and I'll come get it," he said casually.
Julia blinked, then smiled—small, warm, and genuine. "It's cold without your jacket. Go back to your dorm. I'll bring it to you when it's ready."
Julia Jennings: Favorability +5.
Jason blinked. "Huh? Did your favorability just go up again?" he muttered inwardly. "Girl, you're helping me, not the other way around. You shouldn't be the one gaining points!"
He chuckled to himself. "But then again, a 9.1-point beauty being nice to me for free? Who am I to complain?"
After Julia left with his jacket, Jason went to the dorm manager's office, signed for the meat dumplings she'd dropped off earlier, and headed back upstairs. The dorms were quiet—most students were in class.
He sat down, opened the container, and tore into one dumpling. The flavor hit instantly—rich, juicy, and perfectly seasoned.
"Damn," Jason murmured between bites. "These are good."
He finished one, then another, and by the time he reached for a third, he had a textbook open on his desk. His mind worked like a machine—ever since the system upgrade, his mental focus and memory retention were practically superhuman.
About forty minutes later, his phone rang. The dorm manager again.
"Jason, that girl's back with your jacket," the old man said, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.
When Jason went downstairs, he found Julia standing there holding his jacket, cheeks faintly pink.
"I just realized I forgot to get your contact info," she said shyly. "So I had to ask the dorm manager to call you. Here—it's fixed. Check if everything looks okay."
Jason noticed the way the dorm manager glanced at him—half admiration, half envy, the kind of 'you lucky dog' look that made him want to laugh.
He took the jacket and examined it closely. The tear was completely gone. Not even a trace of stitching could be seen. The work was flawless—professional, even.
"Wow," Jason said, genuinely impressed. "You can't even tell where the tear was. Did you learn this somewhere?"
Julia nodded lightly. "Yeah. My family's from the South. My mom taught me traditional embroidery when I was little. I used to love it, but… after my dad's accident, I didn't really have time to keep it up."
Jason's expression softened as understanding dawned. No wonder she was so skilled.
He looked down at her slender hands—graceful, steady, but marked by faint calluses. These weren't hands meant for hard labor, he thought. If they were cared for, they'd belong on a magazine cover, not holding a needle.
"With this kind of stitching," he said with a smile, "you just doubled the value of my jacket. Thanks—I love it."
Julia lowered her gaze, smiling faintly. Her lips curved in a quiet satisfaction.
Julia: Favorability +5.
Jason sighed softly in disbelief. "Girl," he thought, "you fixed my jacket, brought it back yourself, and smiled when I praised you—and somehow your favorability goes up again? You're making me feel like the bad guy here."
He slipped the jacket back on and caught her gentle gaze. For a brief second, Jason—the man who measured affection in points and profit—felt something that couldn't be tracked by his system.
It was simple, human warmth.
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