By the time I reached the academic buildings, the morning sun had fully risen – warm, golden, and completely at odds with the icy dread pooling inside my stomach.
Today was my first real day of classes.
My chance to start fresh.
My chance to blend in.
My chance to pretend I was not the "foreign girl with the XuanTech card who arrived in Lin Xuan's Mercedes."
Except…
Someone was already waiting for me by the door of the Liberal Arts Building.
A girl with shiny black hair, perfectly curled edges, and a designer tote that probably cost as much as my plane ticket here did. She stood with her arms crossed, her manicure gleaming like she had sharpened her nails on diamonds.
And she was staring at me.
Behind her, two more girls waited like backup dancers in a very expensive, very judgmental K-pop trio.
I recognized all three.
From the forum screenshots.
From the whispers.
From the way they stared at Lin Xuan last night like he was the moon and they were tide-locked orbiters.
Chen Yu's friends.
Perfect.
My heart sank a little.
I considered ducking into another entrance, but the girl stepped forward, blocking the path.
"So," she said. "You must be the American."
Her tone wasn't hostile.
It was worse.
It was sweet.
Fake-sweet.
Poison-sugar sweet.
The kind that makes you want to check if there's venom dripping off the glass.
"Yeah," I said carefully. "Allie."
Her two friends exchanged smirks.
"Oh, we know your name," the one on the left said. "It's been…everywhere."
I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands.
"Right. The rumors."
"What rumors?" she asked innocently, flipping her hair. "That you're living in the international dorm? That you like iced coffee? Or that you got dropped off by Lin Xuan in front of half the campus?"
My mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
She smiled. "Relax. We don't bite."
The girl on the right added, "Unless someone asks for it."
Her tone made it very clear that I was currently "someone."
I took a step back. "Look, I'm just trying to get to class."
"Of course," the leader said with an exaggerated nod. "But we thought it would be good to welcome you."
"Welcome? Really?"
Another smirk.
"You're in Shanghai now," she said, stepping closer. "People will pay attention to you. Especially if you wander into places you don't belong."
"I'm just going to class," I repeated.
"And I'm just giving friendly advice," she replied. "Stay in your lane. You might survive the semester."
Her friends giggled.
My skin prickled.
There it was.
The threat behind the manicure.
I opened my mouth to respond – something brave, something witty, something that would make K-Drama heroines proud –
But the building doors opened behind her.
And Chen Yu herself stepped outside.
She was in a pale blue dress today, her hair smooth and glossy, her expression cold as sculpted porcelain. She scanned the walkway with sharp precision…
…until her eyes landed on me.
They narrowed.
Barely.
Subtly.
But enough to send a chill down my spine.
Her friends straightened the moment they saw her, like soldiers waiting for command.
"Allie Reed," Chen Yu said slowly, her gaze sweeping over me with clinical disdain.
"Thought you'd be taller."
I blinked. "Uh…sorry?"
One of her friends snickered.
Chen Yu stepped forward, her every movement controlled and elegant – like she was raised in a world where floors didn't squeak and doors didn't slam.
"I heard you had an interesting morning," she said. "Must be overwhelming for you."
I swallowed. "A bit."
She smiled without warmth. "Campus attention is a fragile thing. You should be careful."
"I will."
"And," she added, tilting her head, "you should understand the difference between being helped and being claimed."
My heart stuttered.
"I don't –"
"Oh, you do."
Her voice was soft as silk, sharp as a blade.
"You have something of his, don't you?"
Her eyes flicked to my pocket.
To the card.
I froze.
Her friends actually leaned forward, like they were waiting for the next episode cliffhanger.
"I don't know what you think –" I began.
"Don't pretend to be stupid," Chen Yu cut in. "It won't help you here. You accepted something that isn't meant for people like you."
My breath hitched.
"People like me?"
She smiled wider. "Foreign. Temporary. Replaceable."
Her friends let out little gasps, like watching a firework show made of insults.
Something inside me tightened – anger, humiliation, defiance tangled into one.
"I didn't ask for the rumors," I said quietly.
"And I didn't ask for you to show up," she replied.
Then she took one step closer – so close I could smell her perfume, something expensive and icy. Reminded me of the Chanel I used to have as a gift when I graduated High School.
"Here's the thing, Allie. Shanghai may seem big, but this university is very small. People notice everything. And they remember everything."
She tapped the strap of my bag lightly with a manicured finger.
"So do yourself a favor."
Her eyes locked onto mine.
"Don't get involved with Lin Xuan."
I flinched.
"I'm not –" I started.
But she held up a hand.
"I don't care. Just don't. You can't afford the price."
With that, she turned and walked away, her friends following like designer-clad shadows.
The moment they were gone, it felt like I could breathe again.
Barely.
But it was something.
Class, Apparently, Was No Refuge
Inside the lecture room, students filled every seat, chattering loudly in multiple languages.
I slipped into a seat near the back, hoping anonymity might magically return.
It did not.
A girl in the row ahead turned around the moment she saw me.
"Oh my god," she whispered to her friend. "Her. It's her."
The friend peeked over her shoulder. "Really? She looks…normal."
"Right? I expected someone more dangerous."
"Dangerous?" I whispered to myself.
Apparently, being driven to campus by Lin Xuan was grounds for labeling me a national threat.
Class started.
I tried to take notes.
I tried to listen.
But I could feel eyes on me from all directions.
At one point, a girl walked by my desk to "throw something away."
Her target was the trash can.
Her eyes were on my pockets.
The pocket holding the crane card.
My headache pulsed.
Please ring, I silently begged for the end-of-class bell. Please free me from this social prison.
Forty minutes later, freedom came with the sweet sound of dismissal.
But the moment I stepped into the hallway—
Someone touched my arm.
"Chicago!"
I turned.
Lu Feng jogged up to me, a sketchbook tucked under his arm and a cheerful grin on his face.
"Oh, thank god," I said before I could stop myself.
He blinked. "That good of a day, huh?"
"I've been verbally stabbed six times, and class hasn't even ended."
He laughed. "Welcome to SIU. Want me to escort you to your next class before another pack of wolves circles you?"
"…yes."
He slung an arm around my shoulders and leaned down conspiratorially.
"Listen, Chicago. Don't let Chen Yu and her glittering army bother you. They're all bark, no bite."
"Pretty sure she bit."
"That was nibbling."
We turned a corner, and he stopped suddenly.
Lowered his voice.
"Look," he whispered.
I peeked.
Down the hallway, Chen Yu and her girls sauntered past a group of freshmen. The freshmen practically bowed in their presence.
Lu Feng sighed. "Okay, maybe a little bite."
"You think?" I muttered.
He patted my shoulder. "Relax. You're with me. People don't mess with my friends."
"Lu Feng," I said, "literally everyone is staring at us right now."
"Good," he said brightly. "Let them."
I stared at him.
He winked.
Okay.
Maybe having one loud, ridiculous, talented friend was helpful.
"Come on," he said. "We have art theory together. First class bonding moment."
I followed him down the hallway, and for the first time that day, the whispers dimmed.
Not gone completely.
But quieter.
Manageable.
With every step, the intimidation of the morning faded just a little.
And as we reached the classroom door, Lu Feng nudged me lightly.
"By the way," he said casually, "I saw your sketches on the forum."
My heart dropped. "WHAT?!"
He laughed. "Relax! Someone saw you drawing at orientation and posted that you 'look like you draw manga.' No actual sketches."
My face burned.
"Oh god."
"Hey." He bumped into my shoulder. "Be proud. We're artists. And soon, they'll remember you for that – not because a billionaire heir gave you a shiny card."
I looked down at my pocket.
At the weight pressing against my leg.
"Maybe," I whispered.
But in my heart…
I wasn't so sure.
Not yet.