Chapter 7: Did I kill your horse or something?

Nanyun County wasn’t big—a tourist town with a permanent population of just over 600,000.

The place was known for its so-called “local specialties”: ceramics, wood carvings, dried fruits, candied snacks, and other goodies.

But honestly, they were more like man-made specialties—products the locals had decided to make famous.

When it came to actual craftsmanship, their ceramics and woodwork didn’t exactly hold up against the real pros elsewhere.

Still, at least they avoided the constant turf wars.

You know, like those two cities that both claimed to be the capital of ceramics. Or those few that fought over who made the best wood carvings.

Always arguing online every other day—boring.

But hey, this was a tourist city. If there weren’t any real specialties, they just made some up.

At a breakfast stall with a long-standing reputation, Xia Hua sat at one of the street-side tables set up by the owner.

As she wiped the sweat from her brow, she called out, “Boss, one bowl of peanut soup and two meat buns!”

“Coming right up!” the boss replied enthusiastically.

“Though the peanut soup still needs a bit of time.”

He looked at her and added, “You’re up early, kid. Not many young people get up to exercise these days. You want the soup with extra sugar or regular?”

“Less sugar,” Xia Hua replied.

“Got it!” The boss went back to his busy routine.

The meat buns were one yuan apiece, and the peanut soup was one yuan fifty.

Peanut soup was just better than soy milk—no arguments allowed.

Unfortunately, stalls this honest were getting rarer and rarer.

In fact, Xia Hua never again found meat buns for one yuan each, or peanut soup for one-fifty.

“Your business doing well?” she asked, nodding toward the internet café across the street.

The sky was getting brighter, and now and then, young kids with guilty looks would sneak out the back door.

“Eh, not bad,” the stall owner chuckled.

“But a while ago, the cops raided that place.”

“Was that their first time?” Xia Hua asked suddenly.

“Huh?” The owner was surprised—she seemed unusually interested.

Slowing his hands a bit, he replied, “Yeah, first time. Why?”

“No reason,” Xia Hua said, a little disappointed.

In her hazy memory, she vaguely recalled it being a summer day in her second year of high school when the café got shut down.

She’d only wanted to buy a cheap secondhand computer.

But looking back, maybe it wasn’t necessary. Might as well just build one herself.

I might look like one of those broke backpacker kids, but I’m definitely not as dumb as one.

I may not know my lipstick shades…

But you really think I don’t know the basics of computer specs?

After finishing breakfast, Xia Hua kept calculating in her head.

“I’m thinking of building a whole PC—monitor included—on a 1,000 yuan budget. It’s tight. Real tight.”

“But doable.”

“If I’m not trying to play games, then it’s fine.”

“A used i3 CPU for a few dozen bucks? Done.”

“Graphics card? What, are we dreaming now? The integrated graphics will do just fine.”

“Even the motherboard can be a used one.”

“And why bother with a case?”

“It’s not like I’m planning to pass this down to future generations.”

“The monitor might be the most expensive part. Gotta go secondhand—no more than 200 yuan.”

“Heh heh…”

After crunching the numbers, she realized—she might even have some budget left?

She used to scoff when she heard tech nerds on forums saying you could build a rig that ran mainstream games for just 1,000 yuan.

“That junk? You call that usable?” she’d mock.

But now that she’d become one of those trash-picking tech bros herself—

Turns out, for just a basic office setup…

1,000 yuan was almost too much.

She realized she could even upgrade to a used i5 processor, grab a secondhand RAM stick, a decent motherboard, a budget monitor…

And who knows, maybe some kind soul online would throw in a used keyboard and mouse too.

Just like that, the computer problem was solved.

Once she became a broke traveler, she instantly turned into a frugal queen.

Truly, iconic behavior. (Because I’m broke.)

Long live the Tech Bro gods.

Back at her place, Xia Hua hummed a little tune as she took a quick cold shower.

When she came out, it was already past six.

While rubbing her hair dry with a towel—losing quite a bit of hair in the process—she muttered, “Better head to school now, or that slave driver Zhou will start using me as a role model again.”

“That guy’s seriously messed up. Most people at least rotate which sheep they shear—Zhou just grabs me and wrings me dry. And he’s always saying it’s ‘for my own good.’”

“Bullshit. He’s just picking on me because I’m easy to push around.”

Just thinking about her homeroom teacher, Zhou Qing—nicknamed “Zhou the Skinflint”—made Xia Hua start cursing under her breath.

She really did want to be a respectful, rule-abiding student.

But some people just weren’t worthy of respect.

Xia Hua had followed school rules to the letter—arriving not just on time, but even a few minutes early.

But the moment she stepped into the classroom, she felt the atmosphere shift.

Today’s morning study period just so happened to be Zhou Qing’s supervision day.

The moment he laid eyes on her, his face turned stormy like she’d murdered his mother or something.

Bang!

A furious slam came from the podium at the front of the class, instantly silencing the usual murmur of morning reading.

Welp, someone must’ve pissed off Zhou again.

But Xia Hua wasn’t the same fragile kid she used to be.

She figured she hadn’t done anything wrong, so she didn’t think too much of it.

Probably just someone else’s unlucky day.

“Xia Hua, come here,” Zhou barked, pointing at her, eyes burning with rage.

“F**k—” Seriously? Again?

Wait, why did she say “again”? …Well, she was kind of used to this by now.

Xia Hua walked up to him with a calm expression, not the least bit afraid.

Standing in front of the podium, she held out her hands with an innocent look and asked, “Teacher, I wasn’t late today. In fact, I got here a few minutes early.”

“Are you going to praise me or something?”

“If so—”

“Then you really didn’t need to make such a dramatic entrance.”

“I’d be embarrassed.”

Zhou Qing was so furious, his mustache practically curled.

What the hell had gotten into Xia Hua today—did she eat bear liver and leopard gall for breakfast?

When someone who’s usually meek and obedient suddenly stops playing along and starts talking back, it hits differently.

It makes you furious—because it makes you feel like you’ve lost control.

That’s just human nature.

Right now, Zhou Qing felt completely humiliated.

He slammed the desk again and shouted, “I’m not talking about being late! I’m asking you why you skipped gym class yesterday. Are you trying to be some kind of delinquent?!”

“Eh?” Xia Hua blinked, momentarily stunned.

She turned to glance at the class sports rep, Chen Kailun, who immediately dropped his gaze and avoided eye contact.

A moment’s thought was all it took for her to understand—figures.

Some people’s voices just didn’t carry weight.

Still, it wasn’t Chen Kailun’s fault. If he helped, great; if not, no hard feelings.

She didn’t expect anything from him anyway.

Xia Hua shrugged and said to Zhou, “I’m not trying to be a truant. I told the class rep I wasn’t feeling well, so I went home early. What’s the problem with that?”

“You didn’t ask me for leave,” Zhou barked.

“You weren’t even at school yesterday afternoon. Who was I supposed to ask?” she retorted.

“You—!” Bang bang bang! Zhou slammed the desk again and again in frustration.

Then, with a twisted smile, he sneered, “So you say you weren’t feeling well? Did you go to the hospital? Do you have a doctor’s note or any medical records? If you do, bring them out—and I’ll pretend this never happened.”

“I don’t have a doctor’s note,” Xia Hua admitted honestly.

“Ha—” Zhou Qing nearly burst out laughing in triumph, but then Xia Hua added, “Unless, of course, you’re willing to pay for the check-up. I can go get a medical report right now if that helps.”

Zhou Qing’s face turned livid once again.

He realized Xia Hua wasn’t afraid anymore—she’d grown bold enough to talk back.

But she was still just a student.

And in his mind—if he said she was wrong, then she was wrong.