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Chapter 8: As Insignificant as Dust Among Those Who Like Zhou Shubei

Because of Zhou Shubei’s presence, their table became the center of attention. People looked over frequently—some out of curiosity, others with speculation or disdain.

A soda can slid over, drawing the crowd’s focus to Jian Li. The stares made her uncomfortable. She tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to shield her face, then stood up with her tray.

“You guys enjoy your food.” She quickly walked away.

Tan Xueying replied, “Oh, okay.”

Only after she completely left those stares behind did her tense nerves begin to relax. At the sink, she squeezed out hand soap and scrubbed her hands.

“One of the girls sitting with Zhou Shubei is a freshman law student—Zhao Xun’s girlfriend. The other three are probably her roommates. Looks like there weren’t enough seats, so they randomly joined a familiar face at the table.”

“No wonder. Did you see Zhou Shubei hand that girl a drink? If I didn’t know better, I’d think he liked her.”

“No way. With Zhou Shubei’s background—he’s a rich second-generation—he’d obviously go for a wealthy, beautiful girl. Real life isn’t a fairy tale.”

“Exactly.”

The two chatted as they walked, not noticing Jian Li at all.

She was too ordinary, too plain—as insignificant as dust among the many who liked Zhou Shubei.

A sour feeling welled up in Jian Li’s chest as she rubbed the soap between her fingers more forcefully.

“You’ll rub your skin off,” a familiar voice said suddenly.

Jian Li’s heart skipped a beat, as if time had frozen for two seconds in a movie. She turned her head.

At some point, Zhou Shubei had appeared. He shook the empty soda can in his hand to confirm it was finished, then tossed it in a high arc into the trash can with a clatter.

Zhou Shubei opened the hallway window, and a gentle breeze blew in, cooling her face, which had warmed from her stirred emotions.

The faucet was motion-activated. Zhou Shubei held his hand under the tap.

His hands were beautiful—long, well-defined fingers, neatly trimmed nails, faint blue veins visible under the skin. He pulled a paper towel to dry his hands, then bent slightly to look at her again.

“Sorry about earlier, classmate.”

Jian Li blinked. She realized he thought she had been upset by his words. She wanted to say that wasn’t it, but didn’t know how to explain her actions, so she just responded to what he said earlier.

“Mm, I never learned how to do finger dancing.”

At Beicheng University’s orientation performance, her class was practicing an original finger dance. Though Jian Li’s fingers were usually flexible, they became stiff during practice—each finger seemed to have a mind of its own.

She was progressing slowly.

Zhou Shubei raised his eyebrows, apparently surprised. He looked at her wrinkled fingers. “Because of that?”

Jian Li nodded again.

Zhou Shubei chuckled but quickly returned to his usual nonchalant tone. “That’s normal for beginners. Just practice more and you’ll get it.” He still found it ridiculous and funny, so he laughed again. “Stop rubbing. If you rub your hands off, you’ll only be able to perform with glow sticks.”

Jian Li: “…”

After he left, Jian Li looked at her reddened hands. As her emotions subsided, she felt her earlier behavior had been melodramatic and pretentious—especially that absurd excuse.

After a short lunch break, Jian Li refilled her water bottle and headed to the assembly area.

The afternoon training was light. Rain was expected, so it ended early and was replaced with self-study in the classroom. Jian Li stopped by the library. As one of the nation’s top universities, it was packed with academic overachievers. The library was full—some students even sat by the beds, typing while referencing books.

She borrowed two required textbooks, then browsed the foreign literature section. Scanning the rows of books, she couldn’t find the one with the cover she remembered.

“Excuse me, do you have Selected Poems by Wordsworth?”

The librarian checked the computer. “It’s been borrowed and hasn’t been returned.”

Jian Li: “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She returned to class before the bell rang. She liked the seat in the last row by the window—it was far from the podium, backed by a wall, and no one looked at her. Because she was quiet and reserved, no one ever sat beside her. But today, someone did.

She glanced at the guy casually bouncing his leg. It was the boy who had stood behind her during military training.

On the first day of the welcome meeting, years of habit had helped her memorize every classmate’s name and face.

She approached. “Excuse me.”

The boy didn’t move, seemingly engrossed in his mobile game.

The space between desks was narrow, and he was blocking the only way through, not leaving her any room to pass.

The instructor entered and saw her still standing. “Why aren’t you sitting down? Waiting for me to invite you?”

Jian Li exhaled lightly and repeated herself more firmly, “Excuse me.”

Only then did the boy hear her. He stood up and moved aside, grinning, “You should’ve said something sooner. I thought you wanted me to teach you how to play games.”

The class burst into laughter.

Jian Li lowered her eyes and said nothing. She went to her seat and sat down. Her stomach grumbled again—the energy bar had worn off.

“Is that funny?” the instructor asked in a cold tone.

The room fell silent, with only the sound of pages flipping and pens scratching paper.

Jian Li focused on her notes when a crumpled paper ball suddenly landed in front of her, lightly hitting her glasses.

She followed the direction it had come from. The boy from her row was smiling at her, gesturing for her to open it. Most people would have opened it out of curiosity, but she didn’t. She just pushed it aside and continued working.

Before she finished one line, another paper ball hit her head directly.

Her grip on the pen tightened, but she ignored it again.

“Geez, you’re no fun,” she heard the boy mutter.

Just then, a commotion started outside the corridor. Curious students poked their heads out, only to be scolded by the instructor—but some still whispered to each other.

“What happened?”

“Zhou Shubei was called to the student office. Someone reported him for group fighting. His counselor went too. Looks serious.”

“Who did he fight with? Who’d even dare fight him? Aren’t they afraid of trouble?”

“No idea. Sure, the Zhou family’s rich, but some people don’t care. Not everyone is scared of him.”

“If punishments are handed out, he’s definitely dragging his family’s name down.”

“I doubt the Zhou family even cares about him. He’s got two older brothers, right? He won’t inherit Guanghui Group. He’s basically like us.”

The words on Jian Li’s book blurred. Her notes turned messy as all her attention drifted toward the gossip.

“They say it was Dai Jiangtao from the finance department. Apparently, he got beaten up last night on the way back to the dorm—his whole face is swollen. Zhou Shubei really didn’t hold back. No one knows what grudge they had. Dai doesn’t want compensation—just wants Zhou to apologize publicly under the flagpole. Talk about public disgrace for Guanghui.”

“Makes sense. I never believed Zhou was as clean as he looked. I told the girls in our class—they didn’t believe me, said I was jealous. Jealous of what? That he fights all the time and is surrounded by girls? And we quiet guys are somehow the bad ones.”

Humans are strange. Without knowing the truth, they jump to conclusions based on assumptions. One minute you’re a role model; the next, you’re a villain. Everyone claims they hate snobbery, but everyone does it.

Zhou Shubei became the spectacle. The instructor couldn’t suppress the students’ curiosity. When the bell rang, they all rushed out.

The student office was on the third floor of the administration building. Outside, Zhou’s photo was still pinned on the honors board—his name had been there for two years straight.

“He’s been in there a while. Must be serious.”

“I hope he gets punished. He’s too arrogant. Needs a reality check.”

“I doubt it. Rich people care about reputation. Zhou’s family will cover it up. Just watch—by tomorrow, it’ll be like nothing happened.”

“The director is known to be by-the-book, right?”

“Don’t forget—the Zhou family donated a whole teaching building to the school. No matter how by-the-book, connections matter. Some people are just born lucky. No matter how big the mess, someone will clean up after them.”

Jian Li had been on her way to the cafeteria but stopped. She looked up at the third floor.

Through the half-open window, she could barely make out figures moving inside, but no voices—it was like the calm before a storm.

Inside the silent office, Director Kong He looked at Zhou Shubei, who stood by the wall. “Is what he said true? This is a serious accusation—you can’t just brush it off.”

Zhou Shubei remained as lazy and indifferent as ever. “I’ve already said twice—I didn’t hit anyone. But if you’re determined to make me confess, then fine—I did it.”

“Watch your attitude,” Kong He snapped. “Why would he falsely accuse you? Why not someone else? Why choose a blind spot in the surveillance cameras?”

Zhou Shubei was amused by their logic. “Why would he lie specifically about me? Good question. I’d like to know too.” He looked at his phone, which had been confiscated. “You won’t let me call the police. Won’t let me leave. You don’t believe what I say. What, are you all working together?”

“Zhou Shubei!” Kong He slammed the table. “You’re the one in trouble here. Quit your careless attitude. Top of the class, huh? Then stop spouting nonsense and slandering others.”

Zhou Shubei wasn’t fazed. “Just trying to apply your logic—why would I randomly slander you? Maybe you should reflect too?”

Kong He was a typical hypocrite—upright on the surface, petty inside. He loved being flattered. Zhou Shubei was the only one who didn’t bother.

Now that he finally had something on him, he wanted to put him in his place. But even now, Zhou dared to mock him.

Kong He’s face darkened, just as a commotion erupted outside. Looking out, he saw a police car pull up.

“Who called the cops?”

Zhou Shubei picked up his phone. “I did.”

Kong He stared, trying to figure out when Zhou had managed to do it.

Zhou kindly explained, “Before I came.”

“If this is too big for you to handle, let the police deal with it.”

Kong He was about to erupt when someone knocked on the office door.

Suppressing his anger, he said, “Come in.”

The door opened.

“Director, the police are here.”

Zhou Shubei stopped spinning his phone and tilted his head. Standing by the door, giving way to the officers, was Jian Li.

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