Once again, I was alone in the dorm room—finally free to think in peace.

That mature-looking girl’s glare earlier felt murderous. And the words, the attitude of the girl who stood up for me… Could the mature roommate really be one of the people who bullied little Su Xiaoxi?

Just a tiny possibility.

“Ugh, the biggest problem’s still unsolved. Why overthink it?”

I patted my cheeks lightly and sat up.

What was the biggest trouble? No question—it was one thing. Put seriously: a lack of basic survival resources.

Put plainly: food, clothing, shelter, transport… daily essentials like rice, oil, sauce, vinegar, tea. Not to mention skirts and panties.

Well, since I’m a girl now, clothes *do* matter, right?

Bluntly? I had no money. It was already noon—and I didn’t even know how I’d eat.

Remembering my college dorm days, I pulled open the bedside drawer with a flicker of hope.

Please, heavens…

A few green bills gleamed inside.

“Fifty, twenty, five… seventy-seven yuan total,” I murmured, rubbing the crisp notes. “Not bad. Should last a week.”

I’d long known Su Xiaoxi’s family wasn’t well-off. Why else would a family of three take the bus home so late? Her closet held cheap clothes too—I’d worked retail before; I could feel the quality gap just by touch.

No counting on inheritance. Finding “home” might mean inheriting rent debts and liabilities.

So yeah, no rush to return. This summer: find a part-time job with staff housing. If not, stay in the dorm. Rules aside—I’d explain to Auntie Zhang. She’d understand.

“Job hunting… part-time work suits me best.”

I powered up my laptop, opened local job sites. Plenty of scams, but most listings were legit.

As a seasoned adult, I wouldn’t fall for traps. First cut: all “XX Digital,” “XX Education”—fly-by-night WeChat shops renting cheap offices. Hard pass.

Why? Terrible pay. Being on-call for customers 24/7 via phone? Might as well stream.

Just as I focused on the screen—

“Xiaoxi, what are you up to?”

Eep!

How do you all walk *silently*? Can you really enter a room without a sound?!

“‘69 Tongcheng,’” the side-ponytail girl murmured, her hair brushing my shoulder. “Looking for summer work?”

She’d sat flush against me the second she entered. Clearly close. I needed to learn her name—and everyone else’s—fast.

“Mm, yeah.” I kept it short. No need to explain. College students taking summer jobs? Totally normal. Even just for experience.

“Watch your schedule,” she said, hugging my arm. “Don’t forget the club’s cosplay event mid-July.”

Cosplay? So I’m in the anime club too? But when I can barely afford lunch, work comes first.

“I’m sorry—I *have* to take this job,” I smiled apologetically. “If dates clash, I’ll apologize to the president.”

*This* Su Xiaoxi would work till collapse, suffer heatstroke, faint on the spot—before wasting work time on cosplay.

“Eh? No way! We promised—it’s only a few days!” She shook my hand pitifully. “And… you’re skipping the appearance fee?”

*Appearance fee?* I arched a brow, feigning indifference. “How much?”

“The president said you get leftover sponsorship cash plus a red envelope—for sure four digits,” she answered honestly. “Not job money, but for a few days? Pretty generous.”

*Generous?* Downright lavish. She was probably a rich kid numb to numbers. I wasn’t.

Here, flyer duty paid max 80 yuan a day. Most gigs: 60–80.

But *this*? Minimum 1,000 yuan. Hundreds *daily*.

My vow vanished. After a beat of fake hesitation:

“Okay. Once I land a job, I’ll save vacation days and swap shifts.”

*Four-digit appearance fee… so tempting—wait, I mean, so much!*

Good things come in pairs. Scrolling back, I spotted an ad that made my heart skip:

**Requirement: Females only.**