Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I’m a literature teacher at a university, and Smith Ethan is the CEO of a tech company. We were high school classmates.

I became an orphan when I was just two months old. I survived on state support and later went to school with the help of kind-hearted donors. If there’s one thing that could change my fate, it must be studying. Only by studying diligently could I climb out of my humble beginnings. So I devoted all my energy and passion to my studies.

Smith Ethan, on the other hand, was like a young master from a wealthy family. He wore school uniforms that cost 80 yuan, sneakers worth several thousand, and a schoolbag that was nearly ten thousand yuan.

High school students were still innocent and didn’t take money too seriously. What really made him the center of attention was his looks. Among a group of high school students who were worn out from studying, Smith Ethan stood out with his cleanliness and handsomeness, like a misfit. Yet he was low-key and restrained, gentle and polite to others, never using his background or appearance as a way to show off.

It turned out that not all rich kids were as arrogant and foolish as those portrayed on TV. On the contrary, they often had easier access to a good education. Good-looking, rich, and with a great personality—this world really is unfair.

Someone like him and I should have never crossed paths. When he went to play basketball with his classmates, I buried myself in solving problems in the classroom. When he dined at restaurants where a simple meal cost over a thousand yuan, I drank free soup in the cafeteria. When he was picked up by his driver and taken back to the most expensive villa area in the city, I reviewed my lessons by the light in the dormitory corridor.

Even though we spent more than ten hours in the same classroom every day, we never had a real conversation—until a summer study tour organized by the school in our second year of high school.

The itinerary of this study tour almost included all the museums and memorial halls I’d been longing to visit. Since I started school, I’d never spent a penny beyond what the school required, trying my best not to be a burden to the country or society. Even though this study tour was my dream, I had to give up in the face of the cost.

When the class committee was counting the number of participants, I carefully signed my name in the "giving up" column. As I turned around, I almost bumped into a male classmate, but he quickly held me steady.

"I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention," I said.

I looked up and our eyes met. Seventeen-year-old Smith Ethan had clear, bright features, as clean and pure as a handful of snow. Perhaps amused by my clumsiness, there was a faint smile in his eyes. He let go of my wrist, gently said "It’s okay," and walked past me to sign his name.

Back at my desk, I felt my ears burning for no reason.

The next morning during self-study, the head teacher called me out. He was a short, chubby middle-aged man with a caring heart, often chatting with students, so I wasn’t surprised.

"Aren’t you obsessed with museums and historical sites? Is it a financial problem?" He knew my situation well since I received the poverty grant every year.

The wind blew in the corridor, and I tucked the stray hair that fell in front of my eyes behind my ear.

"It’s fine. I can visit them later. Please don’t pay for me," I said.

Looking at my stubborn expression, the head teacher’s eyes showed a mix of emotions—seemingly relief and pity. He nodded. "Self-reliance is a good thing. With such determination, I don’t have to worry about you. But youth is precious; it’s better not to leave regrets."

He handed me a piece of paper. "My cousin’s child is looking for a tutor who can help with all subjects. Why don’t you give it a try? Just don’t let it affect your own studies."

I took the paper and unfolded it—it had an address on it. Fortunately, studying was something I was good at.

"Thank you, Teacher," I said, folding the paper and putting it away. "I’ll do my best."

On the weekend, I took a bus across the entire city to a villa area on the other side. The head teacher had already informed the employer, so the security guard let me in after verifying my identity.

As I walked along the clean street, I remembered that Smith Ethan’s family also lived here. I wondered if I might run into him taking out the trash.

When I reached the employer’s beautiful French-style villa and saw who opened the door, I froze. Smith Ethan was wearing a white T-shirt and sweatpants, with slippers on his feet. He looked a little surprised when he saw me.

"So you’re my tutor?" he asked.

I was still in my worn-out school uniform, carrying a schoolbag I’d haggled down from 30 yuan to 18 yuan at a street stall, standing at the door. Having changed out of his cheap, baggy school uniform, he walked out of that beautiful French villa—he looked so pleasant, like a character from a youth idol drama.

Dazed by his striking charm, I blurted out, "So you’re the head teacher’s cousin’s child?"

Smith Ethan looked confused. "Is that what he told you?"

And that was the start of our story.