My Classmate Is a Secret Millionaire, Yet She Sells Street Food with Me

The day the urban enforcement officers came after us, I, Lu Zhi, a top student in economics and management, was crouched on the ground helping my deskmate Su Xiao pick up the coins she’d spilled everywhere. I even draped my school jacket over her handmade jewelry stall. “Pretend you’re waiting for a classmate. They won’t check.”

I didn’t know then that this “poor student,” who wore a washed-out uniform every day and sold hair clips for 25 yuan, was actually the heir to a jewelry conglomerate. She was only selling things to find someone who loved her for herself, not her money. And I, the top student she praised for “knowing how to sell,” would later team up with my dormmates from other majors to help her: the computer science whiz built an online shop system, the law student handled compliance filings, and my buddy on the track team took care of offline operations. Together, we turned her little sidewalk stall into a viral campus creative studio.

When the “Starry Sky” hair clips she designed sell out, she’ll blink at me with wide eyes and ask, “How do you know more about pricing than I do?”

No angst at all! No nasty rival, no family opposition, just the sweet and endearing contrast of “rich heiress deskmate × top-student strategist,” as they go from a sidewalk stall to a studio. After all, who could resist a top student whose eyes are more serious when calculating your revenue than when reading a financial report, and who says, “I want to make a future with you,” when he confesses?