"Shen Qingyi, a poor student like you who got here through connections has the nerve to sit in the first row?"
Zhao Xiran's voice was neither loud nor quiet, just enough for everyone in the lecture theater to hear.
My hand holding the magnifying glass paused for a moment. The gazes around him were like needles, some were whispering, and some were turning their heads as if they were seeing a good show. The teacher of the appraisal class has not yet arrived, and the classroom is noisy. Zhao Xiran chose this time to attack.
I didn't look back and continued to adjust the focal length of the magnifying glass. It's a waste of my time to argue with this kind of person.
"Why don't you say anything?" Zhao Xiran walked over on high heels, her limited-edition dress dazzling in the sun, "Don't think I don't know, the materials you used to apply for the scholarship are all fake.
