Chapter 200: Pure Evil

“It’s all my own carelessness…” Chen Ting said with a look of regret, “How could I be so clumsy to drop my brand-new phone on the floor?”

Yes, of course you’re clumsy. And you actually dared to provoke me.

Even though I no longer have Brother Qu to back me up, dealing with trash like you is still more than easy for me.

These three painful years have been nothing short of deep torture for me.

Not only did I have to study professional childcare knowledge, but I even had to learn piano and painting.

Watching those pathetic girls study so hard only made me nauseous.

How could anyone actually enjoy this stuff?

What’s the point of painting well? Will people fear you for it?

And what’s the use of playing piano beautifully? Can it make you money?

It seems their lives are set—pathetic and pitiable.

I’m fundamentally different from them. I know exactly what I want.

A strong man can save me countless efforts. Since Brother Qu is gone, I need to find another one.

I got to know some troublemakers at the school gate, but honestly, they’re all too cowardly. I told them to rob someone, and they didn’t even dare—let alone beat someone up.

Finding a truly strong man is incredibly difficult, so I had to take another path.

A rich man.

Lawyers, doctors, businessmen—as long as they had money, they became my targets.

Whether it was designer cosmetics or expensive phones, if they had money, it meant I had money.

I downloaded a bunch of dating apps on my phone and began hunting for my prey.

Honestly, it was much easier than I expected.

As a high school girl, all I had to do was make the first move, and those older men couldn’t resist the temptation.

I made a lot of money.

Meanwhile, those idiots in class were killing themselves studying, only to end up working for someone else. When you think about it, their lives are just tragic.

In just one month, I earned more than they ever would by slaving away—why would I even need a job?

Finally, I got my hands on cosmetics and a new phone.

Makeup made me prettier, and with my new phone, I could take beautiful photos to attract even more money.

Three years flew by. Most of my classmates ostracized me, but I knew it was just jealousy—my cosmetics were endless, and I changed phones frequently.

Even if I doodled with an eyebrow pencil or smeared foundation on the walls for fun, I’d never give any of it to them.

After all, we’re not the same. I’ll have a much better life than them.

The fact that I didn’t slash their faces these past three years was already me being generous.

From now on, I’ll have nothing to do with them. I don’t need their acceptance.

After graduation, I had more time to hunt for targets.

But gradually, I realized this wasn’t working as well as before.

For some reason, most men only met me once, and the money they gave was far from enough for my expenses.

Why was it so easy when I was a student… but not now?

And why were all the men I met now just broke losers?

Some even refused to pay, acting like we were in a relationship.

Who the hell do they think I am?

Thinking they can date me without spending a single cent?

After three days of thinking, I found the answer.

It’s all about *status*.

My current status is terrible—I’m unemployed, which makes me look like some kind of professional escort.

Don’t make me laugh. I’m nothing like those low-class girls. I’m educated. I’m far more refined.

But what kind of status should I create for myself?

After much deliberation, I went home and told the old woman I wanted to become a kindergarten teacher.

She cried again.

It’s really strange—every time I come up with a new idea, she bursts into tears.

She held my hand, saying I’d grown up, promising to fulfill my wish even if it meant selling everything they had.

But I never expected them to actually do it.

They mortgaged the house.

Apparently, my qualifications were too low, and getting into a kindergarten required bribes.

Not that I cared—it wasn’t my money anyway.

As long as I had a legitimate identity, things would get much easier.

After handing the principal 100,000 yuan, I smoothly became a kindergarten teacher.

And there, I ran into one of my high school classmates—my former desk mate, Chen Ting.

But our statuses were different.

She was just a college intern, while I was already a full-time employee.

That’s the difference between us.

She’s not as smart as me. She always takes the hardest path, while I—I take shortcuts.

“Xiao… Xiao Ran?” Chen Ting’s expression was complicated when she saw me. After a moment of silence, she forced a relieved smile. “I never thought I’d see you here. You really do love children, huh? You ended up becoming a teacher after all.”

“Yep,” I replied with a fake smile. “Guess we’re the same now!”

On our first day, Chen Ting and I were assigned to the same class—I was in charge, while she assisted.

I couldn’t understand what was so special about these noisy brats that they needed *me* to take care of them.

During lunch, I sat at the teacher’s desk, scrolling through my phone and updating my profile—I needed to flaunt my new kindergarten teacher status to make myself more appealing.

Before long, Chen Ting walked in, took one look, and frowned.

“Huh?” She paused. “Xiao Ran, why aren’t you helping the kids with their lunch?”

“Why would they need help?” I didn’t even look up, answering dismissively.

Chen Ting sighed, rolled up her sleeves, and hurried over to the children.

When I finally glanced up, most of those annoying kids couldn’t even use a spoon properly—rice and soup were spilled everywhere. One kid wasn’t eating at all, just sitting there crying. So damn irritating.

Why don’t they just die?

“There, there…” Chen Ting gently patted the sobbing boy. “No more crying, okay? Tell me your name.”

The boy mumbled something incoherent.

“Chen Moran, is it?” Chen Ting smiled. “If you stop crying, I’ll tell you a secret.”

The boy sniffled a few times and finally quieted down. “Wh-what secret?”

“I’m also a Chen!” She slowly picked up the spoon and placed it in his hand. “You know what? All the Chens I know never cry during meals. So you should stop too, okay?”

The boy stared at her blankly, silent.

“If you don’t believe me, think about your dad—doesn’t he also have the last name Chen?” Her voice was so gentle that even the other kids quieted down to listen. “Does your dad cry when he eats? As a little man, you should learn to eat by yourself. That’s how you grow up big and strong like him.”

“Mmm…” The boy pouted but nodded seriously.

Disgusting.

I shook my head. Absolutely disgusting.