It was freezing cold, and I was digging through the school's donation bin for old clothes. The richest girl in class caught me. Shame and inferiority washed over me. But then, she handed me a black plastic bag. "We have too many at home. They'll expire if no one uses them." I lowered my head. I was on my period, using toilet paper as a pad. Inside the bag were brand new sanitary pads. And inside that bag, she also preserved my crumbling dignity. 1 I snuck out at night to raid the donation bin. I didn't want to, but it was freezing. My thin shirt couldn't block the biting winter wind. The bin was designed so clothes dropped to the bottom. If it weren't overflowing with donations, I wouldn't have had a chance to fish anything out. Dignity? That shattered the moment I stood on my tiptoes, reaching into the bin like a scavenger. I finally snagged a thick coat. It was too big, but it looked warm. But when I looked up, my relieved smile froze. Standing there was Chloe, the richest girl in our class. She was a loner, always draped in clothes that cost more than my dad made in a month. She didn't live on campus. I had no idea why she was still here after evening study hall. In that moment, my shame, helplessness, and fear condensed into a single sentence: "I'm sorry, I wasn't stealing, I just..." The donation bin was for poor kids in rural mountain schools. I couldn't finish the sentence. In my heart, it was stealing. She didn't say a word. She just walked over and shoved a black plastic bag into my hands. "Use these. We have too many at home, they'll expire if they aren't used." Then she turned and walked away. She didn't even wait to see if I accepted it. Just shoved it at me. I didn't have time to ask anything. I just watched her disappear into the snow. Years later, whenever I talked about that snowy night, I always said the same thing: "Chloe, you really were a true heiress. So cool." Only after she was gone did I open the bag. It was full of pads. I checked the dates. They were manufactured a month ago. Nowhere near expiring. She walked away so decisively, just to protect my fragile pride. 2 I rarely paid attention to Chloe before. She always seemed high and mighty, keeping everyone at a distance. She didn't even like talking to people. Her grades were above average. On casual dress days, she never repeated an outfit for a month. Naturally, our paths never crossed. But right now, I desperately wanted to thank her. Last night, when I went back to the dorm to wash up, I realized my black pants were stained. Toilet paper just couldn't hold back the flood. I wondered how many classmates had witnessed my humiliating disaster yesterday. I thought, maybe she's not antisocial. Maybe she's just... good. My mom has intellectual disabilities; she couldn't teach me these things. My dad works hard, but he couldn't afford these things. The inferiority of poverty bent my spine and lowered my head. During the break, I cautiously approached Chloe. "Chloe, thank you for last night." She glanced at me. Her eyes flicked to the hem of my shirt. Shame flooded me again. Under my faded school uniform, the coat I scavenged last night was poking out. I knew my face was red, burning all the way to my ears. But she just reached out and pulled my uniform down to cover it. "Nothing to thank me for." She was as quiet as ever. After saying that, she went back to her English worksheet. But after evening study hall, she stopped me. "My mom bought me this jacket and I hate it. It's ugly. We're about the same size, you take it." Her tone was blunt, almost rude. That's why classmates called her arrogant and unapproachable. The bag she handed me contained a brand new down jacket. No tags. I didn't recognize the brand. I tried to refuse. "No, it's too expensive. I found a coat, I have enough." I noticed the sole of my sneaker had a hole. Snowmelt was seeping in, freezing my foot. "Expensive?" She looked at me. "You think I'd wear cheap clothes?" Suddenly, she seemed cute, even with her fierce expression. She was trying so hard to protect my pride, making up excuses she couldn't quite sell, so she just acted tough. I smiled at her. "Can I bring you lunch then?" She hated the cold. I noticed that early on. In winter, she bundled up like a dumpling. I remember someone asking if she skipped lunch to diet, and she said, "I'm afraid of the cold. I don't want to go out." I wanted to do something for her. I started bringing her lunch. A few days later, as I walked into the classroom, someone jeered: "Look, here comes Chloe's servant girl!" 3 High school kids don't realize how heavy words can be. The lunch box in my hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. But I gripped it tight and placed it on Chloe's desk. She wasn't there, so the mockery died down. When she walked in, someone immediately asked, "Chloe, when did Lily become your maid?" Chloe was holding a pair of freshly washed chopsticks. She glanced at me. I was sitting in my seat, head down, terrified to look up. She said calmly, "I hate the cold and didn't want to go out, so I asked her for a favor. What's the problem? Since when is helping a classmate being a maid?" She raised her voice. "Want to go tell the teacher about it?" Her serious expression scared off the gossipers. She walked straight to my desk and slammed an apple down. "I don't like apples. You eat it." I didn't dare speak. I wanted to say thank you. But my poverty-induced cowardice couldn't keep up with this bright, bold girl. What seemed like the end of the world to me was nothing to her. She went back to eating as if nothing happened. At least her food was still hot. I had carried it against my chest all the way. The apple was so sweet. I rarely ate fruit this good. Usually, it was whatever wild fruit we could pick in the countryside. Big, sweet, juicy apples were a luxury. My desk mate whispered, "How did you get in with Chloe?" I couldn't tell the story of that night, so I mumbled, "Maybe she thinks I'm immune to cold?" I wasn't immune. I was just used to freezing. "Makes sense." My desk mate didn't pry, but she added a warning. "She's rich, but you should stay away from her." "Why?" She leaned in close. "You're always studying, so you don't know. Why do you think no one hangs out with her?" She looked mysterious. "She acts like a princess, but money isn't everything. Who knows if it's dirty money?" "I heard her dad killed someone." "A murderer's daughter... what if she's violent too?" "Stay away from her." 4 It was the first time I'd heard this. But true or false, I still thought she was a good person. "I knew you wouldn't believe it. But my grandma lives near her family. Everyone there knows." She whispered conspiratorially, "Don't tell anyone I told you." I hate "I heard." Usually, it's lies. And true or false, I wanted to be her friend. Compared to my poverty, she looked so lonely. The down jacket she gave me was incredibly warm. I didn't understand how something so thin could be so warm. The lunch delivery thing kept causing gossip. I became immune to the word "servant." Even if they said it to my face, I ignored it. Because the heiress gave too much. Maybe Chloe was watching her weight, because she ate very little. Every time I brought lunch, she made me take half. The money I saved on lunch bought me stationery. Seeing her disinterested attitude towards everything, I suddenly asked, "Chloe, want me to tutor you?" Her expression was a mix of shock and something I couldn't read. I kept my grades in the top 50 because I had no other entertainment. And I knew from a young age that education could change my fate. Even though my dad had to care for my disabled mom, he always told me: "Go to school. They say if you study hard, you won't have to live like mom and dad. Dad will find a way to pay." Dad wasn't Superman. He couldn't find many ways. So I got used to scrimping and saving. She looked at me and refused flatly. "No need. My family hired a tutor." I really wanted to ask what kind of tutor kept her grades so consistently mediocre. I thought for a moment. "I won't charge you. I eat your lunch, let me pay with knowledge?" She looked surprised. "But I would have thrown that food away." "It's different," I insisted, face heating up. "Because I help you, I save money on my own lunch." I was young and had pointless pride. My voice got quiet. She thought for a moment. "Fine. Come to my house this weekend after school." Girls are the best. She didn't just give me extra food. She switched to a bigger lunch box for herself.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "386771", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel