My sister quickly found me a part-time job off-campus, working three days a week, starting in September. When I heard that the job paid well and didn't require professional skills, I didn't think much about it and said yes.

A few days later, with the help of my sister, I submitted an application for accommodation to the school, which was quickly approved.

As the worries that weighed on me were resolved one by one, I was finally able to calm down and start dealing with the things that I had put on the shelf.

Unexpectedly, the first thing that came to my mind was the idea of contacting He Xinyi. Based on what I know about Ho Xinyi, she will not help me unconditionally, but I am still grateful for her words.

I wanted to thank her, but I also wanted to ask her why she did it. Even though I knew that I would get nothing but winks and ridicule, I would be willing to humiliate her if there was the slightest possibility of knowing what was going on.

Unfortunately, the results were also unexpected. I don't know when He Xinyi's mobile phone number became empty.

Not only that, but when I tried to add her friends, I was shocked to find out that her account had been blacklisted by her.

At this point, even if I can find her new mobile phone number, I'm afraid she will refuse to answer my call...... Thinking of this, I felt a sense of melancholy.

I knew from the beginning that I would eventually become strangers with my former classmates and old acquaintances. But helplessly, it is more difficult for me to leave this old love behind than them after all.

For example, when I was still haunted by the debt to Ho Xinyi, she had already swept me out of her life.

When I think back to myself in ago, I can't help but feel strange. It dawned on me that my pain had never come from people who were destined to be mere passers-by, they weren't that important.

I just feel aggrieved, after all, I don't deserve to be treated like this at all, after all, they never show guilt, and even, I suspect that they have never been reproached by their conscience.

I don't care what they think of me, but that doesn't mean I don't care what other people think of me.

I know that gossip and slander can affect and even distort my image of those I care about.

I couldn't help but think of the words of the head teacher, it is true that there is no point in discussing injustice, because injustice is everywhere.

The injustice of injustice lies not in its universality, but in its probability. Those who have a poor family background, or do not study well, or are not good-looking, or lack love, are often more likely to be treated unfairly.

Even from a bystander's point of view, I still stick to my original idea, if I could look better, my grades better, and my parents care more about me, I wouldn't be in such a land.

Unlike I used to be, I clearly realized that it was not the slight repercussions of complaining that could get me out of trouble, but as the head teacher said, it would be good for me to get an extra point...... I can't change the people and things around me, the only thing I can change is myself.

Thankfully, I was completely lost, and I was able to do it all over again. That night, when I opened the wardrobe and saw the school uniforms neatly stacked in the closet, I suddenly had a thought: Could it be that He Xinyi tried to prevent me from contacting her because she was afraid that I would force her to return the school uniform?

I couldn't help but laugh when I thought of this. Maybe that's why she defended me...... Although I didn't believe that this frivolous and far-fetched reason could be the whole truth, I convinced myself to keep it simple and not to get to the bottom of it.

A week later, I received a notice from the school that there would be a placement test before the start of the school year. In order to allow me to pass smoothly, during the following holidays, my sister would call me to a coffee shop and take me to practice various fan paintings.

Thanks to my sister's generous teaching, I was able to draw a few barely decent assignments before the exam.

Listening to my sister's praise for my clumsy work in words that were too professional to understand, I couldn't help but feel a little fluttery, and I almost believed that I really had a talent for painting.

I walked into the examination room with the painting tools and confidence given to me by my senior sister, and finally entered the watercolor painting major with the twenty-fifth score in the class.

With the arrival of the golden September, I officially became a college student in the Department of Fine Arts.