"Miss Sandenu, waiting for the family car?"

It's been a while since school was out.

As Miao Anwen walked across the street, she saw the student union president standing in the shade of a tree at the school gate with her small schoolbag and her mobile phone, seemingly waiting for the car from home to pick her up.

Mona kept her head down.

In the curtain.

The hair behind her head, which was always tied meticulously like a wig set at school, was rarely taken off by her and draped over her shoulders, looking like she was troubled by a lot of trouble.

Her depressed appearance was so obvious, and her whole person was shrouded in a low-pressure air mass.

From time to time, a car would stop on the side of the road, and her classmates in the car would invite her to give her a ride, or run over to comfort her.

There were not many people in the school who wanted to make friends with Miss Sandenu.

All of them were politely rejected by Mona, and even waved her hand directly to be perfunctory.

Mona is very conscious of her image in public, and she rarely behaves so rudely.

In fact, except for a few people who can make young girls close.

In the past, she was reluctant to show such an upset appearance in front of many students, except for pursed lips, even obvious emotional ups and downs would not appear.

She was known as the Iceberg Beauty at school.

A girl who grew up in a large family that can distinguish classes by her surname, from the time when she couldn't walk, knew that "decency" was the only meaning of survival.

Mona came to Yangon at the age of six to live and go to school, but only a few holidays were limited, and she returned to her hometown with her business elders.

Her family has a large ancestral field on the outskirts of Bangalore, which is said to date back to the Mauryan period and has remained unchanged for centuries, whether ruled by the British army or Gandhi. Her father proudly told her that their family would own the land until the end of time.

This is nothing at all in India.

It is completely different from the stereotype of "clean and hygienic" and "a glass of Ganges water" left by many people on the Internet. India is perhaps the best country in the world – for a million people in the top 1,000 of the total population, it is.

It has the most developed service industry in the world, the most luxurious hotels.

Unlike many "five-star hotels" in Egypt and Central Asia, which are splendid on the outside and resemble a country guest house on the inside, the luxury hotels in India are really luxurious, with silver tableware, executive dining rooms with Italian bartenders, dressing tables full of luxury cosmetics and bathtubs with rose petals, and one-on-one manservants.

The standard is higher than some of the largest European hotels.

In the same way, luxury cars, luxury restaurants, luxury communities, luxury cars......

Supermarkets, super highways, super aircraft carriers, super bowls, super planes, super projects and superheroes, if people say that narcissistic Uncle Sam likes to crown their country's national symbol with the word "super", even Superman in red pants flying around in the sky has to print "Super" on their underwear.

Indians, then, have an enigmatic interest in the word "luxury".

Even in their national mythology, the origin of the caste "Sandnu" is the golden king plastered with gold.

All the things that mark luxury are really luxurious, and the working environment of the employees in the high-tech companies in Bangalore is no worse than that of programmers in Dongxia, Singapore, and the United States.

Or even better.

In the San Francisco Bay Area, an elite programmer earning 400,000 dollars a year can be heartbroken for a long time to hire a nanny at home, but with the labor cost in India, you can ask a platoon of servants to carry you to work.

The only thing to worry about is.

Once your stratum slips.

Even if the trip is only from a luxury car with a conductor butler to a second-class sleeper car, then there will be no excessive transition from developed life to the living environment of a pre-modern country.

Mona had a spring break because the train was rebooked late, and she followed the adults on a second-class train from Nandi Hill to Bangalore, which was a nightmare.

The bed on the ticket theorized to belong to her, and there were two unknown men, and under the floor of the bed, there was also a man of unknown origin, and she was not even sure if the other party was still breathing.

All the places are sloppy, messy, and a big swath of rambling.

No one checked the tickets. There was no conductor, no air conditioning, and the smell of feces, urine and excrement mixed with sweat, inhaled on the tip of the nose, as if the whole person was in a huge can of expired fermented milk.

The two uncles escorted her and sat in the corner of the carriage for four hours, blocking out all kinds of ill-intentioned eyes from all sides.

Mona had always hated the kind of headscarf that country women had to wear when they went out.

Some men in India wear hijabs because of Sikhism, while women's traditional hijabs are not religious, simply because they need to cover their faces from other men except their families.

From an early age, she saw this as a symbol of backwardness and inequality between men and women.

He also submitted a short essay on Dulwich's group assignment, denouncing the oppression of women's power in this backward society.

But that was the first time in my life.

Mona regretted a little that she didn't have a place to sell traditional saris outside the train station, buy a face towel and get on the train.

I heard that the British Railways newspaper recommended that women carry a large two-inch sewing needle in their carry-on luggage when riding in second- and third-class carriages. This is because at night or when the train passes through a long tunnel, it is used to protect itself from possible encroachments at any time.

But that's the London where Sherlock Holmes and the great detective Polo live.

Year 1880.

Mona will never forget what she saw and heard as a child, her homeschooling.

Heaven or hell.

Master or servant.

Decent or unseemly.

Yes or no, there is no such thing as an ordinary intermediate life, either you desperately try your best to be a superior person, or you just go out and be an inferior person.

This is Mona's worldview.

So she wants to smile forever and be calm and calm forever.

Even if Baba ran forward to meet Mrs. Cruz's dismissive cynicism, she would only run to the corner of the lawn and secretly wipe her tears alone.

Only a calm, well-organized, and general-like girl can gain the trust of teachers and professors, win the student council election in the 11th grade, leave a strong mark on her resume, win the favor of the interviewer at the school recruitment meeting, and have the right to say yes to a better life in the upward or downward choices in life.

Mona is adamant that she doesn't regret any of the choices she made.

If life gave her another chance to choose, she would do the same thing again.

But her heart is really messed up today, she doesn't know where this emotion comes from, but it is surging, and she can't breathe when she is drowning.

She didn't want to go home.

I don't want to call my own driver.

I don't even want to care about the eyes of others.

Two months ago, when she was so upset, Gu Weijing found herself, comforted her, and painted to make her happy.

She wanted to stand in the shade of the tree now, until the earth was barren, as if as long as she stood like this, the next second, she could wait for a hand, pat her on the shoulder, and ask her why she was sad.

What if you wait?

The trouble this guy is causing now has made the TV stations come to the door, and looking at that picture, maybe he will be expelled from school.

If he really ran over like he used to.

Mona would not hesitate to open her arms and put her arms around his neck and tell her, it's okay, no matter what happens, it's okay, I don't care.

I don't care if your membership is fake, and I don't care if you attend the Royal College of Art or the local Pheasant University.

As long as you're still that Gu Weijing.

We can still start over as before.

I will continue to keep a cold face and crumple the sketch again, so that this trouble essence is a little away from me.

Which choice will be made?

Even Mona herself didn't know, and she couldn't guess.

She gently tugged at the grass growing from the flowerbed bushes.

Yangon is located in the Irrawaddy Delta, the richest region in Myanmar.

In April, it's the time when everything grows wildly, and the leaves of coloured grass spread along the street-side flower beds planted with low shrubs to the distant horizon.

It is a small flower with heart-shaped leaves, which is named because the outer edge is a deep brown color, and near the rhizome, it turns a bright pink, and the two contrasting colors appear on the same plant at the same time.

"Half of the blood is still gushing, half of the chaos is dead."

A local poet once described the ubiquitous weeds in a sad tone: "This is our country." ”

Mona doesn't have the same deep affection for the ground beneath her feet as the poet.

Her complicated mood at the moment is somewhat similar to that of the poet decades ago.

Mona witnessed the interview outside the school gates.

The more rational half in her heart, she thought that she should be glad that she had been separated from Gu Weijing early, and the province was involved in this quagmire together.

She wants to laugh with the girl next to her casually, and she wants to show her sobriety and wisdom with a mentality that it doesn't matter to herself.

Even if you could.

Mona completely wanted to be in front of her classmates, and said coldly, saying in an arrogant tone that she foresaw something similar happening the moment she separated from the other party.

If feelings are a fund.

Miss Sandnu is a good and calm fund manager, and when she finds that the performance of holding stocks is not good and the future is worrying, she gives up her name early.

Definitely a good financier.

Pity.

Feelings are feelings.

Buying a person is never money, but sincerity.

She can't put a small abacus in her chest and calculate the good or bad mood by dialing the small wooden beads here for a while, and the small wooden beads for a while.

So, Mona couldn't laugh at all.

In fact, she was a little secretly happy in her heart.

After that time on the playground, she guessed that there was a maybe, maybe, probably, one percent possibility, that there was a little bit of ambiguous affection between Miss Sakai and her little boy.

Mona knew very well that she had almost no advantage in front of Miss Sakai.

Of course, Katsuko is indeed cute.

But Mona didn't believe that with the other party's family background, there was any substantial possibility of going on with Gu Weijing.

There is no caste in Japan, but life has its own class.

Katsuko Sakai is different from other rich ladies who also seem to be crony, her conditions have surpassed the "rich man" in the popular sense, and Miss Sakai is the daughter of a daughter in the true sense.

According to Luckin's wealth report, there are 84,490 billionaires worldwide whose families are worth more than $100 million. And a total of 8.1 billion people live on this planet.

Miss Sakai is not one in a thousand, not even one in ten thousand.

She is one in 100,000.

A member of the highest unattainable upper class in human society since ancient times.

Even in Hollywood romantic movies, in "Roman Holiday", the last scene is still a European princess and journalist Joe, saying goodbye to each other affectionately.

It's just because Miss Sakai is so good that the good ones can't be touched.

So she's not as threatening as the slut Koukou. Her mother seemed to be the kind of shrewd, philistine female devil with a strong aura.

At most, two people are engaged in an underground relationship behind their parents' backs.

Mona had thought about whether to reveal this to Professor Cruz, knowing that this majestic middle-aged mother must have killed the two of them with a finger, and then felt that this matter was a bit too much of a, and she didn't want to offend Katsuko, so she extinguished the very tempting impulse in her mind.

Now, Gu Weijing is deeply involved in a scandal, and thinking about it, there is no possibility for him and the young lady of the Sakai family.

is a childhood sweetheart like himself, who grew up together, so that he will not dislike each other.

There may be a very annoying Koukou, hum, she doesn't go to be a cheerleader, hooks up with a handsome guy, and always revolves around Gu Weijing, what kind of thing is it!

However, at the moment when the other party jumped out of the crowd.

Mona is also very envious of Chryco's freedom to do whatever she wants.

There is a part of her heart that is so hopeful, and it is herself who jumps out and speaks generously to the camera.

Coco said that she was playing the turtle, and she was not wrong at all.

Her lack of courage was only enough to stand in the crowd, looking at the interview with a worried expression, in a dilemma.

A lot of the time, Mona hates herself for being sticky and tangled.

Whether it is sneering at Gu Weijing with everyone, or jumping out and pointing coldly at Qianfu, it is a simple relief.

But Mona just couldn't.

Half sensual, half sensible, two ponies pulled her left and right, as if they were going to split her heart into two pieces.

Before Miss Sandnu knew it, she had torn the colored leaf grass she was holding in her hand to pieces, and the red and brown heart-shaped blades of grass were completely mixed together, and the white fingers and the shell of the mobile phone were dyed with colorful mottles.

She turned on her phone.

Staring at a text message on the screen that has been edited several times.

[Gu Weijing, I'm a little worried about you, are you okay? Give me a call. 】

After hesitating for a long time, Mona finally didn't click the send button, locked the screen of the phone again, and put it back in her pocket.

(End of chapter)