I tugged Hezze out of the classroom. There were too many people there; it really wasn't the right place to do anything medical.
The restroom was empty. Even so, I still pulled her into a stall with me, closed the door, then opened my bag and took out a small sterile kit of fine medical needles. In the dim light of the cubicle, the metal tips flashed with a sharp, clinical gleam.
Hezze glanced at them and blanched a little. They did look like they'd hurt.
I motioned for her to sit on the closed toilet lid and said softly, "It might sting a bit, but try to bear with it for a moment, okay?"
She hesitated for a second, then nodded.
I lifted her shirt slightly, found the right trigger points along the lower abdomen and pelvic area, then inserted the needles in one clean, practiced motion. When I worked, my entire focus narrowed; I could feel my expression settle into that calm, serious look I only ever wore when I was treating someone.
I knew from experience that when I was like this, my face looked different sharper, more vivid somehow, as if someone had turned up the light on me. Apparently it was the kind of beauty that could stop time.
Hezze just stared, dazed, looking like she might switch teams on the spot. Honestly, having a best friend who makes your heart flutter is a problem of its own.
"What's wrong? Does it hurt a lot?" I raised my eyes to her, my voice soft.
She shook her head so fast it almost made me laugh. "It doesn't hurt! Not at all!"
She looked like a conquered monarch, completely bewitched by a pretty face, unable to feel anything but her own heartbeat.
Not long after, I removed the needles and held them up beside my lips as I finished. "Done. How do you feel now?"
Hezze blinked. "Huh? Already? That was… fast."
She stared at me in disbelief. "I didn't even feel anything. That's it?"
I couldn't help laughing. "What did you want to feel? Pain so bad you're dying all over again?"
She shook her head immediately.
"Stand up and see how it feels. If anything still feels off, tell me," I said.
She stood up at once and tried to sense her body carefully. A moment later, her eyes went wide, her cramping was gone. Now it was just that slight discomfort from the menstrual flow itself, which was totally normal.
She grabbed my hand, practically glowing. "Rosy! You're amazing! I was dying a few minutes ago and now there's no pain at all. You really saved my life!"
I put the needles away in their sterile case and smiled helplessly. "I only reduced the pain temporarily. If you want to fix it properly, we'll need consistent treatment regular sessions, not just once."
"Then I'll leave myself in your hands!" Hezze hugged my arm, smiling with absolute trust.
I thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."
She was overjoyed, her face lit with excitement. "Rosy! You're so skilled. We have a doctor at the hospital, he does minimally invasive needle therapy too but he's not as precise as you. His technique is okay, but your control is way better. Did you start learning this when you were a kid?"
I nodded.
When I was little, I'd been dumped in that remote village. Mr. Bailey had washed his hands of me entirely and left me with a mean farmwoman who barely fed or clothed me properly. Food was uncertain, my clothes were ragged, and the old people in the village looked down on me, calling me an illegitimate child saying things so nasty I still remember the sting.
It was in that miserable place that I met the old man.
He was… different. Bored with life, maybe, but kind to me. He clearly had serious medical training his posture was elegant, his speech cultured. He didn't resemble any of the rustic grandpas and grandmas in that village at all.
He was the one who taught me how to fight back.
"If you don't push back," he had said, "you'll always be the weak one. And the weak always get bullied."
So in the end, I did stand up. I pushed back until all those old gossips in the village started avoiding me whenever they saw me coming.
"Wow, that's awesome. Who did you learn from?" Hezze's curiosity exploded. To teach someone like me, her teacher had to be a genius.
I pressed my lips together. "Just a very boring old man."
"Huh?" She blinked, clearly not expecting that answer.
I laughed and didn't explain further.
When he passed away, he was already over ninety. It was peaceful, natural, and he seemed genuinely content at the end.
I had always been curious about who he really was. Someone with his education and skill, why would he live in such a tiny, backward village? But he never answered. Every time I asked, he'd dodge the question with a couple of vague sentences.
I sighed quietly. "He really was a very, very boring old man."
Hezze: "…"
Is it really okay to talk about your own teacher like that?
The bell rang just then. We both jumped, then rushed out of the restroom and ran back to the classroom. Luckily, the teacher hadn't arrived yet.
As we hurried in, Liona shot me a vicious glare, her eyes full of resentment.
I ignored her and quickly sat down.
"Rosy, don't you think Liona's a bit stupid?" Hezze whispered. "She literally glared at you like you murdered her family. She looked so resentful!"
I raised a brow. "She is a bit stupid."
Whatever Captian was doing to the Robbery family had nothing to do with me.
After class, I went to Hezze's house again.
Day after day, things went on like that for five or six days straight. I kept going over to her place to practice the piano, and I continued giving her regular treatments. Her complexion improved; she looked healthier, her skin rosier and more radiant.
Just when my life was starting to feel almost… comfortable, the school forum suddenly exploded with new posts several photos and a block of text.
The photos were public, posted directly on the school forum.
On their own, they probably wouldn't have caused much trouble.
The images were all of the same scene: a girl stepping down from a car. That was it but shot from multiple angles, with the license plate clearly visible.
It was a black Rolls-Royce, clearly very well maintained. Under the sun, the surface shone so brightly it almost hurt the eyes. It screamed luxury, no way you could buy that for less than ten million yuan.
The girl getting out of the car didn't look ordinary either. Everything she wore was limited edition designer each piece obviously expensive. Her figure was elegant, her face beautiful. One glance and you could tell she looked every bit like a rich young lady.
Luxurious car. Limited edition clothes. Beautiful girl from a famous school.
Taken together, it was the perfect "elite heiress" package.
So what was there to fuss about? Why post something like this?
Students scrolling lazily past almost skipped it—until their brains suddenly caught up with what they were reading, and internally they were screaming.
Because the text under the photos didn't mention any name, but it stated clearly:
A certain first-year girl from Class A was being kept by a sugar daddy.
All the luxury items on her body were supposedly bought for her by her "sponsor."
The post went on to say that this girl relied on being "kept" and acted extremely arrogant and bossy, looking down on her classmates.
Everyone had originally thought she was a refined daughter from an influential family.
But no, according to the post, she was just a cheap mistress being kept by some rich man.
Being kept was bad enough. But flaunting it so blatantly? Disgusting or so the post claimed.