Ligada a sonhos premonitórios, sobrevivo atuando para salvar meu rival obsessivo

“Yuan Yuan, do you really have enough money to get by? Don’t force yourself—be honest with me,” her mother’s voice came through the phone, as gentle as ever but tinged with a subtle, cautious probing.

“I do, Mom! I just got a scholarship, so I’m doing fine!”

Xuyuan hid in a quiet corner of the library, listening to the steady patter of rain outside the window, striving to make her voice sound like honey soaked in sunlight—sweet, full, and without a trace of gloom.

“You and Dad don’t need to worry about me. Take your medicine on time and eat well, okay?”

She lied once more.

Skillfully ending the call, the radiant smile she had carefully crafted, flawless as a masterpiece, was instantly extinguished like a candle blown out by the wind.

Xuyuan slowly crouched down, burying her face deep into her knees, her slender shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

Her phone screen glowed faintly, the bank’s text message alert feeling like a cold verdict, silently announcing her predicament—

[Dear customer, your savings account ending in 6772 currently has a balance of: 78.50 yuan.]

Seventy-eight yuan and fifty cents.

There were still twenty-three days until her next tutoring paycheck arrived on the fifteenth of next month.

Her tutoring session tonight was in just one hour, held off-campus at “Jinmao Mansion,” with a round-trip bus fare of four yuan. To save that four yuan—and to avoid being seen in her destitution by her roommates—she had braved the heavy rain to come early to the library, surviving on the two stale discou