Chapter 2 · Too Late, Boy

After lunch, I returned to the dormitory to rest.

Just as I was about to lie down and rest, my phone vibrated twice, and a text message arrived.

[Foxy, the time and place for the signing event of Sunlight are confirmed. It's next Saturday in Morvane, not far from your school. Remember to set aside three hours. There will also be a fan meetup on site.]

[Got it,] I replied and casually opened the author backend app.

Last month's royalties had arrived. Along with the money Vivian sent me, my savings had surpassed 300 thousand dollars.

I had been writing novels on this platform for two years, with three completed works under my name.

Among them, Sunlight was my best-selling suspense novel.

Thanks to this book, I had accumulated nearly one million fans.

I posted the signing event announcement on Twitter.

Soon after, I received countless comments and private messages.

[So excited. I happen to be in Morvane, and I will definitely attend the signing event. Foxy, wait for me.]

[Ah, I finally waited long enough. I'm buying the train ticket now.]

I was scrolling through comments and about to turn off my phone when a private message popped up. [Foxy, can we finally meet? Wait for me.]

I noticed him because he had once tipped me nearly 30 thousand dollars during the serialization of Sunlight.

His message tone was unusually intimate, like between lovers.

I frowned and clicked on his profile picture.

It was a photo of a boy's back, strangely familiar.

From his IP, it turned out he was also from Morvane.

But I didn't think much and replied, [See you Saturday,] then exited Twitter and turned off my phone.

The first class in the afternoon was physical education, just as our class and Clifford's class had it together.

Under the scorching sun, two classes were going to play a basketball game.

Clifford threw me the meal card and ordered, "Go buy a case of water."

A case of water contained 24 bottles and was very heavy.

It took five minutes to walk from the basketball court to the convenience store.

I looked helplessly at the other classmates.

They all stepped back, showing disgust, and said, "Don't look at us. We won't help you."

"Exactly, you insisted on being a simp, buying water for the opposing class; you deserve it."

When I carried the water to the playground, panting in over thirty-degree heat, the basketball game had just ended.

Clifford's class won.

That group of people sat by the court, laughing and sharing the fruits of victory.

"Clifford, did you know? Foxy said she will hold a signing event for Sunlight in Morvane next Saturday. Are you going?"

"Isn't that obvious? Clifford is her loyal fan. Of course, he'll go."

Just as I walked behind them, I heard this sentence and instinctively paused.

The students in front of me were the most unruly group in school.

Had they actually read the Sunlight I wrote?

Maybe I was just too unnoticed.

Clifford didn't notice me.

He raised his eyebrows proudly, took his phone out of his pocket, and said in a low voice, "I already knew, and I even sent a message to Foxy on Twitter."

The guys collectively sighed and shouted loudly.

"Did she reply to you?"

"See how happy Clifford is. She must have replied."

Clifford looked even more proud. He relaxed his usually furrowed brows and showed everyone the screen on his phone. "Of course. She told me 'See you Saturday.'"

From a short distance away, I almost immediately saw the message on his phone screen.

Wasn't this the guy from noon? It turned out the person who tipped me 30 thousand dollars was actually Clifford.

Maybe my gaze was too intense.

Clifford finally noticed something was off.

He suddenly turned his head and met my sweaty face; the rare smile on his face immediately faded.

Clifford quickly turned off his phone, his sharp gaze questioning me, "What are you staring at on my phone?"

I pushed the box of water over with a blank expression and said, "I wasn't sneaking a look on purpose. It's your water."

Perhaps because my expression was too cold, Clifford was momentarily stunned.

His group of brothers sneered upon seeing this and said, "She was sneaking a look at your phone, and now she's got an attitude."

"She must think Clifford likes Foxy and got jealous."

"What's there to be afraid of? She'll come back soon anyway. She's always been Clifford's clingy shadow. He can't shake her off, no matter what."

I frowned and tried to explain, "No, I'm—"

I wanted to tell them that I was Foxy.

But halfway through, I recalled the worried look on my parents' faces.

If they knew I was writing novels, they would definitely worry about my grades dropping and blame themselves for not providing better study conditions.

With graduation approaching, I didn't want to cause trouble now.

So the words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

They mistook my silence for being at a loss for words.

Clifford snapped back to reality and sneered with disgust, "Emily, what right do you have to be jealous of Foxy? She's the author of Sunlight, while you're just good for chasing after men like a nobody."

After saying that, he emphasized once again. "I will never like you."

Chapter 2

After lunch, I returned to the dormitory to rest.

Just as I was about to lie down and rest, my phone vibrated twice, and a text message arrived.

[Got it,] I replied and casually opened the author backend app.

Last month's royalties had arrived. Along with the money Vivian sent me, my savings had surpassed 300 thousand dollars.

I had been writing novels on this platform for two years, with three completed works under my name.

Among them, Sunlight was my best-selling suspense novel.

Thanks to this book, I had accumulated nearly one million fans.

I posted the signing event announcement on Twitter.

Soon after, I received countless comments and private messages.

[So excited. I happen to be in Morvane, and I will definitely attend the signing event. Foxy, wait for me.]

[Ah, I finally waited long enough. I'm buying the train ticket now.]

I was scrolling through comments and about to turn off my phone when a private message popped up. [Foxy, can we finally meet? Wait for me.]

I noticed him because he had once tipped me nearly 30 thousand dollars during the serialization of Sunlight.

His message tone was unusually intimate, like between lovers.

I frowned and clicked on his profile picture.

It was a photo of a boy's back, strangely familiar.

From his IP, it turned out he was also from Morvane.

But I didn't think much and replied, [See you Saturday,] then exited Twitter and turned off my phone.

The first class in the afternoon was physical education, just as our class and Clifford's class had it together.

Under the scorching sun, two classes were going to play a basketball game.

Clifford threw me the meal card and ordered, "Go buy a case of water."

A case of water contained 24 bottles and was very heavy.

It took five minutes to walk from the basketball court to the convenience store.

I looked helplessly at the other classmates.

They all stepped back, showing disgust, and said, "Don't look at us. We won't help you."

"Exactly, you insisted on being a simp, buying water for the opposing class; you deserve it."

When I carried the water to the playground, panting in over thirty-degree heat, the basketball game had just ended.

Clifford's class won.

That group of people sat by the court, laughing and sharing the fruits of victory.

"Clifford, did you know? Foxy said she will hold a signing event for Sunlight in Morvane next Saturday. Are you going?"

"Isn't that obvious? Clifford is her loyal fan. Of course, he'll go."

Just as I walked behind them, I heard this sentence and instinctively paused.

The students in front of me were the most unruly group in school.

Had they actually read the Sunlight I wrote?

Maybe I was just too unnoticed.

Clifford didn't notice me.

He raised his eyebrows proudly, took his phone out of his pocket, and said in a low voice, "I already knew, and I even sent a message to Foxy on Twitter."

The guys collectively sighed and shouted loudly.

"Did she reply to you?"

"See how happy Clifford is. She must have replied."

Clifford looked even more proud. He relaxed his usually furrowed brows and showed everyone the screen on his phone. "Of course. She told me 'See you Saturday.'"

From a short distance away, I almost immediately saw the message on his phone screen.

Wasn't this the guy from noon? It turned out the person who tipped me 30 thousand dollars was actually Clifford.

Maybe my gaze was too intense.

Clifford finally noticed something was off.

He suddenly turned his head and met my sweaty face; the rare smile on his face immediately faded.

Clifford quickly turned off his phone, his sharp gaze questioning me, "What are you staring at on my phone?"

I pushed the box of water over with a blank expression and said, "I wasn't sneaking a look on purpose. It's your water."

Perhaps because my expression was too cold, Clifford was momentarily stunned.

His group of brothers sneered upon seeing this and said, "She was sneaking a look at your phone, and now she's got an attitude."

"She must think Clifford likes Foxy and got jealous."

"What's there to be afraid of? She'll come back soon anyway. She's always been Clifford's clingy shadow. He can't shake her off, no matter what."

I frowned and tried to explain, "No, I'm—"

I wanted to tell them that I was Foxy.

But halfway through, I recalled the worried look on my parents' faces.

If they knew I was writing novels, they would definitely worry about my grades dropping and blame themselves for not providing better study conditions.

With graduation approaching, I didn't want to cause trouble now.

So the words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

They mistook my silence for being at a loss for words.

After saying that, he emphasized once again. "I will never like you."