My own war game

Chapter 458 Extra 2: Respective Roommates

"Is it okay for me to share a dorm with him?" The 17 or 8-year-old girl pointed at the person next to her, without any shyness on her face, as if what she was talking about was a very ordinary thing.

"What, what?" The senior student in charge of registration thought he had heard it wrongly.

"He and I..."

Seeing those black pupils and slightly curved lips, He Ran felt an electric current rising from his tailbone. He hurriedly stepped forward to stop the other party from continuing.
"Sorry, it was just a joke between friends."

Then he quickly turned to the blonde girl and lowered his voice, "Vidian, this joke is not funny at all..."

"Oh? Don't you like it? I remember there were often such plots in those Japanese comics under your bed..." Facing He Ran, the girl exaggeratedly widened her eyes with long eyelashes and covered her mouth with her small hands in silver gloves.

The slender little finger secretly hooked in a circle, which was a secret code known only to the two of them - be smart and don't let me take the initiative to propose conditions.

He Ran held his forehead with one hand and helplessly spread his palms upwards - okay, you win.

Seeing that the other party was so sensible, the girl's eyebrows curved like a crescent moon. Then she coughed lightly and returned to her previous cold look.

"I'm not used to the English accent with slang here. What I mean is, can you arrange a quieter room for me?" The girl smiled at the staff in front of her.

The senior student seemed to see a silver flower blooming before his eyes, so much so that it took him half a minute to remember his duty.
"Sorry, the room arrangement is..."

As soon as he finished speaking, a letter of introduction was placed on the table. The senior student took a glance and found that there were names of several honorary directors of the school on it.

"Please wait a moment." The senior students left their seats and ran back in a hurry. A teacher came hurriedly.

The scene was a little chaotic for a while, but until the girl left surrounded by the crowd, she did not look at the so-called "upper class".
-
At night, the freshman welcome dance arrived as scheduled.

The long oak table in the Gothic banquet hall was covered with dark green velvet, and retro kerosene lamps swayed in brass candlesticks.

One side of the long table was filled with various cold dishes and desserts, but few students touched them - as we all know, the food on the cold banquet table is generally not very delicious, and eating has never been their focus.

The second and third graders in formal wear have their own goals - the fresh and delicious looking first graders.

New students who have just enrolled have become the most sought-after resource. As long as you look good, there will always be someone willing to dance with you and have a drink with you. If you like someone, you can even continue to communicate about life in private.

Dances are also places for passing on information. You can pick up a glass of champagne and join familiar circles at will. You can often hear gossip that you would not be able to access in daily life.

However, today everyone's topic was surprisingly unified, and all focused on two people - the country girl from China, and the blonde girl who seemed to look down on everyone.

A small salon in the corner was conducting its own business.

"Let me introduce to you all. This is Ms. Reiko Matsumoto, the heir to the Matsumoto Group. Today is the first time we meet each other." The introducer took the Japanese girl's hand and led her to the host.

"Please take care of me." The Japanese girl, who was less than 20 years old, bowed deeply and stood quietly aside, without any of the arrogance she had at the airport during the day.

In fact, from the perspective of European and American aesthetics, Miss Matsumoto looks pretty good. When she stands there without talking, she really looks a bit like a Yamato Nadeshiko. It's just that her slightly stiff eyebrows are like a knife hanging on her brow bone, which destroys the original sense of harmony.

Polite applause rang out sparsely around, and it was obvious that Miss Matsumoto did not attract much attention from the salon members.

An heir to a local conglomerate that rose to prominence after the war was, in the eyes of many people, just a passing grade to enter this party.

Where there are people, there are classes, and the nature of Queen's University makes this class nature more obvious.

Queen's College was founded in 1841. Its initial funding came from the Scottish Presbyterian Church, but it later became an independent operation.

During this period, the school faced the risk of dissolution twice due to the economic crisis and the world war. In the end, the school was able to overcome the difficulties by raising funds from members and alumni. Even to this day, donations remitted from various Commonwealth countries each year have always been an important source of income for the university.

Of course, all this money is not wasted. In addition to donating generously, honorary alumni from all over the world occasionally use letters of recommendation to introduce some "promising young people" to study at Queen's University.

Although Queen's University is not ranked very high in the world (around 190th), as a long-established Commonwealth university and a future member of the U15 Alliance, it has close ties with the Ivy League in the United States.

Queen's students have the opportunity to transfer directly to an Ivy League university through scholarship policies.

This has also led many wealthy people to regard Queen's University as a springboard to "save the country in a roundabout way", or as a "preparatory class" for their children to attend Harvard, Yale and other universities.

Almost all the kids in this salon come from this background.

The new families and second- and third-rate chaebols that emerged after the war were not short of money, but they did not have a deep foundation and could not get letters of recommendation from first-line celebrities, so they would send their children to Queen's University to "run it."

Within about a year, these people will transfer schools for various reasons and become students in the Ivy League.

Behind a small table, several core members were whispering.

"Everything has been investigated clearly." A thin white man pulled out a chair, picked up the whiskey on the table and drank it all.

"The Chinese man with the South African passport wrote on the registration form that his family runs a waste recycling company. I checked and found that the registered place is in Cape Town, with a registered capital of 1000 million US dollars."

The others looked at each other without any special reaction. In the eyes of ordinary people, having assets of tens of millions already makes one a truly wealthy person, but compared to the families of the people present, that is still not enough. If someone with this kind of wealth wants to attend their salon, there isn't even a chair available.

"That arrogant blonde girl is from England. Her background is not very detailed, but judging from the building where her home address is, she should belong to a butler serving the royal family." The white man then reported the "secret" he had obtained.

"Oh? The royal butler? No wonder he is so arrogant." The leader took the word butler more seriously when he heard it.

The butlers who served the royal family all year round usually came from families with deep roots, which could easily have hundreds of years of history, and some of them even had low-level noble titles themselves.

Maybe the people present may have richer families than the other party, but if they compete in social resources, they may not be able to catch up with the other party.

The children of these emerging financial groups are not all fools. It would be best if they could win over someone of their status, but there is no need to provoke them if that is not possible. So the attention of several people was focused on the last person.

"Where's the Chinese woman?"

"That Chinese chick had no background, and the total amount of money she had was probably less than $500."

"OK, perfect!" The leader looked at his companions around him and said, "Everyone, it looks like we have new fun."
-
At this time, Tang Qiu didn't know that she had been targeted. She dragged her heavy suitcase to her dormitory.

It is somewhat surprising that the school buildings here look quite old, and the wooden floors even make a creaking sound when going up the stairs.

Inserting the key into the lock, Tang Qiu muttered silently, "Please, have a normal roommate, at least not too much..."

Click! The door of the house was opened, and a figure with long golden hair appeared before my eyes.

"Excuse me, I'm the new roommate. May I ask..." Tang Qiu stopped talking halfway because the person in front of her turned around and a pair of black eyes like stars were staring at her.

It's the blonde girl from the daytime.

Thinking of the other person's arrogant pride during the day, Tang Qiu's heart tightened. The new roommate didn't seem to be an easy person to get along with.

The blonde girl didn't say anything, but came closer and looked at the Chinese girl carefully. The two of them got closer and closer, until their noses were only an inch apart.

Looking at the white girl's expression, Tang Qiu thought of the curious orange cat in his hometown, and he seemed to have become a ball of wool in her eyes.

"How long have you known him?" The blonde girl asked a somewhat abrupt question.

Tang Qiu thought about it for a while before realizing who the other party was referring to.

"What are you talking about?"

The girl nodded.

"We met at the airport, less than a day ago." Tang Qiu told the truth.

The blonde girl wrinkled her delicate little nose, with a cute expression on her face. Then she changed her angle and looked at Tang Qiu, staring at him for half a minute.

From the half-worn pair of leather shoes to the somewhat rustic coat, he looked at Miss Tang's hands as she carried the luggage alone, and then the blonde girl turned around and returned to her bed.

"The room is half for each of us. I came here first so I choose first."

"There is a small screen in the middle. Please use it when doing private things. If you are on the phone, please speak quietly. I am not interested in gossip."

"There are two safes in total. Valuables are kept there. The bathroom is shared. I'll tell you before I use it."

"We can talk about other things during the day. It's late now and I need to rest. If you have nothing else to do, please turn off the lights in half an hour."

Strong, arrogant, and even a little self-willed.

But for some reason, Tang Qiu felt that she could actually accept it. Although the other party was indifferent, it was at least better than she expected.

The Chinese girl nodded woodenly.

After a simple tidying up, Tang Qiu lay on his bed. The exotic moonlight pouring in from the window looked exactly the same as that from his hometown.

Recalling what happened during the day, the girl curled herself up in the quilt.

In the darkness, soft murmurs could be heard from the bed opposite.

"You have such bad taste..."

"what?"

"Nothing, I'm not talking about you."
-
"A-choo!" He Ran rubbed his nose in the corridor and opened his door.

There was also a man inside who turned around to greet him.

In contrast, He Ran’s roommate was quite enthusiastic. “Hey, man, I’ve been waiting for you for a long time! The student union told me that there is a companion from South Africa, and they said you are…”

Halfway through their conversation, they were both stunned when they saw each other's faces.

"He, why is it you?!" the white boy opposite said unhappily.

"Damn it! Man, meeting you here makes me, Dad, feel terrible." He Ran put one hand on the door sill and retorted unhappily.

As we all know, except for extreme exceptions, most boys will have a few special friends of their own during middle school.

Once they meet, they will use all kinds of words to belittle each other, but they will support each other at critical moments.

The other person was He Ran’s classmate in high school in South Africa, and one of his few bad friends.

With a plop, the suitcase was thrown roughly on the table, and a few snacks popped out from the pocket inside.

The white guy picked up the dessert on the table, unwrapped it and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Oh, macarons, my favorite. I guess your mother stuffed them in your mouth. It seems that you are still a good boy even in college." The boy said while eating, his pronunciation was unclear because he had something in his mouth.

"It's not my request. Just take whatever you like." He Ran didn't want to pay attention to the other party. He just concentrated on packing his things and threw the dessert box to the white boy.

The boy took the box with one hand and took out a new one while rubbing his fingers.

Suddenly, he saw a certain symbol on the box.

puff! !

The white boy choked as the snack crumbs spurted out of his mouth.

"What are you doing? Are you so stupid that you can't even steal food?" He Ran glanced at his roommate.

"Does your mother give you this as a snack?" the boy asked, pointing to the brand logo on the box.

"is there a problem?"

"Huh? You really don't know how expensive this thing is?"

The boy held up the macarons in his hand and explained.

"This is a co-branded model with Hermès. It is made by mixing almond powder with Persian blue salt, imitating the lock shape of the Kelly bag. It is a gift after purchasing 5 francs at the Hermès store."

"How do you know?" He Ran looked at the things in his hand and was more or less surprised. He thought that his family was well off, but not to the extent that he could take things worth 50,000 yuan as snacks.

"Don't forget, my mother is a model, and she is most sensitive to this kind of luxury goods." The white boy lowered his voice and said, "He, your family is actually super rich, right? Are you just keeping a low profile here? Experience life?"

"Me? My father is just the owner of a scrap metal recycling company." He Ran said.

"Well, the kind that can recycle second-hand MiG fighters and main battle tanks." The older boy shrugged and then yawned.

"Well, young master of the capitalist family, it's time to go to bed. We can talk about it tomorrow." The older boy stuffed the last piece of dessert into his mouth, rinsed his mouth hastily, and climbed onto his bed.

The curtain was drawn and a small wooden sign was revealed.
"Resting, do not disturb! Elon Musk"

(End of this chapter)