The lecture hall was packed.
Not just with students—but faculty, deans, and even a few sneaky alumni pretending to "monitor orientation quality."
Really, they were all there for one reason: Lin Xie.
The mythical top scorer.
The girl who solved a matrix faster than a government AI.
The one who called Lu Xinyin "air" and turned it into merch.
But Lin Xie didn't care.
She sat near the front, stylus in hand, rapidly annotating four simultaneous modules across multiple course platforms—economics, quantum systems, ethical AI policy, and cinematic composition theory.
She had also silently corrected the professor's slide formatting within the first five minutes.
But she said nothing.
Because she was cold.
And polite.
And terrifying.
Which made it all the more interesting when, exactly at 10:24 a.m., a woman in six-inch stilettos and a custom Dior cape swept into the hallway like she was being introduced at the Met Gala.
Gasps.
Whispers.
Phones out.
Because it wasn't just anyone.
It was Zhang Min.
Heiress. Graduate. Walking marketing campaign.
She didn't walk so much as glide.
With her waist-length hair, minimalist makeup, and personal assistant hovering behind her like a weather balloon, Zhang Min entered the university building like she owned it.
Which, to be fair, she partially did—her family had donated an AI research wing last year.
"Why is she here?" Fei Yue whispered nervously from behind Lin Xie. "This isn't a runway…"
"She graduated already," Ai Wen added. "Right? Like—years ago?"
"Did she time travel back to campus out of jealousy?" Fei Yue whispered again.
"She dated a prince," someone said.
"Briefly," someone corrected. "He ran away after two weeks and claimed 'emotional heatstroke.'"
Lin Xie continued annotating.
Zhang Min, however, had other plans.
With the grace of someone about to file a lawsuit, she paused in front of Lin Xie's desk and gave her the kind of smile people use before stabbing you with dessert forks.
"Well, well," she said, "if it isn't the top scorer."
Lin Xie glanced up. "I am."
A flicker passed through Zhang Min's eye.
"I didn't know universities allowed underage enrollment."
"I'm legal."
"That's… surprising."
"I hear that a lot," Lin Xie replied flatly.
More whispers. Someone giggled.
Zhang Min's eye twitched.
She tilted her head, voice saccharine. "You must feel out of place. All that fame, no experience. People might start expecting things."
"They already do."
Zhang Min's smile faltered. "It's different in the real world. You'll see. Once you hit actual corporate labs or financial projections—"
"Like your Shanghai thesis?" Lin Xie asked calmly.
Silence.
Absolute, pin-drop silence.
Zhang Min blinked. "What?"
Lin Xie blinked back. "It was corrected by your assistant editor in the final round. Your logarithmic coefficient drifted past the 0.3 mark and distorted the final ROI values. It would've collapsed the entire investment framework in real-world testing."
Every student turned.
Even the janitor peeked in.
"You—" Zhang Min's voice dropped an octave. "You read my thesis?"
"I read everything," Lin Xie said. "Unlike your QA team."
Zhang Min looked like she'd been slapped with her own heels.
"I was nominated for the East-Asia Future Finance Award," she hissed.
"I know. They quietly revoked it during peer review."
Gasp.
Even the assistant dean dropped his coffee.
Zhang Min stood, stunned, mouth slightly open.
For the first time in years, she had no idea what to say.
Lin Xie clicked her stylus off. "Are you visiting for educational purposes, or just here to be wrong again?"
That. Broke. The room.
Laughter.
Someone wheezed.
A student shouted, "SHE DIDN'T EVEN RAISE HER VOICE!"
Another: "SHE'S SO MEAN, I'M GONNA MARRY HER."
Zhang Min turned scarlet. "You—"
"Still here?" Lin Xie asked blankly.
The assistant professor at the podium cleared his throat. "Miss Zhang, this is a student area. You may wait in the alumni lounge, if needed."
Defeated. Furious. Flustered. Zhang Min turned, heels clicking aggressively down the hallway.
Ai Wen slid into Lin Xie's row the second she vanished. "Please let me follow you forever."
Fei Yue leaned over. "You annihilated a woman who once got flown to Monaco for brunch."
Lin Xie returned to her notes. "She was distracting."
The campus forum exploded.
By the end of the day, someone had made a meme:
Top: Zhang Min (Shanghai thesis)
Bottom: Lin Xie: "Still here?"
Caption: This isn't a campus. It's a courtroom.
---
The day had finally cooled by the time Lin Xie stepped out of her final seminar.
Her bag was neatly slung over one shoulder, a stylus tucked behind her ear like a soldier's dagger, and her schedule reorganized mid-walk through voice command. The AI traffic around campus politely parted for her—students walking just a little slower, just a little quieter.
Not because she asked.
Because she didn't have to.
She was halfway down the administrative garden path when Zhang Min appeared again, this time blocking her way like a last boss in a side quest nobody wanted.
She wore another couture ensemble—floor-length silk trench, custom embroidery of her family's robotics crest stitched into the lapel. Her hair was perfect. Her heels were sharper than her expressions.
And her fury was gift-wrapped in a smile.
"Do you think this is going to last?" she said coolly.
Lin Xie blinked at her once.
Twice.
"Do you believe," Zhang Min continued, "that Shen Rui will keep indulging you once the novelty wears off? Once he realizes you're not from our world?"
Lin Xie stared at her for a beat longer, then tilted her head. "I don't think he's indulging me. I think he's too busy deflecting women who wear tactical couture."
Zhang Min's face hardened. "You don't deserve him."
A breeze passed through the courtyard. The fountain behind them burbled cheerfully. Lin Xie didn't move.
"No one outside of our circle should even dare," Zhang Min said sharply. "The Shen family's connections are tied to international tech, weapons development, the Eastern AI Council—this isn't something you charm your way into. Rui is someone we have the right to compete for."
"Compete?" Lin Xie repeated.
Her voice was flat, almost robotic.
Zhang Min's eyes narrowed. "Yes. The six heiresses—Lian Mei, Xu Qian, Han Zhi, Yue Qing, Wen Yuan—me—and Lu Xinyin, even if she's just my cousin—we've been there since the beginning. We were groomed for this level. Raised for it."
Lin Xie looked at her, almost fascinated, like observing a prehistoric parasite preserved in amber.
"You're proud of being shortlisted to fight for a man who's never looked at you?" she asked softly.
Zhang Min flinched.
Lin Xie continued, voice level and merciless: "You think being born into a curated contact list is merit? You parade around in pre-approved DNA like a prize horse and think that gives you claim over someone who's made his own empire?"
"That 'someone' is my equal—our equal," Zhang Min snapped.
Lin Xie raised one brow. "He doesn't even know your perfume. I asked."
Zhang Min opened her mouth, then shut it again.
Lin Xie's tone shifted slightly—still flat, but now faintly tinged with something clinical. "It's strange. Your entire argument is that I shouldn't exist beside him, not because of anything I've done, but because of everything you think you were owed. I wonder if you realize how illogical that sounds."
"I—"
"And worse," Lin Xie cut in, deadpan. "You're not even blaming him. You're attacking me for taking up space he voluntarily gave."
She took a step forward.
Her expression didn't change, but the temperature did.
"You're fighting a woman for not rejecting a man who never wanted you. That's disgusting. That's embarrassing. That's emotional illiteracy with a side of entitlement and too many hair masks."
Zhang Min stared at her like she'd been stabbed in twelve languages.
Lin Xie wasn't done.
"I could understand if you wanted him because he made you feel seen. Loved. Respected. But no—he's just powerful. That's it. You think standing next to him makes you powerful too."
She tilted her head the other direction.
"But he never even looked at you. Not once. Not when you were in his field of view, not in his inbox, not even when you wore those 'accidentally backless' gala gowns. You're proud of competing, but he never knew you were in the game."
Zhang Min was frozen. Completely still.
Lin Xie's voice dropped slightly. Not softer. But deadlier.
"Don't mistake proximity for permission. Don't mistake effort for inevitability. And for all your education, you should know by now that scheming against other women is not a qualification. It's just laziness."
Zhang Min's lips parted, but no words came out.
Lin Xie blinked slowly. "If you still want him, apply again in your next life."
Then she stepped around her and kept walking, movements as effortless as code running clean.
Behind her, Zhang Min didn't speak.
She just stood there, trembling faintly, in a custom $7,000 coat that suddenly felt three sizes too tight.
And the students passing by?
They watched.
They didn't interfere.
But several recorded it.
And by nightfall, the forums had a new viral caption:
"If he never looked at you, why are you blaming me?" —Lin Xie, 2025
Followed by the tag:
#ProgrammedToEndYou