Bidding on Shoes, An Unexpected Deskmate

Click, click.

"Alright, done!"

Ye Cheng looked at his "masterpiece" before him, his lips curling into a smug grin.

That's right.

Ye Cheng had just posted the little black dress shoes he'd... well, "found" in an abandoned factory—originally belonging to Dongfang Zhixia—on the school's online forum.

The price tag? A very auspicious 666.

Ye Cheng felt he was being downright ruthless.

Selling a single shoe for 666? He was practically a business prodigy!

What Ye Cheng didn’t know was that the shoes in their academy were all custom-made, worth far more than 666. The sole alone cost more than that.

And these weren’t just any shoes—they’d been "enchanted" by the Student Council President herself.

For the right buyer, adding a few extra zeros to the price wouldn’t be an issue.

It didn’t take long for comments to flood in after Ye Cheng posted.

"666, shoes allegedly worn by the President?"

"Seriously, dude? This scam is so lame."

"Only an idiot would fall for this. Definitely fake."

"Not even pretending anymore. How would the President’s shoes end up in your hands?"

Ye Cheng read the comments with amusement, completely unbothered.

He was used to this. In fact, if he didn’t get trolled a few times a day, he’d feel oddly restless.

He was starting to suspect he had some kind of weird kink.

These commenters clearly weren’t his target audience. He just had to wait patiently, and eventually...

Huh?

Ye Cheng’s eyes widened as he stared at the bidding notifications popping up on his phone.

"User 47398 has placed a bid!"

"User 23456 raised the price to 888!"

"User 34789 raised it to 999!"

"User..."

In less than a minute, the price had skyrocketed to 2,000 yuan—and was still climbing at a terrifying rate. Ye Cheng was stunned.

The most ridiculous part? Every single bidder was one of the people who’d just mocked him in the comments.

"Talk about tsundere," Ye Cheng muttered.

Rich kids’ money was just too easy to take.

And it wasn’t just guys bidding—there were girls too.

What the hell were they planning to do with the shoe? He couldn’t even guess.

Not his problem, though.

"The shoe was just lying there, looked abandoned."

"Dunno, seemed pretty so I picked it up."

"Waste not, right?"

"Just a country bumpkin here, don’t know any better."

"Take it up with my disclaimer."

To cover his tracks, Ye Cheng had prepared a disclaimer the moment he "found" the shoe.

Even if Dongfang Zhixia caught him, the worst she’d do was kick his ass.

And getting kicked for 666 yuan? That was the deal of the century.

Still, Ye Cheng had standards.

He automatically ignored the male bidders, selling only to the female students with... questionable intentions.

That way, if the President ever caught him, at least he wouldn’t die too horribly.

He was just a humble guy who liked picking up discarded treasures. What evil could possibly be in his heart?

Half an hour later, the battle concluded.

18,888—an extremely auspicious number.

At this point, no one dared to bid higher.

The winner was an account with a black profile picture, seemingly brand-new, with no visible gender or details. Just to be safe, Ye Cheng sent a private message.

Looking at the bidding history, this buyer had consistently bid way above the competition.

While others were stuck at 6,666, this person had jumped straight to 10,000, setting a new benchmark.

A true money god.

Ye Cheng: "Hey, mind sharing your gender?"

Buyer: "No."

Ye Cheng: "Then no sale."

Buyer: "..."

Buyer: "Male."

Ye Cheng: "Not selling."

Buyer: "???"

Meanwhile...

Inside the academy’s luxurious private villa, marked with the characters "Dongfang"...

"Young Mistress, he seems to be messing with us."

The secretary stared at the chat log in silence.

Dongfang Zhixia’s chest heaved. "Why are you looking at me? He’s messing with you!"

Secretary: "..."

"Useless! Can’t even handle something this simple. Move, I’ll do it myself!"

Dongfang Zhixia scoffed, shooting her secretary a disappointed glare.

The secretary shrank back like a frightened quail, too scared to argue.

Buyer: "Why won’t you sell?"

Ye Cheng: "I’m afraid you’ll use the shoe for something weird."

Buyer: "..."

Buyer: "Since when does a shoe seller care about that?"

Ye Cheng: "Bro, the fact that you’d say that tells me you are planning something weird. Sorry, no sale."

Buyer: "???"

The next message bounced back with a red exclamation mark.

Blocked.

Dongfang Zhixia: "..."

Visibly flushed with anger, her upbringing prevented her from cursing outright.

After a long pause, she finally managed to grit out:

"You bastard, just you wait!"

"Young Mistress, should we keep bidding?" the trembling secretary ventured cautiously.

"Obviously!"

At this point, who ended up with the shoe didn’t matter. What mattered was luring Ye Cheng out.

So she could... thoroughly humiliate him!

Only then would her fury be appeased.

Late that night, Ye Cheng finally closed the deal.

He’d chosen the perfect buyer—an adorable fangirl of Dongfang Zhixia. When he’d asked for a photo to verify her identity, she’d sent one immediately.

They agreed to meet in person for the exchange—cash for goods.

The girl seemed impatient, pushing to meet that very night, but Ye Cheng refused, citing "early to bed, early to rise."

They settled on the next evening, when there’d be fewer people around.

Ye Cheng turned off his phone and got ready for bed.

"Scary lesbians."

The night passed without incident, and morning arrived.

The academy’s classrooms were spacious, a far cry from the schools Ye Cheng had attended before.

But then again, this was an elite institution—of course it was impressive.

On his way to class, Ye Cheng noticed people giving him odd looks, accompanied by hushed whispers.

He ignored them.

Finding his seat—a discreet corner—he sprawled across the desk, ready for a nap.

As the saying went:

"Back row by the window—the throne of kings!"

But before he could doze off, the classroom erupted in gasps and chatter.

"She’s in our class too?!"

"The mafia princess! Just like the rumors—so icy, so cool!"

"Wait, is she hurt? Did she sprain her ankle?"

Ye Cheng grew increasingly uneasy as he listened—something about these descriptions felt eerily familiar, almost like that stunning but inconsiderate girl who had shamelessly washed her feet in the public fountain yesterday.

Surely it was just his imagination, right?

Straightening up, Ye Cheng stole a glance.

Just then, he spotted the girl limping into the classroom, searching for her seat. As if sensing his gaze, she turned her head and locked eyes with him.

Ye Cheng: "..."

Shen Qinghan: "..."