"Oh... so you just want to be friends?"
One of the girls drawled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
"Drink if you want," Li Shurui cut in, unfazed by the teasing. Her manicured fingers swirled her glass lazily. "But you're not my type."
The art school queen's bluntness could've shattered glass. Jiang Chen, however, remained unflappable—years of rejection had armor-plated his ego. "What *is* your type, then?"
Li Shurui tilted her head back, downing her drink in a smooth arc. Her friend answered for her: "At minimum? Someone who outshines Liang Zhenlun. His Maserati Quattroporte might be secondhand, but it's still worth half a million. Shurui's man better drive something pricier."
*Pricier?* That meant seven figures minimum. These art school girls lived in a different financial universe.
Jiang Chen's eye twitched. Pre-system, he'd have bolted. Now? With **10 trillion Simp Funds** burning a hole in his metaphysical pocket? He smirked internally. *A million cars? Pocket change.*
"Expensive cars don't guarantee happiness," he argued, channeling his inner philosopher. "Ai Qian's miserable with Liang Zhenlun."
The table erupted in cackles. "Oh my god—did *Ai Qian* tell you that? If she's so unhappy, why's she still with him?" Tears of mockery glinted under the strobe lights.
"Leave." Li Shurui's command sliced through the laughter.
Luo Peng materialized, yanking Jiang Chen's arm. "Let's go. Bai Zheli's waiting."
Undeterred, Jiang Chen locked eyes with Shurui. "Can I get your number?"
Luo Peng gaped. *Didn't we just swear off simping?!*
"Give it up," a girl sneered. "Go chase Ai Qian. We're rooting for you~"
Li Shurui didn't even glance up. "I said *leave*."
As Luo Peng dragged him away, the girls' laughter trailed after them:
"Wow, the campus simp *really* lives up to his reputation! But why switch from Ai Qian to Shurui?"
"Delusional. Couldn't keep his ex, now aims for the queen? Pathetic."
Li Shurui sipped her drink, icy as ever. Swans didn't acknowledge pond scum.