Qin Yue grew up in an orphanage. Right after high school, she started working as a welder in a nearby factory, clocking over 14 hours a day. Her income was still meager—most of it sent back to the orphanage, leaving her just enough to rent a tiny room and eat the bare minimum to survive. As her coworkers put it, someone like her lived a life worse than the factory owner’s two dogs. But Qin Yue, who “lived worse than a dog,” had a secret: Shen Jianqing, a prestigious university professor with countless published papers and groundbreaking research achievements, was her lover. On the day Qin Yue was promoted to team leader, she treated her coworkers to a meal. She chose a spot on the commercial street near Shen Jianqing’s university, where the grand school gates loomed overhead. One coworker gazed enviously and remarked sourly, “Must take someone special to get into a place like this.” “And they’re definitely not our kind of people. Who cares how ‘special’ they are, right, boss?” another nudged Qin Yue’s shoulder. Qin Yue didn’t answer. Her calm gaze pierced through the rustling tree shadows, fixed on the gleaming windows of Teaching Building No. 3’s south side, as she sipped her cheap beer in silence. After the meal, her coworkers left together. But Qin Yue lingered under a streetlight, motionless. When the woman behind the glass finally stepped down from the lectern and vanished from sight, Qin Yue pulled out her phone and sent a WeChat message: [I’m at the south gate of your school. Come out.] #Later, I stepped into the spotlight, standing as your equal#