Zhao Zhenzhen stood in front of the bathroom mirror for at least ten minutes.
Anyone would freeze for a while if a Virtual Lightbulb suddenly popped up above their head.
Was this a Golden Finger that came with the transmigration?
Zhao Zhenzhen tentatively tapped the Virtual Lightbulb, and a Virtual Window popped open.
Name: Zhao Zhen (Zhen)
Age: 17
Identity: 12th grader at a New York high school
Life Memory: Movie-watching
An impatient pounding came at the door. “Zhao! How much longer are you going to stay in there! You’re way over time!”
American English with a bit of slang.
Zhao Zhenzhen pulled the door open and looked up to see a face with furrowed brows and barely concealed annoyance.
This was Kate, the eldest daughter of her host family’s landlord.
Kate glared at Zhao Zhenzhen, holding back her anger. “Done?”
“Done.” Zhao Zhenzhen nodded.
As she passed by, she glanced up at the Virtual Lightbulb above Kate’s head.
Unlike her own milky-white one, Kate’s was bright yellow, and it pulsed faintly as if it were breathing.
Zhao Zhenzhen stopped in her tracks. “Kate.”
“What?” Kate had deep-set brows, and even the slightest irritation made her look fierce. She was clearly a hot-tempered beauty with a bad personality.
“I’m sorry I took so long—it’s because my period started.” Zhao Zhenzhen looked at Kate sincerely.
Kate’s expression visibly relaxed. Her tone was still stiff, but much softer than before. “…Fine.”
She shrugged, then stared at Zhao Zhenzhen’s pale face for a moment before she couldn’t help but say, “I have some painkillers. Do you want one?”
The bright yellow Virtual Lightbulb shifted back to a warm white.
Zhao Zhenzhen smiled. She had a rough idea now of what her Golden Finger was.
But she still needed to test it a few more times.
“Thanks, but I still have some. I won’t keep you any longer.”
Zhao Zhenzhen returned to her room, changed out of her pajamas, grabbed her backpack, and headed downstairs.
“Morning, Mrs. Dalins.” Zhao Zhenzhen greeted her host.
Mrs. Dalins looked up at her, neither warm nor cold. “Morning.”
She gestured with her chin toward the plate on the table. “Breakfast.”
“Okay, thank you.” Zhao Zhenzhen’s smile was a little forced.
Back when she used to browse the internet and see people making fun of white-people food, she’d only found it amusing. But it wasn’t so amusing when she was the one eating it.
Two slices of toast, a thumb-sized pat of butter on the side of the plate, and a glass of milk. That was breakfast.
And of course, the milk was cold. Probably just taken straight out of the fridge.
Zhao Zhenzhen spread the butter on the bread, folded it into a roll, and wrapped it in a paper napkin. “Mrs. Dalins, I’m off to school.”
Right. The original owner of this body was also an international student, now in her senior year, and she had to go to school.
She herself had graduated years ago—never mind high school, she’d already forgotten even her middle school knowledge completely.
And her grades back in school had been average at best. Her English scores had barely scraped by every single time.
Now she’d been dropped straight into New York as an international student.
And in New York in the year 2000, no less.
There was literally nothing she could say.
Zhao Zhenzhen let out a sigh.
“Zhao.” Mrs. Dalins wiped her hands on her apron. “I checked my account—your parents haven’t transferred next quarter’s rent yet. You might want to give them a call.”
Seeing Zhao Zhenzhen’s slightly dazed expression, Mrs. Dalins added, “You have ten days left before your rent is due.”
“Oh, okay.” Zhao Zhenzhen seemed to snap back to reality and nodded. “I’ll call them in a bit.”
Mrs. Dalins nodded. Noticing Zhao Zhenzhen hadn’t touched the milk, she asked, “Aren’t you going to drink it?”
“Too cold.” Zhao Zhenzhen shook her head. “I’m used to drinking it hot.”
Mrs. Dalins shrugged. “Alright, then. I’ll take it away.”
Zhao Zhenzhen raised an eyebrow slightly and glanced at the Virtual Lightbulb above Mrs. Dalins’s head.
Milky white.
“Mrs. Dalins, next time could you please heat it up for me?” Zhao Zhenzhen said. “My stomach isn’t great—cold food gives me diarrhea.”
Mrs. Dalins’s eyes widened a little, and in those dark brown eyes, slightly sunken from overwork, there was a hint of bewilderment and shock.
As if she were saying, “So you’re that fragile?!”
Zhao Zhenzhen nodded and pointed at her own face. “I just got back from the hospital. Look at my face.”
East Asians tend to have smaller bone structure, and Zhao Zhenzhen was indeed still quite small—seventeen years old—paired with a deathly pale face, she looked like a pitiful little thing.
The kind that would make an overly emotional, dramatic white housewife coo, “Oh… my poor dear.”
Of course, it also helped that Zhao Zhenzhen had a very well-behaved look about her—the kind of studious, obedient look that made elders dote on her twice as much.
Mrs. Dalins’s expression softened a few degrees. “Alright.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dalins,” Zhao Zhenzhen said.
She waved at her and headed out the door.
The host family that her original body’s parents had found was at least in a decent environment, and it fit the stereotypical white family that Zhao Zhenzhen knew from movies.
A detached two-story house, a lawn that was a must-have in front of the house, and a white old lady who pretended to tend to her flowers and plants early in the morning while actually spying on the neighbors.
Zhao Zhenzhen stood by the roadside waiting for the school bus, nibbling on a slice of buttered bread.
Although she really wanted to tap on the bright yellow lightbulb above that old lady across the street, what mattered more right now was sorting herself out.
Her original body’s name was Zhao Zhen, from Hong Kong.
Her parents had run a small family restaurant. Though they worked from dawn till dusk, their finances were decent.
Zhao Zhen had enjoyed a few good years.
Until her biological mother fell ill and died when she was nine, and her life started going downhill.
Because less than six months after her mother’s death, her father brought home another woman—along with a little boy.
That boy, only half a year younger than her, turned out to be her father’s seed!
So her father had been cheating all along.
From then on, Zhao Zhen lived with a father who couldn’t care less, a sharp-tongued and mean stepmother, and a hyper-aggressive half-brother.
She barely managed to endure until she was sixteen. After getting her junior high diploma, she planned to stop studying and find a job to support herself. She was sick of staying at home.
But that little brat—he tore up her graduation grades and certificates!
Without those documents, Zhao Zhen couldn’t find any decent job.
Zhao Zhen couldn’t take it anymore and got into a fight with him. But she’d been deprived ever since her stepmother arrived—small and skinny as she was, she was no match for her tall, sturdy brother.
Not only did she end up covered in bruises, but her stepmother also played the victim and accused her first.
Her biological father had long since turned a blind eye to her. Aside from feeding and clothing her, all he wanted was peace at home.
As for whether that peace came at the cost of his daughter being squeezed and bullied, he didn’t care. He just wanted an easy life.
But the daughter who had always been easy suddenly stopped being easy, which sent the scumbag father into a rage.
Her stepmother also seized the opportunity to stir the pot on the side—and that was how her original body ended up being sent to New York, America, to study.
Ever since her stepmother came into the picture, Zhao Zhen had to help out at the restaurant every day. She couldn’t eat well or sleep well, so her grades were naturally mediocre. She wasn’t particularly bright to begin with—graduating at all had taken every ounce of effort she had.
Applying to study abroad, getting a visa, and all the rest had eaten up another year of her time. By the time Zhao Zhen arrived here, how could she possibly focus on studying?
But what choice did she have? She could only grit her teeth and push through, telling herself that at least it was an opportunity. Maybe if she scraped by with a high school diploma here, she could go back to Hong Kong and call herself a study-abroad student.
Barely enough to count as having a gilded edge.
Zhao Zhenzhen sighed. The original owner had been too young and naive.
A stepmother who had treated her harshly since childhood—how could she possibly find a good school for her to attend?
If you want a good education, you’d better have the money ready first.
Would the stepmother spend money on Zhao Zhen?
Absolutely not.
Zhao Zhenzhen even suspected this was the stepmother’s excuse to openly abandon her stepdaughter.
And sure enough.
The original owner’s school was a public school—poorly funded, with a bad atmosphere. On top of that, the stepmother deliberately skimped on money, leaving the original owner scraping by.
Many days she only ate one meal.
After school she still had to find odd jobs.
She barely survived for half a year like that, until two days ago she finally collapsed from malnutrition, was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, and spent the night there.
Then the hospital bill came.
Even after the student insurance, she still had to pay $5,000!
In 2000! Five thousand! Dollars!!
Never mind the original owner—even Zhao Zhenzhen’s vision went dark when she heard that.
Zhao Zhenzhen even suspected that the original owner had been scared out of her soul by that bill, which was what pulled her here.
Thanks for the invite. Just transmigrated, currently in New York, in debt $5,000.
What does a catastrophic start look like? This is it.
Damn it, she wanted to go home! She didn’t want to eat white people food!
Zhao Zhenzhen chewed her bread viciously.
That was when the school bus pulled up.
It stopped in front of her with a “pfft,” and the door creaked open. Zhao Zhenzhen locked eyes with the Black driver in the driver’s seat.
He didn’t say a word, just shot her an impatient look, as if to say, “Damn brat, get your ass on the bus!”
Zhao Zhenzhen didn’t move. She turned to look at the rest of the bus.
The inside of the bus was absolute chaos. Seven or eight people were dancing in the aisle to music, while the rest sat in their seats, slapping the backs of the chairs and cheering them on.
Some looked annoyed, silently putting on headphones, pulling up their hoods, and closing their eyes to pretend to sleep.
Others looked at the dancing celebrities with envy, cowering timidly to the side.
None of that mattered. The question was—why were all the names on the bus red or yellow?!
Holy crap, she was a white name getting on there. That was way too dangerous.
Damn it, she wanted to go home! She didn’t want to eat white people food! And she definitely didn’t want to dance like a bunch of idiots with these lunatics!
Zhao Zhenzhen thought viciously once again.