The days started to blur together into this endless, grueling rhythm of work, fake school, and exhaustion. I seriously didn't remember what it felt like to actually relax anymore; my life was just a constant loop of pretending during the day and scrubbing mildew off industrial washing machines at night. The hours at the laundromat were brutal, but I was stubbornly putting every single penny I earned into a hidden shoebox under my floorboards—my own pathetic little secret bank account. I'd sit there every Sunday night, counting the crumpled bills and updating the ledger in my small notebook, and that was the only time I felt a true, cold sense of satisfaction, knowing I was one step closer to getting my family out of this hellhole.
My resentment toward Liang Xu wasn't that frantic, hot rage anymore; it had morphed into something much colder and more dangerous, like a block of ice with sharp edges. Every ache in my back, every rough spot on my detergent-chapped hands, and every minute of lost sleep was mentally filed away and assigned a dollar value. I viewed my exhaustion as currency, paid for by that rich bastard's cruelty. I didn't hate him loudly or emotionally; I hated him patiently, mathematically, calculating exactly how many more hours I needed to work to finally break free of his control and ruin his little game of power. I was transforming my pain into power, one grueling shift at a time, completely focused on the bigger picture.
My parents still believed the stupid lie about the online school, which was a huge relief, but they worried about how tired and quiet I was all the time. I just brushed them off, saying the night shifts were intense but necessary, and they couldn't argue because the extra cash I brought home really helped with the bills, sadly. I knew I was being short and distant, but I felt like I had to build a wall around myself to stay safe and focused. The real world—the world of work and survival—was so much harder and colder than the pathetic drama of high school, but it had given me a new, unbreakable purpose: freedom for my sister, bought with my own endless exhaustion and fueled by my quiet, burning hatred for the tyrant who forced me into this new life.
Months passed like this, just a constant, silent grind. I saw my savings grow from a handful of bills to a respectable wad of money, and every milestone fueled my determination. I wasn't the weak, pathetic kid who cried in his pillow anymore. I was a quiet survivor, a cold engine of revenge planning an escape, and I knew that Liang Xu had no idea he had accidentally created his own enemy, one who was getting stronger and more focused with every miserable late-night shift.