“Katy.”
I turn, already bracing myself and, of course, it’s Zhao Lan. He’s gliding down the aisle like he owns the place, dressed head to toe in something expensive that probably costs more than my dorm fee. And his smile? It’s still infuriating and condescending as ever.
“You planning to enter this thing?” he asks, stopping just close enough to block my way.
I square my shoulders because I already know where this is going. With Zhao Lan, there’s always one direction: straight into his ego.
“Why?” I ask, folding my arms as people bump past me. “You considering the same thing?”
He huffs like I just insulted him. “I’m not considering, I will. A million will fund my great post-graduation plans.”
I bite back a groan. If I had a dollar for every time Zhao Lan used the word great since fre
