Judging by the way he dressed and the exquisite box, the shoes inside should have a five-figure price tag.

There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. We were complete strangers, yet he came over and offered me a gift out of the blue. This made me wonder and felt the need to be cautious. Why would a stranger spend so much money just to help me out?

My feet were hurting, and I needed a pair of comfortable shoes. But not like this.

With this in mind, I politely smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you, Mister. But I don't need it."

"Why? Your feet are obviously hurting. Why refuse my help? Why endure when you can get comfortable?" The man raised an eyebrow, his playful expression deepening. His curiosity seemed to heighten as well.

Was he curious about me? Why?

He persisted by extending his hand and continuously pushing the box in my direction. I had to take a couple of steps back to maintain a polite distance.

"I specially brought this to you. Other women don't have this privilege." He tilted his chin up.

To me, this gesture seemed like he didn't know his place.

Compared to everyone else present, I was indeed terribly poor. But that didn't mean I had to endure anyone's insults.

They had their world, but I had my life. Everyone liked nice things, but I didn't want them if I didn't know where they came from-especially when I had to break some principles for them. I would rather not have

it.

Since I was young, Mom taught me that I should rely on my own efforts for everything rather than seeking handouts. That was because all handouts were traps set by others.

So, from a young age, I had carried myself with pride. I might be poor, but I wouldn't grovel to escape poverty.

This person's approach had hit a nerve in me.

I was someone who wore their emotions on their sleeve. While I had become more restrained over the years of studying and meeting all sorts of people, my core hadn't changed.

I didn't like being teased by strangers. So, I stopped smiling, and my eyes showed a coldness as I spoke indifferently, "I don't know you, and I don't want to know why you're giving this to me. What I can tell you is, please take it back. I don't need it. Also, I'd like to rest for a bit, so please don't disturb me."

"Doesn't your foot hurt? Why refuse someone's kindness?" The young man persisted in his pestering.

"Kindness from unknown people may bring more pain in the future than today's pain."

With that, I turned and left.

"Okay, okay, I won't tease you anymore. I never thought you would really get angry." He grabbed my wrist and stood in front of me with a smile. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Xavier King. My dad knows your foot was hurting, so he specifically asked me to bring this over."

Xavier King? He was the professor's son?

I stepped back out of his range and examined him from head to toe. He looked young and innocent, except for the bit of mischievousness in his personality. He was practically an underaged kid. Instinctively, I looked up and saw the professor holding a glass of wine. He nodded slightly from the second-floor window.

I licked my lips in uncomfortable embarrassment and turned away with a wry smile.

I must have been too nervous just now that I made a fool of myself.

And this brat, why didn't he say so earlier? He made me mistake him for a bad guy trying to hit on me. How embarrassing!

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