A Heart Despised
I dragged my half-worn suitcase, following the tall figure ahead as we stepped onto the University campus.
The suitcase's wheels had broken last winter and had been repaired twice, yet they still weren't smooth. On the cobblestone path, it stumbled and rattled, making a rattling sound—eerily echoing the mix of excitement and nervousness thrumming inside me.
Walking ahead was Frank Collins. The two of us had grown up in the same courtyard ever since we were kids.
When we were little, he always liked to snatch my candied hawthorns, yet he would stand behind me, shielding me whenever other kids bullied me.
From elementary school to high school, our desks were always separated by an aisle. The little notes he passed me in class are still tucked inside my old textbooks.
On the day the college entrance exam results were released, just as dawn was breaking, I sat on the sofa clutching my phone, my fingers repeatedly refreshing the score page.
Suddenly, I heard Frank's loud shout from downstairs. I hurried to the window and saw him holding up his phone, sweat pouring down his forehead, his voice echoing through the entire building: "Nora Xavier! We got into the same University! Don't forget what we said back then—if we both got in, we'd go to the same place together!"
At that moment, I was leaning against the window, watching him sweat heavily yet smile so brightly, my cheeks flushing instantly as I gently nodded toward the street below.
Back then, I truly believed that from wearing our school uniforms to university, and through all the days to come, we would walk together steadily, just like that little river in the County Town that never changes its course.
But I never expected that the dazzling chaos of the big city would so quickly reshape people's hearts.
The school gate was crowded with students and parents reporting in; the roll of suitcase wheels, parents' reminders, and senior students' directions blended into a lively chorus that left me feeling a little overwhelmed.
Frank Collins was carrying my suitcase, veins standing out on his arms, yet he kept turning back to remind me, "Don't get lost, there are too many people."
I hurried to keep up, tightening my grip on the canvas bag.
This canvas bag was bought by my mom last year; its corners were already a bit worn, but it was my favorite shade of blue.
"Got it. Just slow down a bit, the wheels on this suitcase are about to fall off."
He glanced back at the suitcase in my hand, smirked slightly, said nothing, but still slowed his pace.
I was just about to pull the campus map from my bag to check the location of the registration office when a silver luxury car suddenly screeched to a stop beside us.
The car window slowly rolled down, revealing a face framed by delicate makeup; her long eyelashes fluttered like tiny fans, eyeshadow a soft wash of pink.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where the registration office for the School of Economics and Management is?" Her voice was soft and sweet, like cotton candy melting on the tongue.
When her gaze swept over Frank Collins, it visibly brightened, as if she'd found something intriguing. When it fell on me, it softened again—a look of mild disdain like a thin veil, barely hiding it, so anyone could see straight through.
Frank Collins immediately stopped and leaned forward slightly, his tone much gentler now: "Go that way; the third tent is the one. There's a sign for the School of Economics and Management at the entrance. It's easy to spot."
"Thank you." The girl smiled, revealing two faint dimples, and gently tapped her fingertips on the car window ledge, as if sending a secret signal.
The car whooshed past in an instant, the exhaust carrying a faint scent of gardenia perfume. When that scent brushed my nose, I couldn't help but wrinkle my brow.
Frank Collins stared at the taillights for a long moment, until the car slipped into the tree-lined avenue and disappeared from view. Then he turned to me with a sigh, "City girls really are different. Look at how she's dressed, her hair curled just right, and those clothes—so stylish, you can tell she has class.""Nora Xavier, you should start buying some makeup too. Don't always go bare-faced; it makes you look too plain. Compared to them, you're on a completely different level."
I tightened my grip on the canvas bag's strap, my fingertip brushing over the pilled fabric. The rough texture stirred a faint ache in my chest.
"I think things are fine as they are. And makeup is expensive. My living allowance is limited, and I still need to save up for textbooks."
"If your living expenses aren't enough, why don't you ask your family for more?" Frank Collins frowned, a trace of impatience creeping into his voice, as if I were making excuses. "Besides, didn't you find a part-time job in the cafeteria? You can earn a few hundred a month. Saving up for a lipstick should be doable—it's not that expensive."
I bit my lip and said nothing more.
I planned to save the money I earned from my part-time job to help with living expenses. My parents worked shifts at a small factory in the County Town; my father's back was bad, and my mother's hands would crack and bleed in winter. Their combined monthly salary was just over four thousand, and they still had to support my younger brother through middle school. How could I ask them for extra money to buy makeup?
Frank Collins saw that I stayed silent and didn't mention it again, but his pace quickened. I had to jog to keep up.
At the time, I didn't realize that this unnoticed frown had quietly cracked a small fissure in the years of our friendship.
Our dorm room is on the Third Floor, a four-person room facing south with plenty of natural light.
When I pushed open the dorm room door, there was already someone inside — the girl who had just asked for directions at the school gate.
She was sitting at the desk unpacking an express delivery, her nails painted with sparkling polish. Several boxes with foreign print lay on the desk, and beside them was a shiny makeup mirror framed by a ring of small lights.
"Hello, my name's Linda White. I'm in this dorm too, so from now on, we're roommates." She looked up at me, smiling and waving, but her gaze first fell on the suitcase in my hand, then drifted to my faded white T-shirt. The surprise in her eyes was unmistakable, as if she hadn't expected anyone to bring such an old suitcase to school. "Your suitcase looks pretty sturdy. You've had it for years, haven't you?"
I pinched the hem of my shirt and smiled a little shyly. "Yeah, I bought it in high school, thinking I could use it for a few more years. Since it still works, I didn't get a new one. My name's Nora Xavier."
"Nora Xavier. That's quite a memorable name." Linda White lowered her head and kept unpacking the express delivery. She took out a clear bottle from a pink box, filled with pale golden liquid. The bottle was labeled with English words I didn't recognize. "Do you use skincare products? This serum is really good, though it's a bit expensive—one bottle costs twelve hundred. But the moisturizing effect is amazing; my face doesn't feel dry at all during winter."
Twelve hundred? My heart sank. That was three months' worth of my living expenses, money my parents would have to work several days at the factory to earn.
I quickly shook my head. "I don't use those. I usually just put on some baby cream, and I think that's moisturizing enough."
"The baby cream isn't nearly enough," Linda White paused her actions, turned to look at me, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. "Girls need to start caring for their skin early, or they'll end up with wrinkles later on. By the time you try to fix it, it might be too late. Oh, and that guy at the school gate with you just now—he must be your boyfriend, right? He's quite handsome, but his clothes are a bit plain. You should buy him something decent to wear; you can't keep letting him dress like a high schooler. People will laugh at him at university."
Just as she said this, Frank Collins came in carrying my bedding and overheard every word. His ears flushed bright red—whether from embarrassment or annoyance, I couldn't tell.
He tossed my bedding into the corner without greeting Linda White, then grabbed my wrist and pulled me along. "I'll take you to see the teaching building and the cafeteria. Don't just stay in the dorm room all the time—get to know the campus better."
As we stepped out of the dormitory building, the wind blew, and I quietly asked him, "What's wrong? You ignored Linda when she spoke to you earlier—that was so rude."
"What's there to say to her?" Frank Collins shook off my hand, his tone a little sharp, the spot on my wrist where he gripped still warm. "But she's not wrong. Those few clothes of mine really need to be replaced—they've been worn for two years. Tomorrow's the weekend; you'll come shopping with me for a jacket at the mall, and we might as well look at some shoes while we're at it."
"Going to the shopping mall?" I hesitated, my steps faltering. "The clothes at the shopping mall are pretty expensive. There are a few clothing stores right by our school gate. They have nice clothes too, and they're cheaper. A jacket there costs just over two hundred. Let's go take a look there."
"What do you know?" Frank Collins cut me off, his brow furrowing deeper. "The stuff at the shopping mall is branded, good quality. Wearing it out carries weight. When you go out with classmates, you won't be looked down on." Linda White said boys need to pay attention to their image too; otherwise, no one wants to hang out with you. The boys in the city all dress like that."
I watched him with that earnest expression, a lump forming in my chest.
Back when we were in the County Town, he wore T-shirts that cost only a few dozen, paired with jeans, and he still smiled so happily. He used to tell me, "As long as the clothes are comfortable, there's no need to buy expensive ones."
How come after just a few days at university, he's already become so focused on these outward things?
That weekend, I still went with Frank Collins to the shopping mall.
The mall was crowded, the air conditioning blasting away, creating a sharp contrast with the hot air outside.
He headed straight for the rooftop sportswear store, eyes scanning the shelves. He picked up a black jacket and held it up against himself. "Nora Xavier, what do you think of this? The style's pretty nice, and it's just over eight hundred—not too expensive, right?"
I leaned over to glance at the price tag; the number "899" stood out sharply, more than my entire monthly allowance.
I tugged on his sleeve, lowering my voice, "It's too expensive, let's keep looking. There's a store ahead where clothes cost just over two hundred, with similar styles and pretty good quality."
"Can clothes that cost just over two hundred really last?" Frank Collins put the jacket back, his face clouding with displeasure. "Nora Xavier, why are you so stingy? My mom sent me a thousand to buy something decent. Can't you just support me a little? Look at Linda White — her boyfriend bought her a bag last time for over two thousand, and she didn't even bat an eye." Look at you again. We've been together so long, and you've never bought me a gift over a hundred. Don't you love me at all?
"I'm not stingy..." My eyes welled up, and my nose tingled. I remembered how, after the college entrance exam, I worked a summer job for a month in a restaurant in the County Town, serving dishes and washing plates every day. My hands had several blisters, but I finally saved up three hundred to buy Frank Collins the sneakers he'd been longing for.
He was so happy back then that he told everyone, "These are from my girlfriend," and kept the shoes spotless, almost afraid to wear them.
"I just don't see the point in spending that much. We're still students, and it's all our parents' hard-earned money..."
"Enough, enough, stop it!" Frank Collins snapped impatiently, raising his voice so that people passing by began to glance over. "I've told you — you don't get it. I'll buy it myself! No need for you to worry!"
He turned and headed straight for the cashier to pay. When the cashier handed him the shopping bag, the tension on his face eased just a bit.
With the bag in hand, he walked ahead without a word, his steps noticeably quicker.
I trailed behind him, watching the shopping bags he carried, a sharp ache pricking my chest—as if countless needles were piercing me, leaving me breathless.
From that point on, Frank Collins grew increasingly attentive to his attire.
He began binge-watching fashion videos, followed several style influencers on his phone, and often dragged me along to the shopping mall.
Whenever he spotted a piece of clothing or a pair of shoes he liked, no matter how costly, he'd buy it without so much as a blink at the checkout.
One time, we walked past a trendy brand store, and he fixated on a pair of jeans priced at over six hundred.
I couldn't help but ask him, "Does your mom give you enough money? She only earns a little over two thousand a month, and one piece of your clothing costs nearly a thousand. If you keep spending like this, the money will run out fast."
"My mom is willing to give me money to spend, so what's it to you?" Frank Collins rolled his eyes, a trace of disdain in his voice. "Besides, I'm not like you—I'm an only son. My parents' money will be mine someday. What's the harm in spending a bit now? You have a younger brother, so your parents will definitely save for him. Maybe you'll even have to support him in the future, so of course you need to be frugal. But I'm different."
"My little brother doesn't need me to provide for him!" I said, a little angry, my voice rising. "My parents promised they'd pay for his education and save a dowry for me. Don't keep saying things like that. My brother isn't that kind of person, and our family isn't what you think."
"Save a dowry? With your family's situation, how much can you really save?" Frank Collins sneered, the sarcasm in his voice sharp as a needle. "Nora Xavier, I'm not trying to be rude, but you're just too naive." Linda White said that nowadays girls need some kind of skill—either they're pretty enough to be unforgettable at a glance, or their family is wealthy enough to be helpful. Look at you—you have neither. How do you expect to live with me in the future? Do you want us to go through hard times together?"
Those words hit me like a bucket of cold water poured over my head, chilling me to the core, my fingertips tingling with cold.
I looked at Frank Collins before me; his face remained familiar, but the strangers' gaze in his eyes grew heavier and heavier.
The boy who used to spend his saved pocket money buying me candied hawthorns, who would race across the entire County Town to find me cold medicine when I was sick—how had he become like this now?
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