Chapter 4 Lesson

Less than ten minutes later, Elinor Fernan rushed back, panting. As soon as she entered, Su Zhiming questioned her with a stern face, "Where have you been?"

Bridget Foster was still lying on the couch with her eyes closed, while Sylvia Fernan was nearby, crying.

Elinor didn't respond. Instead, she walked straight up to Bridget and pressed something against her face.

A pungent odor wafted out.

"Ugh!"

Bridget's eyes flew open, and her scream filled the room as she turned pale and began to vomit on the floor.

"Mom! You're finally awake!" Elinor exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement. "I knew this method would work!"

Bridget shouted in disbelief, "What did you do to me?"

Elinor proudly explained, "The book said that if someone faints and pinching their philtrum doesn't work, you can try using something with a strong smell under their nose. It should help them wake up." She seemed quite pleased with herself, completely ignoring Bridget's horrified expression. "I just went to Mr. Malcolm's place to buy some stinky tofu..."

Bridget Foster absolutely hated the smell of stinky tofu. Every time she caught a whiff of it, she would complain for ages. So when she saw Elinor Fernan actually slap stinky tofu on her face, she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

"Ugh!" Bridget couldn't even be angry anymore; she started to vomit again. The foul smell mixed with the vomit made the room unbearable. Joshua Scott felt equally nauseated, instinctively covering his mouth and nose with his hand, his face twisted in disgust.

"You're talking nonsense! When did any book teach you this?" Sylvia Fernan stammered, pointing an accusatory finger at Elinor.

Elinor shot her a disdainful look. "With your poor grades, there's no way you'd know. Come back to me when you can top the class."

Sylvia Fernan, "......"

Joshua Scott, "......"

Bridget Foster, "Ugh!"

The entire night was a chaotic mess. Bridget was so sick that it felt like she was about to bring up bile. Finally, she deflated and collapsed onto the sofa, lying still as if she were dead.

Joshua Scott, disgusted by the stench coming from Bridget, made up an excuse to leave the room. This left Sylvia Fernan staring at Bridget, who was covered in bits of stinky tofu, unsure of how to help.

Just like Bridget Foster, Elinor Fernan couldn't stand the smell of stinky tofu. She thought it was the most disgusting thing and would never touch it with her hands.

"Elinor Fernan, get out here!" Sylvia Fernan's shrill voice echoed throughout the house.

Elinor opened the door and shot her a cold look. "You don't need to yell; I'm not deaf."

"Elinor, come clean this up!" Sylvia was on the verge of a breakdown. She hated the foul smell and couldn't even bring herself to start cleaning.

Elinor smirked. "Mom usually dotes on you. You should do something for her. Aren't you her favorite daughter? Why do you want to avoid it now?"

Sylvia trembled with anger. She had never faced such a setback in her life.

Taking a deep breath, she softened her tone and looked at Elinor as if pleading. "Elinor, you can't just stand by and let Mom deal with this alone. Even though she takes extra care of me, you're her daughter too."

Elinor rolled her eyes again, unable to hold back. "Whether you want to clean or not is up to you. I don't have time to waste talking to you. I need to study."

Back in her apartment, listening to the sounds of Bridget Foster retching painfully and Sylvia Fernan's continuous screams, Elinor felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her.

This was just the beginning. Compared to the suffering she endured in her past life, what these two were going through was nothing.

The next day was Saturday, and there were no classes at school.

Yet, Elinor Fernan woke up early. The Su family was still asleep, so she decided to go for a run alone, using the time to think about her next steps.

With the college entrance exams approaching, it was likely that Sylvia Fernan would take her spot at university again. She had to stop that from happening, but she still had no clear plan on how to do it.

Feeling anxious, Elinor walked down the street and spotted a shop selling soda. She pulled out fifty cents and bought a bottle, the cold drink temporarily easing her agitation.

She sat by the roadside, watching two people haggle in front of her.

"I'm telling you, this is an imported item! I've barely used it, just a little wear on the surface. A new one costs around eight or nine hundred, and I'm only letting it go for four hundred because I need the money urgently. Your offer is way too low; I can't sell it at that price," the seller, a middle-aged man in his forties, frowned deeply, clearly dissatisfied with the buyer's offer.

"Come on, uncle, don't try to fool me. You know this camera isn't worth much. At a second-hand market, it would only sell for about two hundred bucks. I'm already offering you fifty more; that's a fair deal. Think it over-if you don't sell it to me, no one else will want it," replied the young man, dressed in a worn-out white shirt and black pants.

The black-and-white combination gave off an inexplicable sense of cleanliness, causing Elinor Fernan to glance a few more times at the young man. She couldn't see his face clearly, but his back was quite attractive.

Noticing the middle-aged man hesitating, the young man added, "How about this? I'll throw in an extra twenty bucks, making it two hundred seventy. If you agree, I'll buy

it; if not, no hard feelings."

"Alright, two hundred seventy it is," the middle-aged man gritted his teeth and finally agreed.

The young man paid up without hesitation, and as the middle-aged man walked away, he held the camera in his hands with a smirk on his face.

He could easily flip it for at least four hundred bucks.

"Shady dealer," Elinor Fernan muttered under her breath, thinking he wouldn't hear her. To her surprise, he paused, turned around, and looked her way.

Whoever said that a buzz cut was the best way to judge someone's looks was spot on.

With fair skin, a sharply defined face, a high nose, and narrow eyes that slightly squinted with dissatisfaction,he stared at her.

Elinor quickly pretended to look elsewhere to avoid his gaze, but the young man walked over to her.

Bending slightly to examine her, he asked, "What did you just say?"

His intense presence carried a slight chill, and for a moment, Elinor felt a rush of nervousness under his scrutiny. However, she quickly composed herself, met his gaze, and repeated what she had just said.

"I say you're a shady dealer!"

The young man scoffed, "Oh really? How am I a shady dealer?"

"That camera, with a little cleanup, could easily sell for two to three hundred bucks. You can't tell me that's not shady!"

"Looks like you know your stuff," the young man replied with a smirk, unfazed by the accusation. Instead, he seemed to take it as a compliment. "That camera is only worth about two hundred at a second-hand market. If I buy it for seventy less, the seller is still making a profit. For me, it's just business. I'd have to spend time and effort finding a buyer, so I can't afford to lose money."

Elinor Fernan couldn't argue with that logic, but she still felt he was a shady dealer. There was something about his face that just screamed "good guy," yet it felt off.

His narrow eyes, especially when squinting to size her up, reminded her of a fox-sharp and cunning, making her feel a bit uneasy.

She thought she recognized him from somewhere but couldn't quite place it.

"I'm done talking to you," Elinor said, finishing her soda. She stood up, brushed off the dirt from her clothes, and turned to leave.

"That girl is quite interesting," Tristan Edwards chuckled to himself as he picked up the camera and headed in the opposite direction.