The fake heiress loves to act? The max-level boss isn't interested in playing along.

In the afternoon, the phone rang.

Fu Hua answered the phone; it was Zhang Wen calling.

"Huahua!"

Zhang Wen's voice came through the receiver, so excited she was almost shouting.

"My dad's back. He just arrived this afternoon, and he brought lots and lots of clothes."

And he even brought a designer from Guangzhou, and a model! A model! Tall and thin, with skin as white as snow, but not as pretty as you.

Fu Hua moved the receiver further away.

A smile involuntarily crept onto her lips: "Tell me slowly, is everything going well for Uncle Zhang?"

"Successfully! Extremely smoothly!"

Zhang Wen spoke as fast as firecrackers.

"The shop contract is signed. It's in Xidan, a great location. The renovation team will start tomorrow, and my dad says we can open in about two weeks. Huahua, you absolutely have to come to the opening ceremony!"

"Okay, I'll definitely go."

Fu Hua responded, her eyes fixed on the waveforms jumping on the instrument screen.

"And there's more!"

Zhang Wen continued, "Come over for dinner tonight! My mom made chicken soup, and my dad said we really need to thank you properly. I'll pick you up in a bit!"

Fu Hua glanced at the time. Her experiment was progressing well today, so it was fine to finish early.

"No need to pick me up, I'll go myself," she said. "But I might be a little late..."

"It's okay, take it easy!"

Zhang Wen interrupted her, her voice cheerful, "My mom went to buy groceries. Oh, by the way... there's something important that you need to decide today."

"What is it?"

Fu Hua asked,

"You'll see when you get here!"

Zhang Wen said mysteriously, "Huahua, my mom said you shouldn't buy anything, just come in person, don't be so polite every time."

"Okay, okay, I understand."

Fu Hua smiled and agreed.

"Okay! I'll be waiting for you!"

After hanging up the phone, Fu Hua began to calculate the last piece of data.

At 5:30 p.m., as I walked out of the research station building, the setting sun was just setting on the rooftop.

The entire park was bathed in a warm golden hue.

She walked to the bus stop.

The summer evening breeze caressed my cheeks, carrying the aroma of food wafting from the alleyways; everything was peaceful and harmonious.

Suddenly, a commotion arose from the bridge arch not far away.

It was the sound of children arguing.

She looked up toward the source of the sound and saw three dirty, teenage boys surrounding a small, thin figure.

They were snatching the steamed bun from the child's hand.

The little figure, with disheveled hair and barely clothed, was curled up on the ground, arms hidden under its stomach, desperately protecting the steamed bun.

She looks like a little girl.

There is a large, dark brown birthmark on my right cheek that can be seen from a distance.

She was shoved and fell to the ground, not crying, her neck stiff, her fingertips quickly tracing patterns on the muddy ground.

"Let go! Give me the steamed bun!"

The lead child grabbed her arm, while the other two tried to pry her hands off.

The little girl suddenly opened her mouth, her voice hoarse yet clear: "Three people, one steamed bun, 3 ÷ 1 = 3, 1 ÷ 3 = 0.333... Not enough, not enough."

She tilted her head, her fingertips tracing crooked numbers in the mud, one after another, without stopping.

Even though her wrist was being pulled painfully, her eyes remained glued to the numbers.

A stubborn streak shines through the chaos: "If there are too many odds and they are not divided equally, they will fight."

The leader of the group cursed, "You idiot," and pushed her head.

She swayed, her knees scraping muddy marks on the ground.

He stubbornly continued counting: "One steamed bun is two ounces, and one person has six qian and six jiao, not even enough to fill a tooth gap."

You Yue's pupils contracted sharply, and her fingers tightened.

When being bullied, the first reaction is to figure out the logic behind the distribution.

This is an innate sensitivity to numbers.

She had seen this scene before.

In her past life, when she first went to the orphanage, there were always people who tried to steal her food behind the director's back.

At that time, she was just like this little girl.

The steps already taken have been turned back.

She strode over, her voice cold and firm, without the slightest hesitation: "Stop."

The three children turned around, saw it was a pretty girl, and stared blankly for a moment.

In an instant, his eyes turned fierce: "Who are you? Mind your own business! This whole area is my territory."

Fu Hua didn't reply, but took out fifty cents from her pocket.

He held it between his fingertips and offered it to the lead child, his tone flat: "Let's go."

Five cents can buy two steamed buns and a piece of candy to sweeten your mouth.

The children's eyes lit up; they grabbed the money, called to their companions, and ran off in a flash.

The alley quieted down, and the little girl remained curled up, clutching the steamed bun even tighter.

His fingertips didn't stop, adding a horizontal line in the mud: "5 mao can buy two steamed buns divided into six pieces, three pieces of candy, two pieces of steamed buns and one piece of candy per person, just enough, no fighting, 1.5 mao for a sesame seed cake, 5-1.5-1.5=2, which can also buy two sesame seed cakes and one steamed bun, more filling, 5 mao can buy..."

They are indeed extremely sensitive to numbers!

Fu Hua squatted down: "Are you alright? They want steamed buns, just give them to them, your life is the most important thing."

The little girl looked up, her unfocused eyes filled with fear.

She clutched the steamed bun, repeatedly saying, "For Grandma... Grandma hasn't eaten..."

Fu Hua looked around, but the alley was deserted, and she didn't see any adults.

She doesn't look like someone who's been raised by an adult.

Fu Hua sighed, took out some change, and counted out four one-cent bills.

He folded it neatly and stuffed it into her dirty pocket.

He pressed his fingertip against the opening of his pocket: "Hide it well, don't let anyone see it."

The little girl reached into her pocket and clutched the four small bills.

He looked up, his fingertips tapping outside his pocket, counting quickly and accurately: "One, two, three, four, forty cents."

She tilted her head, a glint of light flashing in her eyes.

"We can buy one steamed bun and one sesame seed cake. Grandma will eat the sesame seed cake, and I will eat the steamed bun. That's just enough."

Fu Hua's eyes flickered slightly as she watched the muddy fingers earnestly gesturing.

He couldn't help but recall how he used to do mental arithmetic silently when he was a child, and his Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

She didn't say anything, but patted her pocket again.

"Go find Grandma, remember, life is the most important thing."

Her cold and reserved personality is largely due to her experiences in her past life.

If not, then enough forbearance.

I'm afraid he won't live to see the day when the dean discovers his talent.

In orphanages, gender and age don't matter; might makes right.

The law of the jungle is being applied to the fullest extent.

The sound of a bus horn came from the street corner. She stood up and looked at the little girl's back with a deep gaze.

Truly talented children will not be overlooked.

……

The rich aroma of stewed chicken soup could be smelled even before entering the door.

Fu Hua, carrying a watermelon, pushed open the door and went inside.

Zhang's mother brought out a large plate of steamed fish from the kitchen.

"Huahua, you're here!"

When Zhang's mother saw her, her eyes crinkled into crescent moons with laughter. "You silly child, didn't I tell you not to take anything?"

"Why are you carrying this watermelon? It's so heavy!"

Fu Hua smiled and said, "I didn't buy it on purpose. I just happened to see it being sold at the entrance, so I bought it."

"Come on, give it to me quickly."

Zhang's mother smiled and took it.

Zhang Wen rushed out of the house and grabbed Fu Hua's hand: "You're finally here! My dad's inside, waiting for you to look at the sample garments together."

Just then, Zhang's father came out of the main room.

He was a bit darker and thinner than the last time I saw him.

He was full of energy, and his eyes were incredibly bright.