章節 1133: Chapter 758 Miss Goth Hits a Bad Patch (Part 3)_1
A beautiful girl crying, a handsome gentleman passing by. It seemed like something straight out of a fairy tale, an encounter even Tracy herself couldn't have predicted but she quickly realized, this was the perfect opportunity.
She instantly covered her mouth with a handkerchief, glanced at Bruce, and then continued to cry.
In Tracy's plan, Bruce would approach her as a perfect gentleman, asking what is wrong and she could then share her recent encounter.
The first part went smoothly, Bruce did approach and looked at her before asking, "What's wrong?"
"I...I was..." Tracy sobbed, "I was just a little late and the professor...he actually made me stand outside as punishment! It's my first day as a new student, I didn't even know when class began..."
"Oh, you're a preparatory student?" Bruce reassessed her, seeming a little incredulous. "Someone made you stand outside? Who?"
Tracy secretly rejoiced. To her ears, Bruce sounded like he was going to stand up for her. "It was the professor who was registering new students. I saw the name on the application form...Schiller, Schiller Rodriguez..."
"I have other matters, I need to go."
In the instance before Tracy could respond, Bruce disappeared, leaving her standing there, like a statue ready to crack.
It was a while before Tracy snapped back to reality. She hit the wall with her hand but the pain made her scream. She gritted her teeth and followed in Bruce's footsteps.
Once she reached the library, though, Tracy could not go in because she didn't have the Gotham University student card yet. The preparatory students' cards hadn't been printed yet, so they couldn't access the library.
Tracy took a deep breath. She stood in the cold wind outside the library, her teeth chattering. How long could a playboy like Bruce pretend to study in the library? If she waited outside the library, he would surely come out in a dozen minutes or so.
But she waited for four hours.
Tracy's entire body was frozen stiff, while Bruce still engrossed himself in his studies without looking up.
Only when he put down his book to go to lunch did he notice Tracy shivering at the door.
But he only glanced at her before moving on. Tracy caught up with him, her speech slightly slurred, "Mr. Wayne, please wait. I don't know where the cafeteria is. Can you take me there?"
This was a specially planned encounter scenario. Generally speaking, no male would reject a beautiful woman asking for directions, especially when she had just been crying. She should look pitiful right now.
Maybe it's because Tracy did not have experience with scenarios like this. In Bruce's eyes, she was a crazy woman, her hair a mess from the wind, face red from the cold, lips turning white, with her runny nose staining her lips.
Setting aside the fact he was currently focused on studying, even if he encountered such a woman on the street in normal circumstances, he would probably send her to a mental health facility.
Bruce continued walking forward, ignoring Tracy, who kept trailing after him. He did not try to stop her.
He was very used to being pursued by various women. As long as he didn't respond, they would retreat after a while.
After all, for these social butterflies, face is the most important thing. Even if the one they pursue is Bruce Wayne, if they chase someone and make a fool of themselves, their reputation in their circles would plummet.
When they reached the cafeteria, Bruce walked directly in. But Tracy, finally seeing her own reflection in the glass, realized how she looked.
She shrieked and rushed into the nearby bushes, desperately trying to restore her appearance. But when she made it back to the cafeteria, Bruce was nowhere to be found.
Bruce, who was eager to get back to writing his paper, finished his meal in just ten minutes. He was now back in the library at his seat.
Tracy was cold and hungry, but was not willing to give up. She put a plan into action, used some tricks she had prepared beforehand, managed to strike up a conversation with a random male student, and got his student card.
Claiming that the male student was her boyfriend, Tracy successfully managed to enter the library and get a seat across from Bruce.
While Bruce was entirely focused on writing his paper, Tracy tried to strike up a conversation, faked a cough, went to refill Bruce's water, bumped his arm while pouring the water, and gently kicked the crossbeam under the table with her toes.
Most people would have experienced, when they are focused on doing something, that their senses become extremely sharp. Any slight movement can disrupt their train of thought, and Tracy was just short of dancing in front of Bruce. Finally, Bruce couldn't take it anymore.
"Could you please leave?" Bruce finally looked up at Tracy, "I have no interest in you, you're not in my aesthetic or mate selection range. Can you please disappear from my sight?"
In order to save time, Bruce used the most simple words to explain the situation. But to Tracy, this was like the worst humiliation.
She froze in place, letting out a sharp scream. At this point, the librarian walked over and said, "There's no loud disturbances allowed in the library. Miss, what seems to be the problem?"
Tracy pointed at Bruce and shouted, "This bastard! This damned, unreasonable scoundrel and thug!!!"
Her upbringing in the church school had greatly limited her cursing vocabulary. Additionally, because of her lacking education, Tracy spoke illogically and emotionally, appearing crazy.
The librarian repeated, "Please leave, Miss, you are disrupting the library's order."
"I won't leave! You're in cahoots with him, all of you bastards!!!"
Suddenly, Tracy froze as if choked, because a dark hole of a gun barrel had appeared before her.
The librarian held a long-barreled shotgun at Tracy's head, then gently swung the barrel, signaling her to leave with his eyes.
Never in Tracy's life had she been so close to the barrel of a gun. This instinctual fear overcame her in an instant.
Her privileged upbringing caused her to forget that she was in Gotham, the most dangerous city in America and the world. Nearly everyone here was a vicious criminal, including these seemingly ordinary people with ordinary jobs.
Tracy ran out of the library fearfully and frantically, completely losing her elegant image, her hair in complete disarray, her hairpins lost somewhere, and her face covered in tears and snot, she looked miserable.
But all of this was just the beginning, and there were scarier things to come.
Tracy returned to the vocational college's academic building and saw the teacher leading Class 3 students in practical exercises.
Today, they were learning the most basic skills: how to change a truck tire. It may seem simplistic, but it's a useful skill. If mastered, at least some change can be made from truck drivers.
All the students were enthusiastic, including the girls. Even though the truck tires were nearly taller than them, they still worked in groups of three or four. One person handled the wrench while the rest transported the tire, and then rolled in a new one to replace it.
Tracy stood dumbfounded at the edge of the field when Shiller came over. He pointed at Tracy with his umbrella and asked, "What's the matter? Why are you standing there dumbfounded? Have you cried enough? If you're done crying, hurry up and get to class."
Shiller showed extraordinary patience, not because Tracy was particularly likeable, but because of her unique background. It was understandable that the rich girl needed time to adapt.
With Tracy still standing there crying, Shiller could only say, "You've already skipped two classes this afternoon. If this continues, I'll have to talk to your mother and see if there's any need for you to stay…"
"No... No!" Tracy immediately denied, she said, "You can't talk to my mother, she'll be furious!"
Tracy swallowed and slowly moved towards the nearest truck.
But nobody wanted to work with her. It was obvious to anyone that she probably couldn't even lift a wrench, let alone turn a screw or lift a tire.
In the end, it was the teacher who mediated the matter, assigning the two strongest boys and a girl to Tracy's team. All she had to do was collect the screws.
Her hair scattered, Tracy squatted on the ground picking up screws while crying. But she had to keep picking while crying.
After all, her teammates were the strongest freshmen, and here in Gotham, being strong meant holding a place in the mob. Naturally, their images wouldn't be too friendly.
Amongst the two boys, one had a full sleeve tattoo, and the other had half of his arm and back covered. The African American girl had braided hair, a lip ring and four or five earrings. She cursed another African American from the neighboring team in African-American slang, her voice echoing across the field.
The African American girl swung the wrench, removing a large bolt in a few short bursts. Watching her muscular arm, Tracy swallowed the complaint she had at the tip of her tongue.
She'd heard many legends about the slums - tales of gang fights killing dozens, with bodies piling up, serial killers who specifically targeted women, lovers who'd dismembered each other...
In her blurry consciousness, these horrific events continuously played out in Tracy's mind, leaving her unsure if she was trembling due to the cold or fear.
To shake off this feeling, she had to distract herself with work. Right now, all she could do was pick up screws from the ground.
Even though the screws weren't heavy and the task didn't require any skill, after squatting for over three hours, Tracy was almost out of breath.
After she returned to her dorm, she completely forgot about bathing, she simply wanted to sleep.
Amid her roommate's snoring, filled with despair, Tracy lay on her bed and then everything went black.
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