Chapter 95 This is where I live in the dormitory.

Although there was no blizzard, the snow clouds kept pressing down, making everything gray and hazy; it looked like it would be dark soon.

Wallet, passport, phone—you've got them all back. Now all you need to do is find out where you live. You need a good rest, and hopefully there'll be something nice to eat in the fridge when you get home. Have a hot meal first.

Once you put on the coat, you instantly feel warm again. With the fluffy hood up, you feel like you've returned to your warm and happy hometown.

You find a bus stop and sit down, tucking your hands into your sleeves, leaving only your fingertips showing, tapping and clicking on your phone screen.

Click to open the mini-program directly, and you can easily enter the file you need.

I flipped through the folder and found some admission notices, class schedules, and payment receipts. Further down, there was also an electronic copy of a student ID card.

Your name, photo, student ID, and major are clearly displayed.

You don't recognize the university's name anyway; the only thing that catches your attention is the translation of your major.

Currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in Tourism Management.

Tourism management?

You frowned.

It wasn't entirely unexpected. The fact that you woke up drunk in the snow gave you a good idea of ​​what kind of person the "you" in this instance was—not that Ruko couldn't drink and go to bars, but given your preconceived notions about the country, it's understandable that you might have some preconceived notions.

And this major almost confirms your guess.

No offense intended, but in Los Angeles, a country that isn't a popular destination for international students, this major is practically a "get by" major.

Why not learn a language like Ross? This kind of major has almost no real academic content, and the teachers probably don't care much. Many people just attend classes, slack off, and after a few years, they get a diploma and go back to their home country.

However, this is beneficial to you.

Although your identity is that of a student, you have come to realize that being a student who slacks off is much easier than being a student who studies diligently.

Putting aside everything else, the fact that you can avoid most risks by not having to leave your house every day is a huge advantage.

You felt a surge of joy.

Is this compensation for your disastrous start? Great!

You scrolled down again and finally found a screenshot of a student dormitory address.

The screenshot wasn't even in Rose's language; it came from a chat group between "you" and your parents. It also included many other chat logs instructing you on how to find your dorm room step by step, and suggesting you just take a taxi if necessary.

Well, he really is a typical example of a lazy bum who lacks independence.

But that would be even better for you. If your clothes and wallet are all from luxury brands, and your parents spoil you, you might actually be able to stay home for a whole month this time.

Feeling quite pleased with yourself, you exit the folder and then start scrolling through the chat list, hoping to find some other information that can help you understand "yourself" better.

It's okay if you don't slip, but if you do slip, your smile will crack open.

The most prominent item on the list wasn't school notices, friend groups, or student union posts, and as always, there was no family group chat with my parents. Instead, it was—

A huge number of purchasing agent groups.

AAA Moko Authentic LV Products - Diamonds - RMB

Overseas perfume wholesale "Rocket" original import

"Luo Si Guo Branded Handbags - Hot Selling Service, Authenticity Verification Supported"

"Flower Kingdom's 'Flagship' Leaves Internal Supply Channels 'Shining'"

As you stare at these group names, a strange, inexplicable feeling suddenly rises in your heart.

I swiped my finger across the screen, opened one of the groups, and casually scrolled through the chat history—

A message instantly grabs your attention.

[Group Owner] You: Sisters, the YSL Slim Velvet Matte Gel Sleeve is in stock! Limited quantity, first come, first served!

You stare wide-eyed, feeling like someone is hitting your scalp.

Group admin...is that you?

Are you a personal shopper?!

You opened other groups and scrolled through them one by one, only to find the situation was exactly the same—

You started all the purchasing agent groups!

Your heart races, and your fingers tap rapidly on the payment page, eager to check your income.

Recent week's earnings: 5300, 8200, 6100, 9900...

Balance: 87,520

You stare at that number, feeling a little dazed.

…Are personal shoppers making that much money?

But that doesn't make sense. It seems like "you" are running a luxury goods reselling business, and it appears to be a business you're the only one involved in. Then why is there such a large discrepancy between your expenses and income?

You immediately open the photo album to see if "yourself" has left any information before.

The photo album is full of pictures of various designer bags, cosmetics, and luxury goods. The photos are quite professionally taken and accompanied by many elegant captions.

"22 packs of Chanel are in stock, first come, first served!"

"Disney 999 Limited Edition Lipstick, available at Ouzhou Department Store!"

"LV monogram bucket bag, complete with receipts, verifiable worldwide!"

Clicking on these photos and staring at each one, the more I looked, the colder I felt.

These things were not taken by "you" yourself.

Putting everything else aside, can't you recognize your own fingers?

You quickly exited, opened your Taobao and Xianyu accounts, and sure enough—

Your account is selling these "authentic imported" products in large quantities, at prices even lower than those in domestic stores, with astonishing sales.

What kind of personal shopper can support the sales volume of such a large inventory?

Then you finally click on the last group.

Well, it turns out that everything from videos to pictures, even the live stream links, was "wholesale" sourced.

So, "you" are a fake personal shopper.

An inexplicable anxiety overwhelms you, and you have a feeling that something is very wrong.

Clicking into the Taobao store again, there was a fresh conversation with a buyer in the information:

Buyer: Is this bag authentic? Why can't I find it at the official store?

[Your reply]: Sister, we are a local channel in Los Angeles. There are some differences in coding between the Ou and Yatai products, but we guarantee that they are genuine!

Buyer: Are you sure? I feel like this looks fake.

[ni's reply]: That's right, I was just shopping for myself and also buying some good stuff for my sisters. Items that aren't at full price are bound to have some flaws. You can't expect to get the perfect items at a cheap price, can you? These brands are all handmade, so of course each one is different.

[Your reply]: I already stated when I added you that I have a bad temper and that you shouldn't question me. It takes a lot of time and effort for me to help others; I'm doing this purely out of kindness. You can ask anyone who says I have the best reputation. I consider anyone who buys from me a friend, but your constant questioning makes me feel very disrespected. I'm not short of money from helping you with this; I'm blocking you, and you can forget about buying anything from me again.

Buyer: Oh, that's not what I meant.

Buyer: Oh well, I've already bought it.

Buyer: Miss, don't be angry. It's not easy for me to buy a bag. Unlike you guys who have money and energy to travel around, that's why I'm afraid of losing money.

Buyer: Don't block me, I'll buy from you again in the future.

Your face darkened.

You don't even have any more sophisticated methods of forgery; you rely solely on deception.

As you continue scrolling through the chat history, you discover that many people have questioned your source of goods, but your "responses" always cleverly deflect the questions, using some seemingly professional jargon to confuse them. Or you simply intimidate them, putting on airs, acting as if others can only buy from you even though you are the one selling the goods.

The scariest thing is that many customers believed you and bought a bunch of "high-quality counterfeit goods" from you.

All the money I have is money earned through dishonest means.

It's obvious that "you" support yourself through these "personal shoppers," and the living expenses in your current account and the genuine luxury goods you own almost certainly come from the income from selling counterfeit goods.

You slowly exhale, a subtle sense of fear filling your heart.

The "you" in this instance... is a complete fake online shopping scammer.

You stare at your phone screen, your mind completely blank.

This isn't the first time you've adapted to a new role in a dungeon, but this time it feels completely different.

You can be an ordinary swindler, or a simple loafer, which is fine too, since it's not you or your family who are wasting money. But how can you be a swindler who makes a living by selling counterfeit goods?

You can even imagine that if something goes wrong one day, what awaits you will be no small matter; there are definitely legal liabilities in the instance similar to those in the real world.

You feel vaguely uneasy, you feel like you're sitting on pins and needles, no, you feel like you're sitting on a pot that's about to explode!

Will you delete the group and run away? But actually, if you scroll through the comments and the private chat windows that pop up from time to time, it's not hard to see that many of your customers are people who know the truth but pretend not to, relying on the exquisite lifestyle photos you post on your WeChat Moments to numb themselves with the thought that "a rich woman like you wouldn't lie," and buying "real bags" for a small amount of money.

Oh no, what should we do?

Let's play dead for now.

You slump into the chair.

You don't have the energy to deal with any of this right now, so just block all the online shopping groups, put your phone in your pocket, open the map navigation, and find your dorm first.

You need a quiet place to reflect on your "fake personal shopping life".

A dozen minutes later, you stood downstairs in your dormitory building, completely dumbfounded.

Is this a habitable place?

You're used to living in a studio apartment, and at the very least, you feel you can live in a four-person dormitory like Huaguo, which, while not luxurious, is at least habitable.

But the building in front of us is so dilapidated that it looks like it should have been demolished twenty years ago—

The stairwell walls were mottled, with peeling cement blocks revealing blackened bricks underneath, making it look like an abandoned factory.

The window had cracks and was covered with old, transparent tape, clearly repaired by someone to keep the cold wind out in winter.

The wooden door frame at the main entrance was crooked, and a piece of paper with "dormitory management regulations" that had been pasted and torn down repeatedly was hanging on it, the words of which were already blurred.

With your mouth agape, you're in a state of "fatal attack."

You look up and see a few pieces of underwear hanging on the window, swaying in the wind as if beckoning to you. The sight almost makes you take a step back.

A feeling of distrust arose uneasyly.

If this is where your future "safe house" is located, then you feel like you're really doomed.

The world of dungeons shouldn't be too much like reality yet also too far removed from it.

However, before you even stepped inside, the auntie who looked like the dormitory supervisor spotted you—and then started yelling and cursing at you!

You froze.

Of course you couldn't understand what the aunt was saying, but her tone was extremely unfriendly, as if she was accusing you of something.

You walk by with a forced smile, but the auntie isn't buying it at all. She stretches out her hand and makes a "money" gesture in your face.

I see.

She just wanted to "collect some kickbacks as usual"!

But you don't dare use the money you have right now. Anyway... she's the dorm manager, and she'll have to deal with other people in the future. We'll talk about it later.

So he lowered his head and pretended to be cowardly, and quickly ran upstairs, climbing three floors in one go amidst her shouts and curses.

You only stopped breathing heavily when the sounds downstairs completely disappeared, and stood in front of your dormitory door.

But you stopped again.

There were at least two pairs of winter boots of different sizes sitting by the door, one of which was ridiculously large. Were they men's boots?

You frowned, immediately checked the house number, and made sure you hadn't gone to the wrong place.

You gritted your teeth, inserted the key into the lock, and pushed the door open—

Then, the next second, you walked out and sat blankly in the hallway.

What did you just see?!

After waiting foolishly for a few minutes, a man soon pushed open the door and walked out with an impatient look on his face.

When he came out, he was still fastening his belt.

As you walk down the corridor, he even dares to glare at you sideways, his eyes full of impatience as if to say, "You're bothering me," while muttering something that doesn't sound pleasant at all.

I gave you a hard glare before swaggering away.

You feel like your whole body is about to crack open.

ha?

You will never again have the illusion of good fortune in advance.

Putting everything else aside, what kind of awful place have you moved into?

After waiting a few minutes, you finally mustered up the courage to go back into the room.

This time, there were no strange men in the room, and you finally got a clear look at "your roommate".

She was lying on the bed, her clothes disheveled, chewing gum, looking completely nonchalant.

Seeing you come in, she turned over, looking rather unhappy but managing a forced, friendly smile. She whispered, "I chased him away, but you can't report me, okay?"

Your lips twitched slightly; you bet your expression was quite something, but you just nodded mechanically.

You don't even want to delve into what she really means by "get rid of," you just want to wash your hands and calm down.

You walk into the bathroom, but as soon as you push the door open, you freeze in shock—

Your roommate's underwear is strewn all over the bathroom!

On the toilet seat, next to the sink, on the towel rack... it's even more outrageous than a laundromat!

You stand stiffly in front of the mirror, looking at yourself.

The reflection in the mirror shows a face that screams "misery."

You take a deep breath, reach for the tap, and try to wash away the fatigue from your face.

That won't do.

We need to get rid of this so-called roommate.

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Author's note: All the content inside quotation marks is fake emoji.