Chapter 42 The Sky Won't Drop Pies
"There's a single room in the old wing of Maple Hall. Room 619. It's been empty for a while because..." Susan停顿了一下，"because it's not in great condition. We usually use it for storage. But if you're willing to clean it up yourself, and you don't mind living alone..."
Living alone? Rebecca could hardly believe her ears. Single rooms were usually a privilege reserved for seniors, and they were expensive.
"I don't mind at all," Rebecca blurted out, "I can clean it up, no problem."
Susan looked at her with a hint of sympathy in her eyes: "Alright then. But don't say I didn't warn you. That room has been used for storage for almost two years. It's going to need a lot of work."
Ten minutes later, Rebecca held her new Housing Contract, which read "Maple Hall 619 - Single Occupancy." Although she didn't know what awaited her, at least she could finally leave that suffocating place.
When Rebecca pushed open the door to Room 619, she finally understood what Susan meant by "don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oh my God..." Rebecca stood in the doorway, hardly able to believe what she was seeing.
The room layout was exactly the same as other dorm rooms: a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a small fridge. But every piece of furniture was covered in thick dust, spider webs hung in the corners, and the floor was piled with all kinds of junk—broken chairs, empty cardboard boxes, cleaning supplies, and even several old trash cans.
The air was filled with a musty smell mixed with dust that made you want to cough.
Rebecca stood in the doorway for a full minute, a thought flashing through her mind: maybe she should go back to Susan and tell her this room was completely unlivable.
But thinking of her roommates' sarcasm, thinking of those polite but firm rejections, Rebecca gritted her teeth and walked into the room.
"There's no free lunch," she told herself. "Since I chose independence, I have to pay the price."
First, she needed cleaning supplies. Rebecca drove to the nearest Target and spent nearly a hundred dollars on various cleaners, rags, trash bags, and some basic necessities. At checkout, the cashier looked at the items in her cart and joked, "Moving into a new place?"
"Something like that," Rebecca replied with a bitter smile.
Back at the dorm, Rebecca changed into her oldest clothes, tied her hair in a ponytail, and began the most difficult cleaning job of her life.
First was clearing out the junk. Those discarded furniture pieces and trash cans were too heavy, so Rebecca could only drag them bit by bit into the hallway, then use the dorm's hand cart to transport them downstairs to the trash room.
During the moving process, she noticed people in the hallway constantly peeking at her. Some whispered among themselves, some gave her sympathetic looks, and others simply took out their phones to take pictures.
"Look, the girl is cleaning the storage room," she heard someone say.
"I heard she couldn't find any roommates," another voice responded.
"That room has been empty for like, two years. I can't believe Housing actually let someone live there."
Rebecca pretended not to hear these comments and continued focusing on the task at hand.
After clearing out the junk, the real challenge began. Rebecca started from the ceiling, carefully wiping every inch of surface with a damp cloth. Spider webs, dust, mysterious stains... each required patience and careful attention.
Three hours later, Rebecca's arms were so sore she could barely lift them, and her knees hurt from kneeling on the floor for so long.
But looking at the gradually tidying room, Rebecca felt an unprecedented sense of accomplishment. This was a space she had created entirely through her own efforts, without anyone's help, without any compromises.
That night, Rebecca began moving her belongings. Using the dorm's hand cart, she made trip after trip carrying luggage, books, and clothes from her old room to 619.
Each time she passed through the hallway, she could feel the curious gazes of other students. Some nodded kindly, while others were clearly whispering. Rebecca didn't care anymore.
When the last trip was finished, it was already past ten at night. Rebecca stood in her newly arranged room, feeling her legs trembling. The bed was neatly made, the desk was clean, and clothes in the wardrobe were hung and organized by color. Although the furniture was still somewhat old, the entire room had been transformed.
More importantly, this was her own space. No roommates' sarcasm, no interpersonal relationships to tiptoe around, no need to accommodate others' living habits.
Just as she was about to shower and rest, her phone rang. It was a video call from Frederick.
Rebecca looked at herself in the mirror: hair messy, dust marks on her face, clothes all wrinkled. She hesitated for a moment but still answered the call.
"Hi," Frederick's face appeared on the screen, still handsome as always, but his expression looked somewhat serious. "What are you doing? Why did it take you so long to answer?"
Somehow detecting a hint of accusation in his tone, Rebecca pulled the phone away and only then noticed several messages he had sent:
6 PM, [Have you had dinner?]
8 PM, [Did you treat the wound on your hand?]
10 PM, [Rebecca??]
Rebecca: ...
Her knees were fine, just slightly sore.
As for the wound on her palm, she had long forgotten about it.
And at this moment, it had clearly turned white from being soaked in water too many times.
Belatedly realizing it did hurt a bit, but not daring to show it at all, Rebecca quickly said, "I treated it."
"Really?"
"Really!"
Rebecca nodded earnestly, "If I'm lying, I'm a puppy!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Rebecca: ...
On the other end, Frederick seemed to believe her. "At school today, did you run into any problems that were hard to solve?"
"No."
"...Okay, then get some rest early. Good night!"
"Good night!"
After hanging up, Frederick casually turned off the bedside lamp.
As darkness fell, Frederick discovered a very serious problem.