Chi Heng pretended to be poor and became my kept boyfriend.
Each month, I scraped together five hundred yuan from my living expenses to give him, and this went on for a year and a half.
As graduation approached, I finally found out:
He wasn’t a poor student on loans, but a young master who spent money like water.
He’d even been using someone else’s name the whole time.
The young master condescended to invite me to go abroad with him.
His friends all said I was lucky-with just a kind little white flower persona, I could climb up the social ladder.
Under his gaze, brimming with confidence that he’d get what he wanted,
I shook my head and said gently, “Better not.”
“I’m here to break up with you.”