Childhood Friends

I was a child bride, bought by the Song Family for five taels of silver.

But Song Jitong didn’t like me; he preferred the daughter of the family living at the east end of the village.

I originally liked someone as handsome as Song Jitong, but eventually, I simply gave up on those feelings. I planned to repay my debt of gratitude to the Song Family, see Song Jitong off to the capital to become the Top Scholar, and then leave.

However, Song Jitong later appeared with an imperial marriage decree in one hand and my redemption money in the other. In the middle of the night, he cornered me against a wall just as I was trying to sneak away with my bags packed. Gritting his teeth, he hissed, “Jiang Miao’er, don’t you dare try to run away.”

Before I could even answer, this elegant Top Scholar-as refined as iris and orchid-was the first to turn red-eyed, looking just as aggrieved as he did when we were children.

“Elder Sister, please don’t abandon me…”

The first time I went to a nightclub after starting university, I ran into the neighbor who had disappeared a year ago.

He had his arms around two scantily-clad beauties, looking like a total delinquent.

When he saw me, his gaze flickered across my chest before he let out a soft, dismissive “tsk.” Later, he pinned me against a corner. His finger pressed against my lips as he leaned down, demanding I call his name. It was only then that it dawned on me. He wasn’t my Zhou Yanzhi.

The year I graduated from high school, I rejected Gu Cong’s confession in front of the entire school.

I told him I already had a boyfriend.

He nodded politely and turned to leave.

At four o’clock the next morning, he boarded a plane to study abroad.

As for me, I continued my routine, heading out before dawn to snag a spot for my breakfast stall.

Eight years later.

Clutching my last seven thousand yuan, I boarded a train to the Capital with my gravely ill daughter in my arms.

After reviewing her medical records, the doctor shook his head.

“There’s probably only one doctor in the entire Capital who can perform this surgery.

“He’s a specialist who just returned from abroad. He once performed a successful operation on a patient with a condition very similar to your daughter’s.”

As he spoke, he called out to the man behind me with pleasant surprise.

“Let me introduce you. This is the man I was talking about-Gu Cong, Dr. Gu.”

I fell in love with a poor boy, but later broke up with him because he was poor.

Years later, he became successful and famous, while I, serving food, accidentally stained his girlfriend’s bag.

The young girlfriend sneered, “Do you recognize this bag? Can you afford to compensate for it?”

I smiled and handed her my own bag:

“A limited edition Birkin, three times the price of yours. Is it alright if I compensate you with this?”

In the third year of my marriage to my childhood sweetheart,

I happened to stumble across an old post he’d written.

In it, he talked about being forced to part from the person he truly loved, and how he had “no choice” but to marry the girl-next-door childhood friend.

And I just so happened to be that childhood friend in his story.

In his tragic little romance, I was the obstacle standing between the male and female leads.

My husband is wonderful to me.

He is incredibly considerate and gentle in bed, too.

After several failed attempts to actually make him angry, I finally resorted to posting a plea for help online: [How can I get my husband to be a bit more aggressive?]

[Sweet talk is all well and good, but I really want to try dirty talk.]

[Angry sex? Never tried that either.]

There were plenty of helpful netizens, but unfortunately, their suggestions were underwhelming.

That was until the day I came home drunk after a class reunion.

The living room was shrouded in darkness.

In the fragmented Moonlight, my husband did something rare-he called me by my full name. “Lin Sui, come here and kneel.”

After announcing his marriage at a concert, the top-tier singer suddenly broke down in tears.

It was because he had just received news of my death.

Zhou Yan. We met at six and said our goodbyes at twenty-four.

I never had the courage to tell you that I truly, deeply loved you.

Ten years after graduation, at a class reunion in Beijing, I saw him again.

Among a group of male classmates nearing thirty and starting to put on a bit of weight, he still looked as young and handsome as ever.

We sat far apart at the table and didn’t exchange a single word.

When the reunion ended, a light rain began to fall, and I hurried to leave.

To my surprise, he stopped my car.

“Xiao Shan.” His eyes were just as clear and transparent as they had always been.

Perhaps it was because of the rain, but there seemed to be a faint hint of urgency in his voice.

“Could you… give me a lift?”

Everyone says Qi Zheng loves me.

When we were young, girls came and went around him, but as long as I turned around, he was always there behind me.

Later, he reformed for me and kept himself chaste for me. The once unruly and rebellious playboy began to learn how to cook and take care of the household.

On my twenty-sixth birthday, he knelt on one knee before me and produced that ring symbolizing true love.

After a long silence, I said only one thing-

“Qi Zheng, Wen Yi is dead.”

Qi Zheng’s face went pale in an instant. I looked at him calmly. He said, “I never thought you’d still remember her.”

To win Jiang Bai over, I, a spoiled little princess with a monthly allowance of hundreds of thousands, spent three whole years pretending to be dirt poor.

All just so I could mooch meals and drinks off him.

But now his “white moonlight” has suddenly returned, and she even had the nerve to mock me for being a broke loser.

Fine! Great! You want to see who’s richer?

I’m done pretending!