Chapter 1

While I was in Germany enjoying the news that my graduation had been delayed, Zhou Jinyi was getting very cozy with a girl from the year below him.

I’d seen a photo. She was exactly the type he’d liked since secondary school: white dress, long, straight black hair, a quiet, bookish air.

When the photo arrived, my supervisor was tearing into me. All that remained was for him to call me a disgrace to academia.

My nerves, stretched taut by years of academic work, finally snapped.

I calmly booked a flight for that night. When I arrived, I hammered on Zhou Jinyi’s door hard enough to set off the alarm.

A man wearing a bath towel came out. Cool, pale skin, an eight-pack, a high, straight nose.

It was Tang Heqing, Zhou Jinyi’s friend since childhood.

A notorious playboy in our circle.

He swallowed. “Su Nan, calm down. He’s only keeping that girl around to amuse himself. There’s nothing between them! It’s just work!”

I grabbed him and pushed him onto the sofa, kicking the door shut behind me.

Tang Heqing flushed crimson. His long, dark lashes trembled, reminding me of the girl’s long black hair in that photograph.

Irritated, I covered his eyes.

He took the initiative, inexperienced but determined. “Don’t regret this.”

I slapped a hand against his mouth. “You talk too much.”

…

By the time the sky outside had begun to pale, I lit a cigarette, my face expressionless.

Through the curling smoke, Tang Heqing shifted his head against my thighs. His voice was hoarse. “I’ll persuade my mother.”

I put out the cigarette, pushed him away, and took my clothes into the bathroom. “There’s no need,” I said coldly.

His flushed face went white. The brightness in his eyes died, and his voice dropped. “What do you mean, no need?”

I closed the glass door. “Don’t tell me you expect me to take responsibility just because it was your first time.”

He grabbed his suit and stormed out, his eyes red with anger.

I tidied myself up methodically, ordered a tableful of takeout, and, after eating, booked a flight back to Germany that day. Then I threw myself back into the studies that were driving me out of my mind.

That brief, illusory surrender had let me indulge myself. But the emptiness beneath it would only be filled when the realities I loathed were properly dealt with.

Tang Heqing called me once.

As night deepened, I was bent over my research papers, struggling through them. I forced down a mouthful of awful, bland Western food and nearly cried.

Glasses clinked at his end of the line. His voice was low. “Su Nan, you have one more chance.”

I was unbearably irritated. “Chance for what?”

“To let me take responsibility for you.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need it.”

He gave a cold laugh through gritted teeth. “You’ve got some nerve, Su Nan.”

He hung up. I tossed my phone aside and went back to burning the midnight oil.

I’d seen my therapist three times that week.

His advice was to suspend my studies and rest as soon as possible. Only then would my condition improve.

I asked whether I could have my money back.

His expression changed dramatically. I left scowling.

What useless advice. Academia was the reason I was ill. If I gave it up and spent my days loafing around and traveling the world, what could possibly be wrong with me?

A princess complex?

Fuck. Why hadn’t the world exploded yet?

On the phone, Zhou Jinyi complained that a stupid junior of his had ruined a deal he’d spent half a month working on.

My advice was calm. “If she’s that useless, fire her. Plenty of excellent graduates are fighting for positions at listed companies. You’d better not be sneaking random freeloaders in through the back door. Hire fairly and let the incompetent eliminate themselves. That’s competition.”

Fortunately, he only soothed me in his usual gentle voice. He didn’t call me cold or heartless.

Otherwise, I might have lost my mind again.

Zhou Jinyi mentioned the girl more and more often on the phone.

At first he sounded irritated. Later, his voice would soften without his noticing.

“One hundred and ninety-nine,” I said listlessly.

“What?” he asked, puzzled.

“That’s the hundred and ninety-ninth time you’ve mentioned her.”

He paused, his voice dropping noticeably, bewilderment creeping in. “Is it?”

I rolled my eyes, mentally prepared a dish of deep-fried supervisor, and said, “Yes. This time you found her adorable working part-time handing out flyers in the sun.”

He stumbled over his words, plainly uncertain of himself. “Only a little adorable…”

I hung up with a scornful little smile. An employee of a listed company moonlighting as a flyer distributor was a bit unhinged.

Besides, people handed out flyers everywhere, every day. Why was she the only one he found cute?

He simply fancied her looks. Why lie to himself about it?