Chapter 1
Pei Yu and I got together for simple reasons: he was after my looks, and I was after his money.
When he pursued me, he kept asking what I wanted.
I told him honestly: I want money, lots of money.
Men without money, please don’t chase me.
Pei Yu was generous too—the young heir of the Jingcheng Group, with more money than he knew what to do with.
Right after we started dating, whatever I wanted would appear in front of me the next second.
Pei Yu got a sense of accomplishment from me spending his money; he practically begged me to drain his accounts.
He said only if I spent his money ruthlessly would he feel secure.
But lately, he’s changed, becoming stingy.
This month, I only bought a 500,000 yuan bag, and he gave me the cold shoulder.
I didn’t think much of it, assuming he was stressed from work. I glanced at him and went back to admiring my pigeon-egg diamond.
When I tried to use his card again, he suddenly flipped out.
“When are you going to fix this habit of spending like there’s no tomorrow? Is earning money that easy?”
“All you do is spend money—what else do you know? What if I run out of money one day?”
“Can’t you learn from other girls? Buy what you need, but don’t splurge on nonsense.”
“A 500,000 yuan bag? Do you know that’s enough for an average family to live on for a year?”
I stared at him, baffled.
That’s weird—why should I care about others?
I’m so pretty, with such a great personality; I was born to spend money.
Because I’m so easygoing, I always reflect promptly.
Maybe I really have been spending too much; Pei Yu hasn’t fully taken over the company yet, and my habits might be stressing him out.
I consoled myself and turned to apologize to him, promising to cut back.
But before I could speak, he stood up abruptly, glaring at me coldly: “Let’s break up.”
I was stunned: “Break up? Because I spend your money, you want to end it?”
I almost laughed: “Are you crazy? Weren’t you the one begging me to spend your money?”
Pei Yu’s face stiffened, but he pressed on: “It’s not that you can’t spend money; I just don’t like your money-grubbing attitude.”
He grabbed his jacket, not giving me a chance to argue: “So, if you don’t change this bad habit, we’re done.”
He paused, adding: “Of course, if you can turn over a new leaf, we can still get back together.”
He emphasized the part about reconciling, like he was afraid I wouldn’t hear it.
I watched his back as he left, so angry my face nearly twisted.
If we’re breaking up, fine—but why slap me with the gold-digger label?
What’s wrong with being a gold digger? If not money, should I worship you?
Money and I are best friends; is loving it a crime?