Chapter 1

Chapter 1

At exactly 5:30 p.m., I shut down my computer and got off work.

Behind me came the puzzled voice of a new coworker.

“Didn’t they just notify everyone about a meeting? She’s leaving just like that?”

“She’s different,” an old coworker said meaningfully.

“Different how?”

“If she gets home late, her husband will hit her.”

The new coworker sucked in a sharp breath.

“Then why doesn’t she get divorced?”

“Shh-”

The old coworker lowered her voice. “Her? She’s got a hopeless love brain!”

A wave of helpless, sympathetic sighs rippled through the office.

I strode toward the door, unable to keep the corners of my mouth from rising.

Overtime?

Not a chance.

I don’t have a love brain.

But I pretend I do.

And I enjoy every single convenience it brings me with a perfectly clear conscience.

At the company, my persona is that of a pitiful woman who must go home on time every day to cook dinner. If I’m even a little late, my “heavy-drinking, bad-tempered” husband will beat me.

Whenever people talk about me, they shake their heads and sigh, their voices full of pity for a woman they think is too pathetic to fight for herself.

And thanks to this persona, I’m very well-liked at work.

After all, I brought gossip and conversation fodder into a dull workplace, giving everyone’s fragmented sympathy and kindness somewhere to go. In a sense, I provide them with tremendous stress relief and emotional value.

On top of that, unnecessary overtime, business trips, and client dinners automatically skip over me. The cafeteria auntie always gives me half again as much braised pork as everyone else. Even my leaders speak to me in gentle tones, afraid of triggering my “psychological trauma”…

And what do I have to pay?

A few lowered gazes as if I want to speak but can’t, a few reddened eyes full of unspeakable grievance, and a few tears I can summon on command.

The return on investment crushes every wealth management product on the market!

Of course.

Building a persona like this does require a certain amount of psychological fortitude.

Once, when Secretary Guan from the executive office complained to me about her boyfriend, I nearly blurted out, “Use his guilt to control him.” At the last second, I changed it to, “Maybe there’s something you haven’t done well enough? You should be more understanding of him.”

Secretary Guan glared at me like she wanted to shake some sense into me.

I lowered my head in shame and mentally slapped myself.

That was close!

Rule One of pretending to have a love brain: keep your acting steady and your persona restrained.

If you rein it in, you’re a harmless little bunny.

If you don’t, you’re a scheming bitch.