In my fourth year as Song Jingyuan’s kept woman, he tired of me and asked to break up.
I had meant to cry, make a scene, and threaten to kill myself to keep him, putting on the same devoted performance that had pleased him countless times before.
But the floating comments before my eyes said he meant it this time.
He had fallen for someone else, and this truly would be the last time we ever met.
I fell silent at once.
While tears slipped down my face, I hooked a bill from the floor with my little finger, rolled it into my palm, and tucked it deeper into my sleeve.