Chapter 1
In theory, a blunder this big should never have happened in my career as a professional simp.
After all, when I first met Qi Pei on the basketball court, I had sauntered over with studied nonchalance, held out my phone, and said, “Hey, buddy. WeChat?”
In reality, my hands had trembled as I saved his contact: Qi Pei, basketball court, maxed-out Daniel Wu look-alike.
Adding Qi Pei marked the pinnacle of my simping career.
So I turned around and blocked all four guys I had still been talking to.
Before blocking them, I glanced through our messages. They went roughly like this.
—Two days ago—
Me: “Good morning! Have you had breakfast?”
Me: “Good afternoon! Have you had lunch?”
Me: “Good evening! Have you had dinner?”
—One day ago—
Me: “Welcome the first ray of morning sun. May your day overflow with good luck!” [Blooming Lotus.jpg]
Me: “I went out for noodles today, but when I looked at the menu, they didn’t have the kind I wanted. The owner got mad and said he had every kind of noodle in the world. I merely shook my head and said, ‘No. The only place I want to be is in my dream guy’s heart.’”
Me: “You must be exhausted today. How could you not be, after running through my heart all day? Get some rest, baby.” [Rose] [Rose] [Heart]
Most of those exchanges consisted entirely of me flooding the screen by myself.
Only one kind soul ever replied.
When I asked whether he had eaten dinner, he answered, “No.”
So I said, “Then hurry up and eat.”
He replied, “My stomach hurts. I can’t.”
I said, “Don’t hurt.”
He said, “It feels awful this late at night. Now I can’t even sleep.”
I said, “Don’t be unable to sleep.”
He said, “Mm-hmm. Okay.”
I said, “Good boy. Don’t torment yourself like this again. Your punishment is to send me a fifty-yuan red packet, or I’ll worry about you.”
Him: “?”
A red exclamation mark brought our brief romance to an end.
And when that romance ended, I was heartbroken.
It wasn’t as though I needed the fifty yuan. That was simply what the online tutorial had told me to say.
In fact, my family was loaded.
We had every bit of the extravagance you saw in TV dramas about wealthy dynasties—and every bit of the vicious family infighting too.
Long story short, thanks to the older generation’s creative maneuvering, if I failed to choose my own partner before I turned twenty-four, I would be shipped off into an arranged marriage.
That was the bright idea of all the uncles in the family who couldn’t stand me. If the old man hadn’t fought tooth and nail on my behalf, I had no doubt they would have married me off at once as a widower’s second wife, preferably one in his sixties or seventies.
Thus, I had no choice but to rise up, pursue love with all my might, and even debase myself into a simp.
I had only one requirement for the object of my devotion: he had to be handsome.
So there I was, devastated after a cute guy blocked me, sitting beside the basketball court and swirling a wineglass filled with RIO sparkling wine.
Then I saw Qi Pei sink a casual three-pointer. As he turned, his T-shirt rode up and flashed the edge of his abs.
My wounded heart stirred once more.