Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When Qi Zhaoyuan and I first met, he was poor in a very dignified way.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have money; it was that his family had cut off his cards. He had a massive temper and lived like a fallen prince who just happened to be staying in the room next to mine.

At the time, I had just started working in liquor sales. I spent my days running between hotels and my nights back in my rented room, manually filing invoices.

He moved in at midnight, wearing a black hoodie and carrying a single suitcase. His face was so cold he looked like a debt collector.

The landlady was all smiles. “Xiao Peng, this is your new neighbor. His family is very well-off.”

I replied, “I can tell. People from well-off families love moving in the middle of the night.”

Qi Zhaoyuan shot me a glance. “You talk too much.”

I shot back, “I didn’t grow a mouth just for decoration.”

And that was how our feud began.

Later, I found out he’d had a falling out with his family and had been kicked out by his grandfather to “cool off.”

His father wanted him to enter the family company and follow the pre-established path, but he refused. He insisted on starting his own project.

In the end, the project tanked, and he was forced back into the fold.

I happened to be going through a breakup during that period. My mood was trash, and my favorite thing to do was squat by the stairwell after work, eating a bowl of instant noodles and enjoying the breeze.

He often came back late at night. Whenever he passed by, he would frown at the smell of my noodles.

I’d tease him. “Want a bite? It’s the spiritual sustenance of the corporate slave.”

He’d say, “I don’t eat junk food.”

The next day, he left a bag of stomach medicine and a container of hot porridge at my door.

The sticky note had only two words on it:

*Stop being dramatic.*

I nearly died laughing.

And just like that, two people who weren’t exactly sweet-talkers somehow got tangled up together.

He didn’t know how to say romantic things.

Instead, when I wore a short skirt to go out, he’d casually toss his jacket over my head.

When I drank until my stomach ached while entertaining clients, he’d show up with a dark expression to pick me up. He’d shove me into the car and scold me for working like my life didn’t matter.

And when I was fuming and cursing out my boss, he’d twist open a bottle of mineral water for me and say slowly, “If you’re unhappy, just quit. I can support you.”

I laughed at that.

“Young Master Qi, you have to pay your own rent these days, and you’re going to support me?”

He looked at me, his gaze terrifyingly deep.

“Then wait for me.”

“Wait for what?”

“Wait until I’ve made something of myself.”

That night, he stood in my kitchen with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, head down as he cooked me a hangover soup.

It was raining outside, and the kitchen was so small there was barely room to turn around.

I hugged him from behind, pressing my face against his back. I felt his breath hitch for a second.

“Qi Zhaoyuan.”

“Mm.”

“If you get rich in the future, will you be like those other wealthy men? Loving every woman you see?”

He turned off the stove, turned around, and lifted me onto the kitchen counter. His palms supported my waist as he gave a low chuckle.

“I don’t know about other people.”

“What about you?”

“Dealing with just you is enough trouble for me.”

His mouth was usually kept under lock and key.

But when he said things like that, the impact was devastating.

My face flushed under his gaze, but I still acted tough. “Who’s troubling whom?”

He leaned down, gently brushing the tip of his nose against mine.

“Peng Qingchuan.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop provoking me.”

But later, I was the one who let go first.

I twisted the knife the deepest right when he loved me the most.