CHAPTER 16

Maintaining a background that doesn’t belong to you isn’t an easy task.

To appear generous, Ha Yue rarely split the bills when she went out with her roommates. Most of the time, she would actively treat them.

But the living allowance her mother, Zhao Chunni, gave her could only ensure she wouldn’t starve in Ji City, so every winter and summer holiday, Ha Yue would make up various excuses to stay in Ji City and work part-time.

At first, she worked as an hourly employee with free meals and accommodation, preparing food at a low-end fast-food restaurant, earning five yuan an hour, working more than twelve hours a day.

She could earn over two thousand yuan during one holiday, and two holidays would give her five thousand, enough to cover the social expenses she incurred in school. It was common for her to treat others to meals and then eat steamed buns by herself. Even on days without gatherings, she usually hid in the corner of the cafeteria, eating the cheapest stir-fried bean sprouts and cold potato slices.

When she started her third year of university and began dating Xue Jing, her expenses and income started to seriously mismatch.

In the past, in front of her roommates, she could pretend that she didn’t care about her appearance, saying that the reason she wore the same clothes all the time and used the cheapest toiletries was because her family had taught her that a girl should focus more on her inner qualities.

During the semester, she dedicated herself to her studies and indeed achieved good grades through hard work.

But in her first love, especially with Xue Jing, who was a true rich second-generation, her fragile self-esteem soared like a function of y=xˣ.

In addition to focusing on inner qualities, she suddenly became very concerned about whether her outer appearance was equally beautiful. She worked hard to dress up, frequently bought clothes, purchased cosmetics, learned how to look more attractive, and simultaneously guarded against any material pity Xue Jing might give her because of love.

Love should be genuine, Ha Yue thought. Otherwise, she could have easily used Xue Jing’s wealthy family to scam free food and drinks, but in her first experience with love, Ha Yue didn’t realize that loving someone could also spark a tsunami of comparison.

She observed how people around her viewed Xue Jing and secretly gritted her teeth, wanting to match him in every aspect.

She didn’t want everyone to look at them together and give her that subtle, almost pitying look as if she was lucky to be with him.

These days, many older women online try to sell relaxation to younger women facing peer pressure, but college life back then was in another dimension. Everyone was competing, everyone was running, and no one taught Ha Yue how to relax in love.

She was like a cat chasing its own tail—anxious, insecure, trying to fake it. She was stuck in a never-ending cycle of pretending: lacking love, pretending to have love; lacking money, pretending to have money; desperate enough to gnaw on her fingers for hunger.

When Ha Yue dined with Xue Jing, they strictly followed the “AA system” (splitting the bill), which was her own request because it made her feel that she was different from others. When Xue Jing gave her gifts, she always returned the favor with something of equal value, to prove that she wasn’t inferior to him.

Most girls in love look forward to various holidays, flowers, cakes, and gifts, as they represent the threshold of being loved.

But during those two years, Ha Yue was terrified of the rituals created by romance. Every time Valentine’s Day, her birthday, or their anniversary approached, she would lose sleep, fearing that Xue Jing might surprise her with luxury items or plans for an unbudgeted trip.

She simply couldn’t afford the expenses of traveling together, let alone expensive gifts worth thousands.

During the holidays, her part-time job wages were a drop in the bucket. She started working as a live-in nanny for a wealthy family, helping the children with homework, taking them to their extracurricular classes, and spending her nights in a small maid’s room in a villa while video calling Xue Jing.

She avoided looking at the family photos hanging on the wall, secretly took pictures of the villa’s interior, and told Xue Jing that it was another property her parents had in another city.

She could only see her parents during the holidays, and the time with her family was precious, so she had to be apart from Xue Jing in Ji City.

Later, they kissed, held hands, and slept together.

While there were happy moments in their relationship, Xue Jing was handsome, well-mannered, and generous. He respected her in every way, prioritizing her feelings both emotionally and physically.

He was the perfect boyfriend, leading by example, even speaking beautiful words of love.

Every time Xue Jing’s lingering kiss landed on her forehead, she felt like a sinner who had been redeemed. The unease in her heart was significantly eased.

More importantly, Xue Jing wasn’t the type of playboy who toyed with people. He was genuinely planning a future with her, fully content.

In 2017, Elizabeth Holmes of Silicon Valley, who had not yet been accused by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission of “massive fraud,” was still heralded as a shining young entrepreneur. American business rules were sweeping the globe, and many ambitious students in Ji University’s foreign language school regarded “Fake it till you make it” as their life philosophy.

Ha Yue also struggled to “fake” her image in Xue Jing’s eyes.

After pretending for so long, there came a moment when she even forgot the lies she had woven.

She began to believe that Xue Jing was her Prince Charming. He would fight through all obstacles, break all barriers, and finally make their relationship a success.

The ugly duckling might be able to fly up to the tree branch, and Cinderella could wear the glass slipper. She just needed to work a little harder.

Even during the winter break of her senior year, when Xue Jing casually asked if she had plans to study abroad after graduation, she impulsively called her mother, making that phone call that had long been criticized.

Ha Yue wanted to know how much Zhao Chunni could lend her so that she could go abroad with Xue Jing for further studies.

Ha Yue thought she didn’t need much—just enough to cover the passport and flight ticket. In time, she could pay her mother back many times over.

She believed she could do it. She trusted her ability to endure hardship, and besides, her English was very good. Even if Xue Jing didn’t help her, she could survive abroad on her own.

She believed her facade was a kind of game, much like those entrepreneurs, creating a better future for herself.

But before she could finish speaking, she was met with a torrent of insults and scolding from her mother.

The warmth of love began to gradually cool from that moment, with growing attachment mixed with cheap shame, like a clash of ice and fire, dark currents swirling underneath.

In the short term, Ha Yue couldn’t go abroad or pursue a graduate degree. The tuition fees for the four years she spent at Ji University were already the most extravagant support her mother, Zhao Chun Ni, could provide.

Ha Yue understood that the family support she could enjoy had an expiration date; she had already been raised by her mother for twenty-two years and had no right to continue asking for more.

If Xue Jing truly wanted a future with her, he would have to humble himself and accommodate her difficult situation, allowing her to become self-sufficient first and then wait for her to slowly save up some money to invest in herself.

But why would he do that?

Why would someone born with a golden spoon give up all the privileges society grants him to live like a beggar who needs to eat with his hands?

Why would anyone choose to wait in a long line when there is a fast track right in front of them?

Love has a price—it can be an exchange of resources or a complementing of values, but it would never be a charity project.

Especially when Ha Yue’s entry ticket into the relationship with him was stolen.

The ultimate conclusion in failed relationships is usually the phrase: “You’ve changed.”

But what if Xue Jing had been in love with a fake Ha Yue from the very beginning?

Ha Yue couldn’t bear to imagine the look of contempt on the face of the person she loved, as though she were a bug.

And so, from the second half of their senior year, their once smooth relationship with Xue Jing began to face frequent conflicts.

Ha Yue found every excuse to ruin whatever was left of their feelings. She mocked his writer’s dream, teased his fragile nerves, and even attacked his habit of enjoying the luxury of his parents’ money. She always found reasons to have big arguments over small things, her attitude aggressive as if she were a battle-hungry rooster, but then quickly defeated, regretting it and crying, trembling as she clung to him for kisses.

Although Xue Jing was confused and didn’t understand, thinking he had done something wrong, Ha Yue knew exactly where the problem lay. The issue was that her original intentions were too base and greedy. She knew she would lose him, but she also feared the day that loss would truly come.

Even in such a harsh environment, their relationship persisted, like a tenacious plant rooting in the cracks of brick, struggling to survive.

In the months before their breakup, every time they argued, Xue Jing would silently endure until she broke down first. Then, they would quickly patch up their wounded hearts with physical affection.

They argued, then reconciled, indulging in this harmful cycle like frequent addiction treatment forming a pattern.

Until Xue Jing gave up his plan to study abroad and rented a small apartment near her internship company.

He planned to take a gap year for himself to fully immerse in his beloved literary creations.

Suddenly, all the constraints for achieving happiness were cut off, and the hourglass of time stopped flowing. Ha Yue no longer feared the future.

Their time living together was short, but it quickly brought their relationship to an unprecedented high.

Already possessing the ability to cope with workplace stress, and with her hardworking and sweet-talking nature, Ha Yue was already earning a stable monthly income at her job, slightly higher than that of other fresh graduates.

While her classmates were busy contacting advisors, retaking exams, applying to government jobs, and sending out resumes in search of decent companies, the two of them hid outside the campus, living a simple and comfortable life like an old married couple.

Every morning, Ha Yue would wear high heels and apply makeup in front of the mirror while Xue Jing had already placed the packed breakfast and coffee by the door.

After a day’s work, Ha Yue would rub her sore neck as she walked down from the office building, and Xue Jing would already be waiting for her, sitting on a bench facing away from the sunset, waving at her.

They spent their days doing their own things—Ha Yue running errands for her seniors at work, and Xue Jing dreaming on an empty document.

Ten hours later, they emerged from the depths like they were resurfacing from the sea, taking deep breaths of air and returning to a reality that belonged to only the two of them: evening trips to the supermarket, eating at cheap restaurants, walking down the main street, and not feeling lonely even if they couldn’t sleep at night, like silver fish diving into each other’s pajamas to leave damp kisses.

Their shared apartment was on the cheapest top floor, and besides being hot in the summer, it had an oddly shaped skylight directly above their double bed.

The strong sunlight was a nightmare for silk bedding, but fortunately, they could only afford yellowed cotton-linen items.

As for the potentially cancerous UV rays? They treated it like sunbathing on their skin.

Tourists spent large sums of money, flocking to artificial beaches to experience nature, while they just needed to open the window to get fresh, unpolluted breezes.

More than once, Xue Jing had held her hand in the quiet of the night, reaching up to touch the bright moon outside the window.

He said, “How about we get married?”

Immediately, the tips of his ears turned pink with shyness, as if he feared she would reject him. Then, he pressed her hand to his chin, kissed her firmly, closed his eyes again, and found a way to save face in the darkness: “I was just thinking, if marriage is like this, it actually sounds pretty good.”

“What do you think?”

A loving marriage doesn’t need a grand expensive ceremony, nor does it need the tedious and hurtful negotiations between families.

All the rules of love and marriage are invalid, it only takes her to say “I do.”

Yes, Ha Yue would definitely say yes. If time could stop at that moment and never grow old, she would silently agree.

But she lay in the bright moonlight, pressing her ear softly to Xue Jing’s chest. The sound of his heartbeat, loud like thunder, made her eyes ache. So, she heard her own voice, trying to force a smile.

“You think too highly of yourself. You’re skipping the whole proposal step? You should at least use your royalties to buy a diamond ring and get down on one knee.”

“Oh, then I’m doomed,” she laughed, and Xue Jing laughed too. He thought this was just another simple joke, turned over and pressed her under him, their fingers intertwined, his nose tickling her neck. “What if I write really poorly and not only can’t I sell a single copy but I have to self-publish? Forget about a diamond ring, we might be using pull tabs in the future.”

“Let me measure your finger to see if it fits the standard ring size. Do you prefer Coke or Sprite?”

While dodging, her ring finger was accidentally put into her mouth. In her dizziness, Hayue comforted herself: They were still young, perhaps there were no rules in the world that could define first love. Maybe, wait another year or two, and everything could fall into place.

But what was stolen had to be returned. Hayue forgot, ugly ducklings were originally descendants of swans, and Cinderella had the blood of a legitimate daughter. Even fairy tales didn’t lie.

Her first love ultimately ended on the day she returned to school to collect her diploma, in the manner of a gecko severing its tail.