Chapter 2: Wrong Guy

In my dream, I was living in a ultra-luxury penthouse, sharing a hallway with a famous billionaire. He was right on the verge of leaning in to whisper some juicy, top-secret celebrity gossip to me when…

Riiiiing!

The screeching ringtone yanked me straight out of high society and slammed me back into my cramped dorm room. I kept my eyes glued shut, answering with a groggy grumble:

“Hello?”

“Were you sleeping?”

I cracked one eye open to check the time. 3:50 AM. An ideal hour for entering a monastery, but a terrible one for phone calls with your boyfriend. I answered purely on instinct:

“Obviously. What else would I be doing?”

“Are you taking an attitude with me?”

Those seven words acted like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. My eyes snapped open. Holy crap. That’s my sugar benefactor! I instantly pivoted, cranking my voice into the sweetest, most syrupy tone I could muster:

“Babe! I’d never take an attitude with you!”

Silence stretched over the line for a few agonizing seconds. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and raspy, heavy with alcohol. “Why didn’t you text me goodnight before passing out?”

Look, I’ve been single my whole life. My bedtime routine consists of plugging in my charger, not checking in with a boss. But obviously, I wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud.

“I was going to…” I purred softly, “but I fell asleep before I could hit send.”

“You remember you’re my girlfriend, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then keep it in mind.” His tone was slow, deliberate. “Whatever other guys get, I get. Whatever other guys don’t get, I get even more. Otherwise… don’t expect me to renew your contract.”

I froze. Wait, what? A contract renewal? Is this a relationship or a quarterly lease?

“Got it. I’ll be more mindful,” I promised, taking a beat before deciding to clear up one vital detail. “Just to be clear though… I’m strictly an entertainment-only package. No physical extras.”

A low, quiet chuckle vibrated through the speaker. “Relax. I abide by the law.”

I let out a massive sigh of relief. High pay, incredible benefits, and legally sound. Best job ever.

“You have an early class tomorrow, right?” he continued. “When you come downstairs, I want to see you holding breakfast for me. I’ll text you my dorm building and phone number later.”

“Understood, babe.”

“Mm. Go to sleep.”

“Going back to sleep now. Night-night, babe.”

“…Yeah.”

—

The next morning, I woke up early, scrubbed myself presentable, put on a light layer of makeup, and stood outside the male dorm building clutching a hot breakfast bag.

Six minutes into watching the stream of guys flowing out the front doors, a terrifying realization struck me: I have mild prosopagnosia. Face blindness.

Plus, last night I had been so intoxicated by the sight of his black card, bank balance, and luxury car that I hadn’t actually paid attention to his face.

My memory offered up only two tiny details: He wore black. He had a piercing in his left ear. That was literally it.

Holding the breakfast bag tight, I scrutinized every single guy walking past. Five minutes later, a guy dressed in head-to-toe black stepped out of the lobby. Left ear pierced.

I immediately plastered on a prime $30,000-a-month customer service smile and rushed over:

“Good morning, hubby!”

The surrounding air froze. The guy stopped dead in his tracks. A few of his buddies instantly let out wolf whistles and rowdy jeers:

“Damn, Jiang Yifan! Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

“Isn’t she a freshman from our department?”

“Bro even bagged the ice queen?”

Jiang Yifan? I went totally rigid. He’s an upperclassman from my own department?!

Right at that horrific moment, a smooth, agonizingly familiar voice drifted from behind me: “Sorry, guys. My girlfriend isn’t fully awake yet. Got the wrong guy.”

A long arm draped casually over my shoulders, pulling me back against a broad chest. He leaned down, dark eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of amusement and mischief. “Your hubby’s over here, babe.”

…I was doomed. My short-lived career was going down in flames after less than twenty-four hours on the job.

After we walked a safe distance away, he finally let go of my shoulders. Slowly pulling out a cigarette, he leaned down to strike a light, flicking his gaze up at me through the flame. “Do I really look that much like him?”

Standing against the morning sun, his tall, imposing frame completely dwarfed me. He had sharp, upturned eyes, a high nose bridge, and a sculpted jawline. The faint cloud of white smoke drifting around him made him look dangerously, wildly attractive.

Jiang Yifan, on the other hand, might have had a similar build, but his features were way softer—downturned eyes, fuller lips, radiating a gentle, approachable vibe.

I shook my head violently, full of pure, unadulterated sincerity. “Not even a little bit.”

“If we don’t look alike, how’d you still get it wrong?” He let out a dry laugh. “I’ve been standing near you for half an hour. And you sprinted straight up to another guy and called him hubby?”

“Half an hour?” I blinked, completely bewildered. “I didn’t see you come downstairs?”

“I didn’t sleep in the dorms last night.” He exhaled a lazy plume of smoke. “I drove back early specifically to see you. Who knew I’d stand here for thirty minutes only to watch my own girlfriend skip over to call another guy her husband?”

He let out a dramatic, regretful sigh. “Looks like my money wasn’t well spent after all.”

I immediately shifted into full damage-control mode. “It was spent perfectly! Tonight, I’m carving your face onto a cigarette and inhaling it straight into my lungs. I swear I’ll never mistake you again!”

A sudden laugh escaped his lips.

“And here I heard you were supposed to be some aloof, ice-cold campus beauty,” he said, looking at me with deep amusement. “Why do you sound like a total chaotic dork in front of me?”

Without skipping a single beat, I chimed in: “Whatever flavor you like, babe — I can play the part.”