I let out a massive sigh of relief. “Thanks. I don’t have class this morning anyway.”

He shot me a raised eyebrow. “Thanks who?”

I pivoted on a dime. “Right, sorry. Thanks, hubby.”

“If you’ve got no class, you’re coming to mine,” he said casually. “Call another guy your husband again, and I’m docking your pay.”

“Got it.”

I dutifully trotted behind him. For thirty thousand dollars a month… forget sitting in a lecture; I’d seriously consider going bungee jumping without a rope if he asked nicely.

Song Yan was a year ahead of me, majoring in Computer Science right next door to my department. He led me through the back door of the lecture hall, strolled over to the very last row, and unzipped the breakfast bag to inspect the contents.

“Don’t like this one, you eat it,” he said, sorting through the items. “I like soup dumplings. Get more next time.”

I immediately whipped out a small notebook, bit off the pen cap, and began taking diligent notes. “Right away! Please keep going, hubby.”

Song Yan arched an eyebrow, leaning down to glance at my notebook:

Song Yan stared in silence for two full seconds before bursting out laughing. “Why are you like this? Trying to kill me?”

He laughed so hard he ended up coughing, needing a solid minute to catch his breath. I took the opportunity to quietly add another line at the bottom: When feeding, strictly observe food and respiratory safety protocols.

Just then, the professor walked into the room. The very first words out of his mouth were: “Is Song Yan actually in class today?”

“Present,” Song Yan called out, raising a lazy hand.

I blinked. Ah. So my sugar daddy’s name is Song Yan.

“Miracles do happen,” the professor remarked, glancing his way. “I was beginning to think you forgot the way to campus.”

With that, the lecture began. Song Yan lasted all of five minutes before propping his head on his hand and drifting off. Left with nothing better to do, I started taking detailed notes for him. Whether I actually understood the material didn’t matter—what mattered was maintaining top-tier customer service standards.

I spent nearly the entire hour scribbling away before Song Yan finally stirred awake. Resting his chin in his hand, he silently watched me finish the last lines.

As the bell rang to end class, he asked, his voice raspy with sleep, “Girlfriend, what’s your name again?”

I: “…”

Unbelievable. He remembered every single dollar, but completely blanked on his contract girlfriend’s name.

“It’s Yu Sisi.”

“Right.” He patted my head like he was stroking a cat. “Wait here a second, I’m gonna step out for a smoke.”

The moment Song Yan left, a hand with an aggressively over-designed manicure tapped heavily on my desk. “Hey.”

I looked up. Ah, the cosmetic-enhanced girl from yesterday. I offered a polite greeting: “Hi there. Are you in Song Yan’s department too?”

She ignored my question, her brows pulled into a deep scowl. “Are you really dating Song Yan?”

“Yep.”

Her scowl deepened. “You don’t even know what kind of person he is! Did you just agree to be his girlfriend for a little cash?”

I nodded in full honesty. “Pretty much.”

“Do you have no self-respect at all?” She was getting visibly agitated now. “Throwing away your dignity just for money?”

I was genuinely baffled. “Do you hear yourself? Are you saying I should turn down cold, hard cash just to hold onto some abstract sense of dignity?”

She choked on her words. “You… you’re completely hopeless!”

“Obviously,” I replied with absolute confidence. “I’m just a hard-working girl earning an honest living.”

After a beat of consideration, I added: “Just don’t go trying to steal my gig, okay? Poaching someone’s livelihood is as bad as desecrating their ancestral grave.”

“Who’s trying to steal your gig?” Song Yan’s voice suddenly drifted from the back door.

My expression flipped in a heartbeat.

“Nobody at all!”

Song Yan frowned, glaring cold daggers at the girl. “What do you want with my girlfriend?”

I immediately tugged at his sleeve, ducking my head in a picture-perfect display of fragile distress. “It’s okay, hubby. Don’t blame her. Even though she said I have no self-respect or dignity, I’m sure she didn’t mean it…”

Song Yan shot her a cold, dismissive glance. “Oh, so now you know how to be jealous?” He let out a harsh sneer. “Too late.”

With that, he pulled me into his chest, lightly resting his hand on my head to soothe me like a child. “There, there, Sisi,” his tone softened dramatically. “Ignore her. I’ll take you shopping for bags and clothes later to make it up to you.”

I almost looked up to ask: Real luxury stores, or are we talking online window shopping? Luckily, before I could open my mouth, Song Yan seemed to read my mind and gently pushed my head back down against his chest.

“I hate you!” The girl stomped her foot and stormed off, her high heels clacking furiously down the hallway.

Only then did Song Yan finally release me.

“Alright, drop the act,” he chuckled. “You’re pretty quick on your feet.”

I immediately sat back down beside him, puffing out my chest with pride. “For your benefit, hubby, no sacrifice is too great.”

Once the coast was clear, I leaned in and asked in a hushed, curious tone, “So… what exactly did she do to make you this mad?”

Song Yan tracked her retreating figure with a look of pure disgust. “What else? She cheated on me with some thirty-something land baron.”

My jaw dropped. “No way. You’re hot and rich—why on earth would she go for a middle-aged guy?”

“Her eyes must be broken,” Song Yan muttered, leaning closer with an irritated huff. “I’d never even been in a relationship before. She chased me for a full year, and I only gave it a shot because she was getting annoying. Not long after we started dating, she kept dropping hints about wanting a designer bag for her birthday. It was only three thousand bucks. I thought it was too cheap, so I didn’t buy it.”

I nodded along. Ah, the world of the ultra-wealthy—turning down a three-thousand-dollar bag because it wasn’t expensive enough.

“So I ordered a brand-new BMW for her instead,” Song Yan continued casually. “Who knew she’d pull a vanishing act on her birthday? The next night, I saw her stepping out of some old geezer’s ride. She straight up told me, ‘Things you won’t buy me? There are plenty of guys out there lined up to do it.’ Then she told me if I didn’t have money, I shouldn’t bother dating and stop wasting her time.”

“Ooh…” I dragged out the sound, the full picture finally clicking into place. Turns out I had just happened to stumble upon the jackpot of a bitter bounce-back.

I gave his shoulder a solemn, sympathetic pat. “That really is a shame.”

“A shame about what?”

“Your first love,” I let out a pained sigh. “What a complete waste.”

Then, I instantly snapped back into my employee-of-the-month persona. “But hey, it’s fine! You’ve got me now. First love might be a flop, but thirty grand a month is a guaranteed win. I promise to deliver a five-star, VIP-tier romance experience.”

Song Yan shot me a look of fond disdain. “You’d better deliver.” He raised an eyebrow teasingly. “Keep me entertained, and extending your contract for another year and a half won’t be a problem.”

I saw right through it. Typical corporate boss—always dangling a fake promotion in front of the staff.