Chapter 3

Before long, a crowd surrounded him again.

I took the opportunity to quietly slip away.

Standing in the bathroom, staring at the faint double lines on the pregnancy test, I let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Oh, Little Yan… you used to spend all your energy planning your grand escape, and now you’re sitting here playing the tragic martyr. How fucking pathetic.”

Self-mockery aside, tears still spilled over as I dropped the test into the toilet.

Maybe… this little life had just arrived at the absolute worst time.

I washed my face, took a deep breath, and sent Zhou Yuandong a text:

My period just started, and I’m feeling a bit under the weather, so I’m heading home early. Don’t drink too much. I’ll be waiting for you.

Text sent, I borrowed a pen and a slip of paper from one of the waiters.

The image of him gently taking the napkins from that girl’s hands refused to leave my mind.

It pierced straight into my heart. A sharp, stinging ache.

Liar.

Bastard.

Two-timing, cheating piece of trash.

He wasn’t a germaphobe at all. He was just a massive hypocrite.

Cold on the outside, a shameless flirt on the inside, ready to melt for literally anyone.

He wouldn’t even spare a chubby-cheeked girl.

Gritting my teeth, I bit down hard on the pen cap and wrote:

“Zhou Yuandong, they say a man past twenty-five turns into a sixty-year-old geezer. Goodbye, old man. I’m done dealing with your shit.”

I folded the note, tucked it inside the box, and unclasped the diamond bracelet from my wrist, handing it to the waiter.

“When Mr. Zhou comes back, give this to him. Consider the bracelet your tip.”

The waiter’s hands trembled violently. “Is… is there anything you want me to tell him?”

I lifted my head, chin held high, proud as a swan.

“Wish him a happy sixtieth birthday.”

—

Zhou Yuandong, having just “celebrated his sixtieth birthday”, finally managed to shake off his leech-like friends.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time Secretary Chen helped him up.

His gaze unconsciously drifted to the empty seat beside him.

Little Yan’s text flashed across his mind.

Her period… wasn’t it supposed to be a week late?

She probably ate ice cream again.

That girl never failed to make him worry.

“Has Little Yan reached home yet?”

“The driver confirmed she was dropped off safely, sir.”

Zhou Yuandong nodded. “Let’s go.”

Just as they reached the doors, a waiter rushed over frantically.

“Mr. Zhou! A lady asked me to pass this to you.”

Zhou Yuandong’s eyes instantly locked onto the pastel pink box.

Little Yan’s favorite color.

Before Secretary Chen could bark a warning, Zhou Yuandong raised a hand. “Give it to me.”

He opened the box to find nothing inside but a scrap of paper.

The handwriting was unmistakably hers, scribbled so forcefully the pen had nearly torn through the paper:

“Zhou Yuandong, a man past twenty-five is a sixty-year-old geezer. Goodbye, old man. I’m officially resigning from taking care of you.”

Zhou Yuandong’s face darkened in an instant.

The alcohol in his system evaporated entirely, replaced by a deadly, frost-bitten chill.

He stashed the note, pulled out his phone, and dialed her number.

An automated voice informed him her phone was switched off.

He called the housekeeper on the spot.

“Miss Little Yan left an hour ago, sir. She mentioned her best friend was hospitalized and went to take care of her. The driver had already…”

Without waiting to hear the rest, Zhou Yuandong ended the call.

Striding down to the parking garage, he got into the car and sped straight to the hospital.

Skipping the elevator, he took four flights of stairs two at a time.

Standing before the door of the private room, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before shoving it wide open…

Empty.

There wasn’t a single trace of Little Yan.

—

Night had fallen deep, but Zhou Yuandong’s expression was darker than the midnight sky.

Standing behind him, Secretary Chen barely dared to breathe, as if even exhaling was a punishable offense.

The heavier his boss’s silence grew, the clearer it became: he was absolutely livid.

Besides, whenever it involved Little Yan, that resident troublemaker, he was never known to pull his punches.

“I didn’t come here to collect a debt,” he had signaled as the back door swung open. “Want to come with me? If you do, I’ll clear every last bit of your trouble.”

Hearing an offer like that, anyone with a brain knew what to choose.

If you’re going to sell your soul, you might as well sell it to someone powerful, filthy rich, and drop-dead gorgeous—you get your money’s worth.

When I first arrived at his estate, I stepped out of the shower wearing absolutely nothing.

I was already stripped bare anyway, so why bother playing coy? It was too exhausting.

My face, however, was swollen and my eyes were ringed with dark circles, completely killing any interest Zhou Yuandong might have had.

He applied medicine to the cuts on my arms, meticulous yet distant. Not a single touch carried a hint of intimacy.

For a whole month living in that mansion, he was buried in work, coming home in the dead of night.

We shared the same bed, yet lived like total strangers; he didn’t lay a single finger on me.

I honestly started to think he was broken down there, or was he… actually gay? My best friend even swore up and down: “He’s definitely gay, babe! He’s just using you as a beard!”

Then came an evening when he arrived home early. I was sitting on the garden swing, swaying back and forth while talking trash on the phone:

“I’m telling you, I suspect Zhou Yuandong has functional issues. The man is gorgeous, but he literally has zero reaction.”

The moment the words left my mouth, his voice rumbled from behind me: “I had no idea I was into men.”

I nearly tumbled off the swing, but his arms caught me just in time.

The garden was dead silent. Dressed in a sharp black suit with his tie neatly pinned, he held me tight, like a man holding onto a million-dollar jackpot.

The edge of his luxury watch pressed against my thigh, a dull sting that felt strangely thrilling.

He called out my name, then suddenly leaned down and captured my lips.

The kiss dragged all the way from the garden to the master bedroom, leaving my head spinning and my heart pounding like a war drum.

He pinned me to the king-sized bed, kneeling over me, brushing my hair aside as he unbuttoned his shirt with deliberate slowness.

When his bronzed chest and sculpted abs were laid bare, my face flushed red as a ripe tomato.

I buried my face in the pillow, pretending to be embarrassed, but kept stealing shameless peeks.

He unbuckled his belt without a rush. I stammered, “Zhou Yuandong… you haven’t… haven’t showered yet… You can’t…”

He kissed me deeply. “I know. I’ll carry you.”

That bath ended up in absolute chaos, water splashing everywhere.

To his credit, he still had a shred of conscience left: for my first time, he wasn’t rough, nor did he rush through it.

By the time he wrapped me in a plush bathrobe and carried me back to bed, only one single thought remained in my battered mind…

I had hit the damn jackpot.