“Give me a year.”
Duan Yan cut her off.
Rong Jiqiao froze.
Her hand was pressed against the edge of the table, knuckles turning white.
“Give me one year.” For the first time, he interrupted her, but he lowered his gaze and didn’t look at her. “If after a year I still haven’t amounted to anything, then you can bring up breaking up. I won’t stop you.”
Rong Jiqiao looked at him, not reacting for a moment.
Something in Duan Yan’s eyes was surging—pressed down very deep, but impossible to hide completely.
He pressed his lips together and continued, “I know you’ve been suffering following me. The place we’re living isn’t good, the food is average, and my monthly salary is only that much…”
He paused, as if trying to convince himself.
“But I won’t always be like this.”
Rong Jiqiao’s throat tightened.
After a few seconds, he added quietly, “Otherwise, if you break up with me now, I’m afraid you won’t have anyone to take care of you—you might end up starving out there.”
Duan Yan had never spoken like this before.
In her past life, even when he treated her well, he always kept things to himself—he rarely said anything with this kind of pleading tone.
She bit her lip, her thoughts in turmoil.
Then she lowered her head. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard.”
Duan Yan paused slightly.
Rong Jiqiao looked up at him. “Don’t take so much work at the construction site. Your body’s going to break.”
His throat moved. His voice turned deeper. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Her eyes were slightly red. “Your face is already so pale, and you still say you’re fine.”
She sniffed. “You can’t wear yourself out like this. Otherwise, forget about you supporting me—you’ll just end up in the hospital and it’ll cost even more money.”
“I’ll be careful,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Even she didn’t know why she hadn’t taken the easy way out and agreed to break up just now.
One year.
Duan Yan had said one year.
Only she knew that a year wasn’t even necessary.
Within a year, Duan Yan would become the head of the most powerful family in the capital.
So… she could just treat this as continuing to “act” with him a little longer.
Right now, Duan Yan wanted to plan a future with her—he probably still liked her.
As long as she kept things as they were, she might even be able to get quite a few benefits.
And once his attitude changed, she would immediately pack up and disappear without hesitation.
……
The next morning, when she woke up, Duan Yan was already gone.
A note was pressed under the bedside table lamp. The handwriting was rough:
[Working late tonight. Don’t wait for me.]
She got up, washed up, and prepared to go to the clinic.
Just after she stepped out, she ran into Old Wang.
Old Wang was squatting at the stairwell smoking. When he saw her, he greeted her with a smile.
“Hey, Little Rong, out this early?”
Rong Jiqiao nodded. “Yeah, going to work.”
Old Wang exhaled a puff of smoke. “Your boyfriend’s working overtime again today?”
“Mm.”
“That kid’s not bad—hardworking,” Old Wang said with a sigh. “Young people like him who can endure hardship aren’t common anymore.”
Rong Jiqiao forced a small smile but didn’t respond.
Old Wang continued, “So when are you two getting married? Your boyfriend treats you pretty well. Better settle it soon—don’t let him slip away.”
Her smile stiffened.
“Still early,” she said vaguely, then quickly went downstairs.
Behind her, Old Wang called out, “Young people shouldn’t be too picky—when you meet someone good, grab onto them!”
……
After work.
Rong Jiqiao pushed open the clinic’s glass door and walked out with her bag.
The sky had just begun to darken. Streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a dim yellow glow. The smoke from a street stall frying stinky tofu drifted over, making her cough twice.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Duan Yan:
[I’m coming back]
The moment she crossed the street, she replied with a simple “Okay.”, tucked her phone away, and hurried over.
Duan Yan was leaning against a utility pole, holding a supermarket shopping bag, a small electric scooter parked by his feet.
Rong Jiqiao walked up to him. “Bought groceries?”
He looked up at her and nodded. “Mm. Hotpot tonight.”
As he spoke, he hung the bag on the scooter’s handlebar, then patted the back seat. “Get on.”
She sat behind him, hands resting lightly at his waist.
He rode slowly, turning into a street and entering a decent-looking residential area.
The scooter stopped in front of a six-story building. Duan Yan got off and took out his keys.
“Come up and take a look.”
She followed him upstairs. On the third floor, he unlocked the door.
Warm lights were already on inside.
The living room wasn’t big, but it was clean—a sofa, a coffee table wiped spotless, and modular floor mats neatly laid out.
Not the damp, moldy old urban village rooms with peeling walls and no sunlight.
This place even had a large balcony. In daytime, the light would be excellent.
In a big city, having a slightly decent place to live was already a luxury.
For this kind of apartment in this location—new-looking but solidly built—even people earning twenty to thirty thousand a month might hesitate to rent it.
Duan Yan changed his shoes and looked back at her. “Why are you just standing there?”
She followed him in.
He leaned against the kitchen counter, one hand resting on it, turning his head slightly to look at her.
“How is it?”
She glanced around the kitchen, then the living room, her eyes brightening. “It’s really nice!”
For a moment, an absurd thought flashed through her mind—
She even wanted to take Duan Yan back to her hometown and hope he would never be found by the Duan family.
So he would never discover that she had been deceiving him.