Her hands were cold—but he warmed them in his, tucking her feet between his legs with practiced ease.
Warm.
Very warm.
Duan Yan patted her back lightly, his voice sounding completely drained.
“Go to sleep.”
Rong Jiqiao froze for a moment.
Her dazed mind finally began to feel, in a real way, that she had truly been reborn.
She was indeed vain. She was indeed unwilling to accept being dumped by Duan Yan so easily.
She was jealous of Duan Yan’s future wife. She regretted deceiving him back then. That was why she kept entangling herself in the past life—unwilling to accept that everything she had dreamed of since childhood had been ruined by her own hands.
There were so many wicked people in the world who lived just fine.
Was she worse than rich people who bullied men and women? Worse than murderers who got away with everything?
Why was she the one who had to die?
The soundproofing in the shared apartment was terrible—short videos playing from the next room could be heard clearly.
Only when a pale gray light seeped in from outside the window did she finally drift into a half-dazed sleep.
When she woke in a panic, the sun was already high in the sky.
Duan Yan’s side of the bed was empty. The sheets were neatly arranged, as if no one had slept there at all.
A crumpled note lay on the bedside table. The handwriting was sharp and powerful:
“Food is in the fridge. Remember to eat. There’s work at the construction site tonight. Don’t wait for me.”
But Rong Jiqiao had no mind for food.
Was she really reborn?
So did that mean… she could still change her fate?
Even if she couldn’t hold on to Duan Yan in the future, she absolutely could not afford to offend him again.
After returning to the Duan family, even the coworkers who had once shared meals with him at construction sites rose in status overnight.
But the lies she had told… would definitely not stay hidden forever.
She knew exactly what kind of person she was.
Cowardly. Not smart. Greedy for money.
She came from a poor background, and after finally clinging to a rich man, she would never willingly return to being an ordinary nobody again.
But she also understood—rebirth didn’t mean getting a new brain.
She wouldn’t suddenly become smarter.
In her previous life, after Duan Yan returned to the Duan family and learned that everything she said had been a lie, he didn’t hurt her. He even gave her a sum of money and let her go.
It was she who wasn’t satisfied.
…So in this life, what if she started treating Duan Yan well from now on?
She should be able to get more money, right?
Once she got the money, she would run.
By her calculations, Duan Yan still had about half a year before the Duan family would find him. She still had time to win him over.
Rong Jiqiao bit her lip and made up her mind.
She got out of bed and started rummaging through the cramped room.
The wardrobe was stuffed full—sequined dresses, sky-high heels.
She pulled out a stack of credit cards from a luxury-brand dust bag.
One by one, she checked them.
First card: overdue.
Second card: zero limit.
Online banking—the miserable string of “…”
“0.00” was practically mocking her innocence.
Beyond that, all that remained was a wardrobe full of knockoffs.
Those so-called Hermès and Chanel bags had stiff leather that scratched the hand, and the hardware gave off a cheap, brassy gold sheen.
Rong Jiqiao covered her face in despair.
It wasn’t just poor—it was heavily in debt.
While she was still panicking, the door suddenly started shaking violently.
Bang bang bang!
“Open the door! Stop pretending you’re not home!”
It was the landlord.
Rong Jiqiao took a deep breath and forced herself to open the door.
The landlady was leaning against the doorway, a huge bunch of keys in her hand. Her fleshy face trembled with anger.
“Rent! You’ve been overdue for two months!”
Rong Jiqiao put on a strained smile. “Sister, could you maybe—”
“Don’t call me sister!” the landlady snapped, her voice rising. “This 8,000-yuan-a-month place isn’t free housing for outsiders like you! You’ve been dragging this for four months already! If I don’t see the money today, pack your things and get out!”
Eight thousand a month?
And four months overdue?
Rong Jiqiao almost had a heart attack on the spot.
It looked like all the rent Duan Yan had worked so hard to earn from hauling bricks had been spent by her on those Yiwu-made luxury knockoffs—and on trying to hook rich men in upscale places.
“Sister… just one day. Can I have one more day?” she pleaded, lowering her tone almost to begging.
The landlady spat. Droplets almost hit her face.
“Last day! I’ll come tomorrow. If there’s still no money, I’m changing the locks!”
Watching the landlady storm away, Rong Jiqiao slumped against the doorframe, completely drained.
Oh heavens.
I’ll never call you ‘Heavenly Grandma’ again.
Because you clearly never treated me like your granddaughter.
She rushed back into the room and stuffed all the semi-decent knockoff bags and fake jewelry into a bag.
At the second-hand market in the afternoon, the air smelled of damp dust mixed with salt.
The shop owner poked at the pile of goods in disgust.
“This workmanship is too fake. Five hundred is already generous.”
Rong Jiqiao gritted her teeth. “One thousand! If not, I’m going to the next shop.”
After a long tug-of-war, she finally sold everything for 3,000 yuan.
Unexpectedly, buried among the fake goods was an authentic Chanel piece. Even she couldn’t remember where it came from.
Probably some rich man had given it to her.
The owner bought it for 30,000 yuan.
Adding the small bits of cash she scraped together from various apps, she now had enough for two months’ rent, with 4,000 yuan left for living expenses.
She didn’t dare hesitate and immediately transferred the rent to the landlord.
She also sent a WeChat message:
“Sister, rent has been paid. We’ll move out by the end of the month and won’t renew the lease.”
She couldn’t stay in this cursed place another day.
At that moment, Duan Yan was walking past the residential complex downstairs.
He had just picked up his new uniform from the property management office. He planned to go home briefly to drop it off before heading to his night shift at the construction site.
The corridor outside, Old Wang—the man living next door—was squatting there smoking.
Old Wang was a gossip, and the moment he saw Duan Yan return, he quickly leaned over.
“Hey, Xiao Duan, your girlfriend got into trouble again?”
Duan Yan stopped walking. His brows furrowed slightly.
“What happened?”
Old Wang clicked his tongue a few times, his eyes full of sympathy.
“The landlady made a huge scene at noon. Said you two haven’t paid rent for four months. I mean… you work yourself to death every day—where’s all your money going?”
Four months of unpaid rent?
Duan Yan’s grip on the bag tightened violently.
His knuckles turned white from the force.
Every month, he transferred the money to Rong Jiqiao on time.
And she always said the rent was paid, and whatever was left was for living expenses.
Salaries in Beijing were indeed higher.
He earned 5,500 a month as a security guard. After work, he delivered food for another eight hours and made around 5,000 more. Plus odd jobs, he could bring in around 12,000–13,000 yuan a month.
He only kept a few hundred yuan for himself and transferred the rest to her.
Back then, it was Rong Jiqiao who insisted on coming to Beijing, saying a small town had no future.
It was also her who insisted on renting a few-thousand-yuan apartment, saying the environment was better, the location better, and it would be easier to find work.
He agreed to everything.
Because he owed her.
She didn’t work. Every day she went out dressed up beautifully, returning late at night with the scent of perfume on her. He never questioned her once.
He thought she just liked to play, liked beauty—that girls were like that.
He could just work a little harder.
…
Rong Jiqiao came home humming an off-key tune, holding a takeout box, using her key to open the door.
She seemed to be in a good mood. After entering, she casually flipped on the light switch.
The sudden brightness made both of them squint.
Their eyes met.
The easy expression on Rong Jiqiao’s face froze instantly, like someone had hit pause.
Startled, she nearly dropped the takeout in her hands.
“You… you’re back? Didn’t you say… you were working overtime tonight?”
Duan Yan was sitting on the sofa, his tall frame sunk into the shadows. Only his eyes were visible under the light—shining in a way that made them feel almost dangerous.
He didn’t answer her question.
Instead, he stared at her without blinking.
His gaze was like two scalpels—calm, precise, as if trying to dissect her from the inside out.
Rong Jiqiao felt her scalp go numb under his stare.
Today, she wore no makeup. Her face was clean and bare, like a blank sheet of paper.
She was dressed in a loose white down jacket, bulky and warm, hiding all her delicate curves.
Completely different from the woman who usually left the house in tight dresses and ten-centimeter heels.
He studied her face for a few seconds, then slowly spoke.
“Where did you go?”