Rong Jiqiao held the takeout box in her hands, trying to force out a natural smile.
“Nowhere special. Just wandered around outside a bit and bought some food to bring back.”
She had originally planned to say, “I even got you some fried rice noodles for supper, and I also checked out some apartments today—I found a cheaper place.”
But before she could even get the words out, Duan Yan’s next question struck like ice—cold and hard.
“What about normally? Every day you go out, what exactly do you do?”
It’s over.
The smile on Rong Jiqiao’s face stiffened.
In reality, she spent her days going to all kinds of nightlife spots, trying to “accidentally” meet rich second-generation heirs.
How could she say that out loud?
Her brain spun at full speed, but her mouth reacted even faster than her reason.
“I… I’m looking for a job.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted it.
The excuse was too flimsy, and her stammering tone made her guilt painfully obvious.
As expected, a faint, mocking curve appeared at the corner of Duan Yan’s lips.
Who would go job hunting wearing makeup like that?
And every time she came back, she carried the scent of high-end venues.
He had only been pretending not to notice all this time—out of gratitude for her so-called “life-saving favor.”
“You’ve been in Beijing for five months and still haven’t found anything suitable?”
Duan Yan’s voice remained calm.
But he had already guessed everything.
He had guessed she wasn’t really looking for work at all, that she was idling her time away outside, wasting her life.
As for whether he had also guessed what she was really doing out there—Rong Jiqiao didn’t know.
All she could feel was the terrifying pressure beneath his calm exterior, like a storm brewing just out of sight, making her scalp go numb.
Yet Duan Yan simply looked at her in silence.
After a long pause, he spoke again.
“I’m not asking you to go out and work.”
Rong Jiqiao froze.
“If you don’t want to go out, then don’t.” he continued slowly, each word clear and deliberate. “But the neighbor said you haven’t paid rent for four months. I give you at least twelve thousand every month—what did you spend it on?”
Boom.
A cold wave of fear shot straight from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.
What she feared wasn’t that he was questioning the money.
What she feared was that following this thread… he would uncover what she had actually been doing outside.
She couldn’t let him know.
Under overwhelming panic, instinct took over before reason could intervene.
Her eyes turned red in an instant,
The tears she had been holding back finally burst out all at once.
Her voice was thick with a sobbing tone—wronged and helpless.
Choking, she spoke incoherently.
“I’m sorry… Duan Yan, I’m really sorry… it’s my fault…”
“I… I only realized after coming to Beijing for five months that everything here is so expensive… too expensive. The quality of life is even worse than in our small town…”
“I tried to find a job, but either it was too tiring or the pay was too low… so… so I thought I’d try those kinds of places instead…”
The cold anger on Duan Yan’s face suddenly froze.
When Rong Jiqiao dressed up like that and went out, the “kinds of places” she referred to—any adult would understand what she meant.
As she spoke, she kept crying. Crystal tears rolled down her clean, bare face, making her look pitiful beyond measure.
Duan Yan’s throat moved slightly.
He had always known what kind of person Rong Jiqiao was.
He had imagined countless possibilities.
That she would cry and say she had been deceived.
That she would lie and say something urgent had happened at home.
That she might even shamelessly accuse him of not earning enough.
But he had never expected her to tell the truth.
At that moment, the landlady called.
Duan Yan picked up. Before he could even speak, she launched straight into complaints.
“Why did you transfer the rent again? I’ve already sent it back to you! Your girlfriend already paid me this afternoon. What’s going on with you two? First you owe four months, then suddenly you pay double?”
Duan Yan tightened his grip on the phone, his expression sharpening.
The landlady continued complaining, “You young people really are something. You don’t pay on time, then suddenly pay only after I come knocking.”
Duan Yan simply said, “Sorry for the trouble,” and hung up.
He had thought Rong Jiqiao hadn’t paid rent because she had spent all his money, which was why he had asked colleagues to help cover four months’ rent.
He hadn’t expected that she had already made up the payment herself.
Duan Yan raised his head, the word “you” still stuck in his throat—
And his gaze fell on the empty pocket hanging from the simple wardrobe.
That pocket used to be full.
Full of her accessories, cosmetics, perfumes.
Now it was empty.
She had sold them all.
Duan Yan’s throat tightened.
He knew how much she treasured those things.
Every time she went out before, she would stand in front of the mirror for a long time, carefully choosing, adjusting—
Necklaces paired with earrings, lipstick carefully applied, eyebrows drawn with precision—she used to dress herself up like a mannequin in a shop window.
She always said, a woman should treat herself a little better.
But now, she had sold all of those things.
For a moment, Duan Yan felt something complicated rising in his chest.
Rong Jiqiao noticed him fidgeting with the hem of his clothes and didn’t dare make a sound.
But Duan Yan simply stepped in front of her and reached out to wipe her tears away.
“I was just worried you’d get cheated out there,” he said softly, a hint of helplessness in his voice. “Why are you crying? I didn’t scold you.”
Rong Jiqiao froze.
She had expected him to scold her for wasting money.
Duan Yan wiped her tears, then glanced at the clock on the wall.
“I’ll stay and eat with you before I go.”
“Aren’t you going to work?” she asked through her tears.
“I’ll be an hour late. It’s fine. You eat your takeout. I’ll just cook some noodles.”
Only then did Rong Jiqiao remember the takeout box still in her hand.
She hurriedly placed it on the coffee table and opened it. Inside were two portions of fried rice noodles, still steaming.
“I bought this… as your supper,” she said softly, not daring to look at him. “I thought you’d be hungry when you came back at night.”
Duan Yan stared at the two boxes of noodles, his throat moving slightly.
Rong Jiqiao had never cared about him before.
She never asked whether he had eaten, whether he was tired.
Let alone buying him supper.
Duan Yan picked up his chopsticks and took a bite, lowering his head.
Rong Jiqiao also sat down, picking up the other pair of chopsticks and eating in small, careful bites.
Neither of them spoke.
Only the faint clinking of chopsticks against the plastic containers filled the room.
Halfway through the meal, Duan Yan suddenly asked,
“Where did you sell them this afternoon?”
Rong Jiqiao paused, swallowing the noodles in her mouth.
“At a second-hand luxury store.”
“How much did you get?”
“33,000,” she replied, then added, “They haggled the price down a lot.”
Duan Yan didn’t respond.
He knew those things were bought with money she had saved over months.
Back when she was still working in her hometown, earning a little over three thousand a month, she had saved for half a year just to buy a necklace.
These were things she had spent years accumulating.
And yet now, she had sold everything for 33,000 yuan.
Once so meticulous and money-conscious, the girl who had chosen to be with him now seemed to be living worse and worse because of him.