Chapter 1: It’s Over. Let’s Break Up.

Everyone in their circle knew—Su Yumian was hopelessly in love with Jiang Yihuai. So in love that she had no life of her own, no time for herself. She wanted nothing more than to revolve around him 24/7. Every time they broke up, she would come crawling back within three days, begging to get back together. Anyone in the world could say the words “break up”—except Su Yumian.

Jiang Yihuai walked in with his new fling, and the private room fell into an eerie silence for a few seconds. Su Yumian paused mid-peeling an orange. “Why is everyone so quiet? And why are you all looking at me?”

“Mianmian…” Her friend gave her a worried glance. But Jiang Yihuai, completely unbothered, wrapped his arm around the woman and sat down on the couch. “Happy birthday, Cheng Zhou.”

Shameless. Unapologetic.

Su Yumian stood up. It was Cheng Zhou’s birthday—she didn’t want to cause a scene.

“I’m going to the restroom.”

As she shut the door, she overheard the conversation inside—

“Jiang-ge, Yumian’s here. Didn’t I warn you ahead of time? Why did you still bring her?”

“Yeah! Huai, you went too far this time.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jiang Yihuai unwrapped his arm from the woman’s slender waist and lit a cigarette. Through the rising smoke, he smirked. Like a reckless playboy treating life as a game. The rest of the conversation was lost as the door clicked shut.

In the restroom, Su Yumian calmly freshened up. As she touched up her makeup, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and suddenly curved her lips into a smirk.

“Pathetic.”

The way she lived was pathetic. Taking a deep breath, she made up her mind. But when she returned and pushed open the door, the scene before her made her grip the doorknob so tightly her knuckles turned white. Jiang Yihuai was kissing the woman, their lips pressed together, saliva dampening the napkin between them. The room erupted into laughter—

“Damn! Jiang-ge really knows how to play!”

“It’s stuck! It’s stuck!”

“Come on, the mood is perfect—give us a real kiss!”

Su Yumian’s hand trembled on the doorknob. This was the man she had loved for six years. At this moment, all she felt was mockery.

“Hey, maybe we should stop…” Someone whispered, glancing toward the door. Everyone turned their heads in unison.

“M-Mianmian, you’re back? We were just messing around—don’t take it the wrong way…” But Jiang Yihuai cut him off, his gaze indifferent. “Yumian, since you’re here, let’s get this over with.” She clenched her fingers, nails digging into her palms, yet she felt no pain. Six years. And all she got was—“It’s over.”

“Xixi is a good girl. I want to make things official with her.”

Su Yumian numbly nodded. “Alright.”

“Even though we’re breaking up, we’re still friends. If you ever need anything in Beijing, you can still come to me.”

“No need.” She smiled lightly. “Since we’re done, let’s make it clean. It’s only fair to her.”

Jiang Yihuai raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised.

She turned to Cheng Zhou. “Happy birthday, Cheng Zhou. Have fun, everyone. I’m leaving now. Oh, and I peeled those oranges—make sure to eat them, don’t waste them.”

Jiang Yihuai didn’t like fruit, except for oranges. But he was picky—he wouldn’t eat them unless the white pith was completely removed. For years, to make sure he got his daily vitamins, Su Yumian would peel the oranges, meticulously strip off every fiber, and arrange them neatly on a plate before handing them to him. When he was in a good mood, he’d pull her into his arms and tease, “My girlfriend is too good to me. So considerate.”

“Are you trying to make me marry you?”

He always knew what she wanted. But he never once promised to give it to her. “I’ll have the driver take you home.” Jiang Yihuai said.

“No need. I already called a cab.”

“Mianmian, I’ll walk you to the door.” Cheng Zhou offered. She shook her head, politely declining, and left. As soon as she was gone, someone muttered, “Bro Jiang… this feels different. I think she’s really mad this time.”

“No way.”

“Exactly! They’ve fought so many times, and every single time, she comes crawling back within days, acting like nothing happened.”

“I bet five days.”

“I say six.”

Jiang Yihuai glanced at the open door, smirking. “Three hours. She’ll be back.”

“Ha! Jiang wins. Everyone knows Su Yumian is obsessed with him.”

“Damn, why can’t I find a girl that loyal?”

“You? Not in this lifetime!”

The room erupted in laughter.

—

By the time Su Yumian got back to the villa, it was past midnight. She spent thirty minutes packing. Three years in this house, yet everything she wanted fit into one suitcase. She ignored the designer clothes and jewelry she had never worn. The only thing she hesitated over was her bookshelf. But then again, she had memorized everything inside. The books themselves didn’t matter. Her eyes landed on the vanity. She walked over and pulled open a drawer. Inside was a check. Fifty million. Underneath it, a signed contract—the deed for plots 3-5 in East Suburb No. 72. Even in the suburbs, the land was worth at least twenty million. Jiang Yihuai had left them there after one of their past breakups, knowing she would never take them. Because if she did, it would mean their relationship was truly over.

Six years for seventy million?

Not a bad deal. How many women got paid that much for their youth? She grabbed both and slipped them into her bag. She had already given him six years—why leave empty-handed? Love was gone, but at least she had money. She wasn’t some clueless romance novel heroine who saw money as worthless.

“Hello, is this the cleaning service? Do you take urgent jobs?”

“…Yes, deep cleaning. I’ll pay extra.”

She left the house key on the table, got into a cab, and headed to her best friend’s place. Halfway there, the cleaning lady called back. “Miss, are you sure you don’t want to keep any of these things?”

“No. Do whatever you want with them.” She ended the call.

—

Jiang Yihuai got home at dawn. The strong perfume on his clothes gave him a headache. He loosened his collar, planning to rest on the couch, but ended up passing out. The next morning, the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen woke him. He groggily sat up, rubbing his temples, and reached for a glass of water—only to grab nothing but air. His hand hovered in the empty space. Then, he smirked.

So she came back, covered me with a blanket, but didn’t make me hangover tea?

Still playing this game after all these years?

Hah…

Jiang Yihuai got up. “You better—”

“Young Master, you’re awake?”

“…Aunt Wang?”

“Go wash up. Breakfast is almost ready. Oh, and were you cold last night? I turned on the heater, but just to be safe, I added an extra blanket.”

“…Mm.”