But she didn’t stop speaking, still rambling on and on, "Son, you’ve seen it yourself. You can’t afford to support Yan Xixi. She already has soone else out there. What kind of car does he drive? That car must be worth tens of millions, right? What kind of person do you think can drive such a car? With the little money you have, do you think she’d even look at you? You should stop having any foolish fantasies about her..."
Huang Xiaojue didn’t make a sound. Clenching his fists tightly, he turned and walked away.
Yan Xixi never returned to that clean and chic rented apartnt.
After taking her mother to the hospital, she had completely cut ties with the apartnt.
Huang Xiaojue used his key to enter. The apartnt felt stark and cold. Everything belonging to Yan Xixi and her mother was still there; not a single item had been taken.
It wasn’t that she had forgotten to retrieve them; these things simply weren’t worth taking.
Her late mother’s scattered dicine bottles and pills, a jar of pearl and white fungus face cream on the bathroom counter—and nothing else.
In the closet were a few old clothes, so counterfeit branded items, a knock-off handbag, and two pairs of simple shoes, both pilled and with frayed edges.
Yes, Zhou Xiaoxuan hadn’t falsely accused her. Huang Xiaojue, her long-distance boyfriend, had no idea about his girlfriend’s true circumstances. Now, these cheap counterfeit brands were all stark testants to the downfall of a fake socialite.
However, while clearing out a suitcase, Huang Xiaojue found a notebook.
He opened it and began to read, word by word.
It was handwritten, the script elegant and neat, recording clearly: "On such-and-such date, year, at such-and-such teahouse, tricked a certain man into swiping his card for a certain amount of money... On another date, in a bar, tricked another man into paying a certain amount of money..."
There were notes in the margins detailing several close calls and how she had escaped. The most perilous incident involved being chased seven blocks by a man, getting hit by an electric bike, and having a swollen ankle for half a month.
The entries weren’t dry or dull but instead were vivid and colorful. It read like a short novel, an engrossing depiction of life’s myriad facets, its joys and sorrows.
He saw one page where she had written: "My ankle’s been swollen for half a month, can’t work, I’m dying of anxiety! ... Yay! Got three thousand yuan from Xiaojue today, haha! I can take a break this month and buy Mom a down jacket... Xiaojue, you’re the best person to in the whole world. I love you, and I’ll love you for my entire life..."
When they were face to face, she had never once uttered the words "I love you"!
Yet here, every sentence, every word, was written with such clarity.
It was like a damning confession.
Huang Xiaojue felt as if his heart were being sliced by a knife, and tears stread down his face.
Especially when Huang Xiaojue picked up the starkly official-looking "AIDS Patient" diagnosis certificate lying nearby, he completely lost all strength. A massive stone seed to press down on his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.
That was her tool for self-defense—a woman’s solitary weapon to declare war on this world. With it, she had repeatedly escaped the jaws of death.
He had long known Xixi’s life was difficult, but he never imagined it was *this* arduous.
The fake designer clothes, the counterfeit bags—they were all props, tools rely for survival. She was snatching food from the tiger’s mouth, wresting money from the hands of lecherous n just to make ends et. For this, she had even forged an "AIDS Patient" diagnosis certificate for protection.
But Zhou Xiaoxuan and others had already labeled her a vain and manipulative woman. Zhou Xiaoxuan’s words had caused him to hesitate for that half an hour before going out.
That single half-hour had changed both their lives forever.
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