I once obsessed over Lao Jiazhuo. The first time I dealt with him, he overturned all my cards, and all I could do was stare at his dazzling face… Later on, no one else’s face could make me feel breathless like his did.

I once blindly loved Lao Jiazhuo. Back then, his assistant said that he doted on me so much that even if he laid twelve layers of silk quilts for me, he would still find a pea beneath them just to ensure my comfort. I believed it was true.

I once hated Lao Jiazhuo. All his tenderness and affection were fake; he didn’t marry me sincerely. His revenge was thorough, leaving me utterly devastated.

Later, when I wandered far away from home, he still wouldn’t leave me alone. At this point, he held a high position but humbly sought my favor. Despite being as wealthy as royalty, he lived with me in a small apartment. He begged me to return to him, but how could he think that I, Jiang Yiyin, would always be at his beck and call?

Many, many years later, when I saw the familiar yet glaring ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, even though it hurt me deeply, I resisted fiercely and delivered the line I had rehearsed countless nights: “Is Mr. Lao here in Europe on business? Zurich has beautiful scenery—did your wife accompany you?”

It took half my life to finally break free, barely intact, from a love affair.

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