Chapter 6

When Ethan left, the door opened and a young woman was standing outside.

Just like me back then, she had a makeup-free baby face and bright eyes.

She also had shallow dimples and was very pretty.

Her surname was Pitt, and she was Ocean's CEO assistant.

Little Zoe was neat and efficient, looking especially good in her professional attire.

Her voice was soft and pleasant. She looked at Ethan with eyes full of anxiety -

"Boss, are you going home?"

Ethan left without looking back.

Little Zoe glanced at me, then quickly caught up to his footsteps, reaching out to hold his hand.

He didn't refuse. The two of them made a perfect match from behind.

I remembered the industry cocktail party a month ago.

Initially we wanted to collaborate with Mr. Xu from Yongfeng.

I negotiated with him for a week, but that old fox just wouldn't budge. To try to win him over, I went with him to that cocktail party.

I followed him the whole way, talking about our project and prospects.

Finally he got a bit annoyed and said to me: "I said I wanted to sign a valuation adjustment mechanism agreement, but you're not willing. So there's nothing more to discuss. Your company does have potential, but the financing is no small amount. Everyone is just looking out for their own interests. Why don't you go ask Dongming if they're willing to invest? What a joke."

That day, Ethan was also at the cocktail party.

Mr. Xu spotted him immediately. Thinking I didn't know him, he probably had some malicious intent when he said to me: "See that? That's CEO Chi from Ocean. Young and accomplished. Let me introduce you. Go talk to him and see if he's willing to give you the time of day."

At that moment, I already had a bad feeling.

But Mr. Xu had already called out: "CEO Chi!"

Then after six years, under his introduction, I met Ethan for the first time.

He wore an expensive suit, impeccably dressed, his attitude distant and cold.

I was disheveled, my words awkward. It was a very undignified reunion.

Just like six years ago, when we broke up in an undignified way.

That day I felt very embarrassed and wanted to leave quickly.

But as I was leaving, at a corner of the hotel, I saw that assistant Zoe.

I don't know why, but her eyes were red from crying. Ethan had his back to me, holding her in his arms, softly comforting her.

A perfect match. Little Zoe's eyes were red, her face also flushed.

She must be a very good girl.

Ethan had finally learned to let go.

Leaving the club, I took a taxi.

The driver asked where I wanted to go.

Aimlessly, I went to a shopping street near Central Tower.

The city hadn't changed much. The old street was close to the night market, still a place young people loved to hang out.

It was very late. Some shop owners were closing up.

A noodle stand set up outside a shop at the end was still open.

There weren't many customers. The owner was very enthusiastic, telling me their sour soup beef noodles were delicious, only $22 a bowl.

I asked if they had old-style soup noodles for $3 a bowl.

The owner was stunned for a moment, then smiled and said: "Wait a sec, I'll make it for you."

I received a call from Megan.

She said urgently: "Lucy! Did you go find Ethan? I told you to forget it. We don't need the company anymore, we don't need to do the project. Worst case, Quinn and I will rent a place to get married and slowly pay off our debts. I'm willing to spend a lifetime paying it back! Come back quickly!"

"Megan, he agreed."

"What?"

Megan on the other end of the phone couldn't believe it: "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you. If you got it by sacrificing your dignity, I'd rather not have it."

"Really, he didn't make any demands."

"Impossible."

"It's true."

I thought for a moment, then added: "Well, not completely without conditions. He said, from now on we're even."

That's good enough, really.

After all, when I broke up with him back then, what I wanted was a clean break, for us both to be well.

I was eating noodles with my head down when a nearby accessory shop that hadn't closed yet caught my eye, its lights glittering.

The speakers placed at the entrance played a song that echoed through the quiet night streets -

You say this scenery is like a painting

I see your wandering heart and mind

Don't listen to me speak anymore

Take off all your disguises

Can you hear me crying?

You probably can't hear anyway

You're like a white horse

Escaping carefree

Let me take a careful look at your appearance

Counting down the final moments before the curtain falls

Forgive me for falling silent too early

Do you know, graceful one, that I am covered in wounds

...

The noodles were too hot, really too hot.

I ate hurriedly, tears dripping silently into the bowl.

I thought of little Lucy from childhood. If her final exam results were good, her dad would bring her here to eat a bowl of old-style soup noodles.

Those noodles were so fragrant.

Steaming hot, with her dad's smiling face visible through the mist.

In this life, there really aren't many good times we can look back on.

Some people's encounters are probably destined to be a tragedy from the very beginning.

Just like when I met Ethan at 16 years old, I was going through the darkest period of my life.

That year, my dad became a vegetable after a car accident. The hit-and-run driver escaped.

That year, my mom took me to the paper mill where my dad worked to demand the boss pay the overdue wages.

Nine thousand two hundred and thirty dollars.

For that nine thousand two hundred and thirty dollars, she took me to live and sleep in the paper mill office, laying out a mat, blocking the boss for several days.

I was in my first year of high school then, with good grades. I was the study committee member in my class.

A quiet, well-behaved girl who viewed studying as very important.

I softly said to my mom: "I only asked for two days off from school. I want to go tell the teacher."

She cursed at me: "School? What school?! Your dad is half dead and you're still thinking about school? If we don't get the money, how are you going to school?!"

My mom's name was Cathy.

She was a bad-tempered, cold and selfish person.

Also a very terrible person.

From a young age, I grew up amid my parents' endless arguments.

Mom complained that dad was useless and didn't earn much.

Dad complained that mom played mahjong all day, neglecting the child and not cooking.

A child raised in a very ordinary family where the parents don't love each other is bound to be sensitive and starved for affection.

It wasn't until much, much later that I learned Cathy was on her second marriage to my dad.

Of course I was her biological daughter, but I wasn't her only child.

She was a woman who had abandoned her family and children before.

Back then she left behind a pair of children, met my dad by chance on a train, and followed him off directly.

It's said her two children are still in a remote mountain village to this day, where kids as young as a few years old have to carry baskets on their backs to work in the fields, dressed in rags.

She was tired of poverty, so she followed my dad, originally wanting to live a good life in the big city.

Unfortunately my dad was just an ordinary worker at a suburban paper mill who hadn't even managed to find a wife yet.

She gradually became resentful, cursing my dad for deceiving her.

When I was in kindergarten, she developed a mahjong addiction, and it was all downhill from there.

She was rarely home, and when she did come back it was just to ask for money.

Besides working, my dad did all the housework.

The relationship was long gone. The only reason they were still living together was because my dad said: "She's still your mom after all. Having a mom is better than not having one."

But it was this mom who, in the year I turned 16, took me to surround the paper mill boss. When she got the chance, she blocked his car like a madwoman, messing up her own hair, pulling open her shirt to expose her chest, wailing and calling for everyone to come look.

She used this attention-grabbing method to cry and complain: "We can't go on living! My husband is in that state, and they're still withholding our wages. They're forcing us mother and daughter to our deaths..."

The boss in the car urged the driver to leave, not wanting to deal with her.

Seeing this, she directly pulled me in front of the car and took out a bottle of pesticide from her bag.

That pesticide bottle contained paraquat she had bought from somewhere.

I was already in high school, so of course I knew what this meant.

I struggled in terror, crying and shouting non-stop: "Mom! Mom! Don't!"

She was so strong, like a madwoman, forcibly prying open my mouth and raising the bottle to pour it in.

"You're forcing us to die! We'll die right here in front of you all today..."

The boss in the car finally got scared. He hurriedly got out: "Ma'am! Let's talk this over! We'll go to accounting to get the money right now."

Cathy was satisfied and went with them to get the money.

I knelt in the paper mill, crying loudly, vomiting non-stop, sticking my fingers down my throat.

She had poured some in.

I had heard my grandma say before that paraquat was an extremely toxic pesticide. Once ingested, there was no chance of survival. It would be an agonizing death.

I was so, so scared. I cried and vomited, my whole body shaking uncontrollably.

Until Cathy came out smiling with the money.

She kicked me irritably, cursing: "You won't die. That was just water in there. Look at how useless you are, not even good for this!"

Cathy was my mom.

My biological mother.

But after getting that nine thousand two hundred and thirty dollars back, she didn't spend a cent on me.

She was addicted to playing mahjong and still rarely came home.

For clothes and shoes when the seasons changed, and fees the school required, her response was always the same: "Go ask your aunt! With your dad in that state, you should be thankful I haven't left!"

She wanted me to go to my aunt for everything.

She even wanted to dump my bedridden father with no one to care for him onto my aunt's family.

The thing she said most often was: "Lucy, you should be grateful. If I left, you wouldn't even be able to go to school. You'd have to drop out to take care of your dad at home."

She was right. My grandma was elderly and had always been cared for by my aunt.

My aunt's family wasn't well-off and had their hands full. My cousin's college living expenses all came from his own part-time work during breaks.

My dad was my responsibility and duty, not anyone else's.

That's why I was a day student throughout high school. On weekends and holidays I was basically always at home, doing laundry and cooking, helping massage and clean my dad.

Unless absolutely necessary, I didn't dare ask my aunt for money.

Because I was afraid my uncle would object.

So for years I wore my school uniform. When other classmates were comparing shoes, I wore the same $30 canvas shoes until they fell apart.

It was under these circumstances that I met Ethan.

In the first semester of 11th grade, he transferred to Jia Lewis High School.

The reason for his transfer was reportedly because he was a troublemaker, difficult to manage at school. He had beaten up the disciplinary teacher.

His family was rich and powerful. After the incident was settled, his parents decided to transfer him.

The principal of our school was an old acquaintance of his parents.

This also led to Ethan adapting very quickly after coming to Jia Lewis.

Oh no, he didn't need to adapt at all.

Someone like Ethan was arrogant and unruly. His sharp, handsome features were distinct and angular. His thin lips curled slightly, youthful and spirited, like he was backlit, dazzlingly eye-catching.

The teacher arranged for him to sit next to me, thinking that since my grades were good, I could help tutor him a bit.

He didn't need any tutoring at all. His books were pristine and clean, showing he had no intention of studying.

The boys in our class and even the school who didn't have good grades quickly became friends with him, calling him "Brother Ethan" and "Boss".

The girls also all liked him. The prettiest and proudest girl in our class, Janie, was always smiling and chatting with him.

All the teachers and students in the whole school liked him.

During breaks, the boys would gather outside the classroom chattering, asking him why he beat up the disciplinary teacher at his previous school.

He lazily raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously: "That old bastard had double standards. When boys misbehaved, he'd scold them on the spot. But for girl students, he insisted on calling them to his office and even closed the door. I couldn't stand for it, so I kicked the door open..."

...