After getting back together with Asher, everyone around him said I had changed. I used to be notoriously high-maintenance. I demanded to check his phone, clung to him like a second skin, and needed to know his every move. It wasn't until I drowned in the gap between our social classes that I suddenly realized: everyone around him thought I wasn't worthy. Later, I became his mistress. Obedient, considerate, terrified to say the word "love," and an expert at exchanging sweet nothings for his black card. But he gripped my hand tight, his eyes red, asking me why I didn't love him anymore. 1 When I reunited with Asher Sterling, I was busy drinking with an investor. My startup was bleeding cash. I had been scolded for hours, forcing a smile while pouring whiskey into an empty stomach. I rushed to the restroom, forcing myself to throw up until my eyes were red and stinging. That’s when I locked eyes with Asher. He was surrounded by people, the center of the universe, looking like the moon among stars. In my daze, his gaze swept over me lightly, indifferent, as if looking at trash. I remembered when we broke up, I had stomped my foot and screamed at him, "What's so great about having money?" Now, after being beaten down by society eight hundred times, I finally knew: having money is actually fantastic. After the breakup, I was living like a dog, and my ex saw it all. When I pushed the private room door open again, the investor who had been fierce moments ago was now smiling fawningly, calling him "Mr. Sterling." The investor extended a hand. Asher didn't shake it. The atmosphere grew awkward. The investor was my client; Asher was my client's client. I couldn't afford to offend either. I had to be the smooth operator. "I'm so sorry. I didn't recognize Mr. Sterling just now. I’ll drink three glasses as an apology." The spicy liquor burned down my throat, suppressing the insignificant bitterness in my heart. The investor's face relaxed. Asher looked at me and asked directly, "How much funding are you short?" My company was on the verge of bankruptcy. The startup phase burns money like paper. My eyes lit up. Right there at the dinner table, Asher signed the investment agreement with a wave of his hand. "I don't think I have your contact info. Report the company's operating status directly to me from now on." He capped his pen, clasped his hands, and looked at me with composure. The posture of a superior. I quickly took out my phone, skillfully playing the role of a sycophant. I re-added the WeChat I had once blocked, the one I swore I’d never contact again until I died. I knew it wouldn't be that simple. Sure enough, he messaged me immediately. [Come to me after this.] I treated myself like a piece of meat on the chopping block. I rinsed my mouth carefully and used perfume to mask the smell of alcohol he hated most. Then I knocked on his car window and gave him my sweetest smile. That day, I exchanged my body for resources. It was no big deal, I told myself. To climb up by any means necessary, to make the company grow, I was destined to sacrifice some dignity. During this reunion, Asher didn't say a single soft word. He kept a straight face in the car, letting me rack my brains to find topics of conversation. Then, in the heat of the moment, he pinched my chin and smiled cruelly. "I knew you would come back to me." He stroked my hair, absent-mindedly, like petting a dog. "Be good from now on. Don't threaten to break up again, okay?" 2 After that day, I moved into Asher's penthouse. I was shocked. Three years after the breakup, the layout of his home hadn't changed a bit. The lemon tree on the balcony, which I bought, had grown taller. The antique shelf still held the cheap trinkets I had bought randomly; they looked ridiculous against the luxury decor. On the fridge, a note I once wrote was yellowing and fading. Piggy, I love you so much! I made breakfast, remember to eat it. I plan to miss you 100 times today. XOXO. I shuddered, shaking off the goosebumps. The walk-in closet was mostly empty. Asher's clothes occupied only one section. The bags I didn't take when we broke up were still displayed there. It felt strange yet familiar. "Don't overthink it. I rarely come back here. I just forgot to throw things away," Asher added. I remembered the past. I loved to cause drama just to test my place in his heart. That’s why none of Asher's friends liked me. When we broke up, his childhood friend, Vanessa, told me bluntly that I was too full of myself. Asher didn't defend me. Looking back, I was the immature one. If you want the money, don't ask for love. We were naturally unequal. I nodded calmly and even managed a smile at Asher. "I'm honored Mr. Sterling kept these things. I was immature back then, please don't take it to heart." Asher's face visibly fell. He wanted to say something but remained silent. 3 I only brought a few sets of clothes, all identical business suits. The closet looked barren. This was a lesson learned from the last breakup. That day, I discovered Asher's family was looking for a fiancée for him, and he hadn't refused. My tears flowed like a fountain. I cried messily, sniffling constantly. It was ugly and pathetic, as if preventing snot from running down was the last shred of dignity I had left. Asher and a group of his friends sat in the living room, watching me squat on the floor, stuffing clothes into my suitcase one by one. Their eyes held silent pity and mockery. Vanessa even held my hand. "Elena, even if Asher has a fiancée, it won't affect your relationship. In this circle, everyone knows how it works. You need to be understanding." I shouted that they were disgusting, that they were all psychopaths! Then, under their gaze, I dragged my heavy suitcase and shuffled to the door, step by step. That day, my love and dignity shattered into pieces. I swore I would never let myself fall into such a predicament again. "I'll have someone come over tomorrow to measure you. We need to add some dresses," Asher said, frowning at the empty closet. I wanted to refuse, but then I thought, better outfits for meeting clients. So I turned around, wrapped my arms around his neck coquettishly, and kissed him on the cheek. "Okay. Thank you, Mr. Sterling." The smile on Asher's face froze. He stared at me for a long time. "You didn't call me Mr. Sterling before. Don't you think it's too distant?" Before, I had many nicknames for him. Baby, Honey, Ash. Thinking about it now makes me nauseous. Later, I realized his family and close friends called him "Ash." He never told me to use that name. Just like he never brought me into his social circle. I was always the intruder who didn't know the rules. I turned and smiled even sweeter. "Sorry, Ash. I wasn't paying attention to the details." Asher's face grew darker. He walked out without a word. This man is impossible to please! 4 Enemies meet on a narrow road. The next day, just after playing tennis with a client, I bumped into Vanessa and Asher. A trace of awkwardness flashed in her eyes. We didn't exactly part on good terms. I always felt Asher and she were too close. They could share a drink, wear the same jacket, and Vanessa could even pick his future wife. I thought it crossed a line. But Asher hated when I cared about these things. "I will never think a girlfriend is more important than my social circle. After all, you have nothing and bring me nothing." In a past argument, Asher had spoken the truth while drunk. I dug my nails into my palms to hold back tears. Poverty is humiliating enough. Being with someone who doesn't love you deepens that humiliation. Look at me now. I’ve grown. I can curse Vanessa in my heart while running over with a surprised look to give her a dramatic hug. The client hadn't gone far. I needed him to see clearly that I was good friends with the heiress of the Wen family. Vanessa hugged me back, even though I knew she was rolling her eyes internally. "Ash said in the group chat that you guys got back together. I'm so happy! I missed you so much, Elena!" She gave me an exaggerated air kiss, ignoring Asher's confused look. I used to hate that they had a separate group chat for their inner circle. Asher wouldn't add me. He replied to them faster than me. They talked about things I couldn't join in on. Now, I had learned the wisdom of not caring. "Oh, I was so immature back then, no sense of boundaries. I was too embarrassed to find you later. Bestie, you don't blame me, right?" I held her hand falsely, acting like we were the best of friends. "How could I! When Auntie was looking for a fiancée for Ash, she asked me to check them out. I looked at everyone, and I still think you're the best." Vanessa always spoke with hidden meanings. In one casual sentence, she told me she had status in the Sterling family and that after we broke up, Asher was indeed looking for a marriage partner. "I don't have a marriage partner, and I haven't met anyone." Asher had grown too. He deigned to explain. He pushed the freshly served ice cream toward me. Vanessa took a spoonful first. "Vanilla! Better than my matcha." She squinted and smiled at Asher. Then, Asher handed the spoon he used to me. Pupil! Earthquake! With the Sterling family's massive wealth, could they not afford another ice cream? Did we have to share saliva? I used to love sharing food with Asher. Now, I attribute that to a lack of hygiene knowledge. The current me couldn't handle it. I pushed the ice cream back toward him, keeping my expression smooth. Declined. "Sorry, Ash. I can't eat cold things on my period." Asher waved for the waiter and ordered me a hot chocolate. "If I remember correctly, Elena is allergic to chocolate." Vanessa stopped him. Asher looked at me in shock, seeking confirmation. Even Vanessa knew. So, when we were dating, just how little did Asher care? Fortunately, I had learned expectation management. I no longer expected anything from him, so I couldn't be disappointed. 5 Leaving the tennis court, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. Liam. My best friend Sarah's favorite tennis player. I pulled out my phone, snapped two pics, and sent them to her. She immediately replied with a string of "AHHHH." I chatted and laughed. Asher leaned over to look at my screen. Instinctively, I switched apps. The corners of his mouth dropped. He radiated anger. Can't let the patron get mad. I took the initiative to hold his hand. "Sorry, after working, I'm not used to people looking at my phone. I didn't mean it." I learned that the person in the lower position can't throw tantrums. You have to be proactive, humble yourself, to maintain the balance of the relationship. After all, I was getting a lot out of him. It wasn't a loss. "Why don't you share these things with me anymore?" Asher interlaced his fingers with mine and looked down at me. I used to tell him everything. I saw a sunset, I got a smelly taxi, I petted a cute dog. When I loved him most, I had an overwhelming desire to share, even if his responses were sparse. I held his arm and shook it gently. "You're too busy with work. I don't want to bother you." Actually, I just didn't think of him. Asher touched my hair and said nothing. From that day on, he started texting me like he was possessed. When I was dining with a client, he sent a photo with two words: [Lunch.] ? A question mark popped up in my brain. Why send me this? The client was there; being on the phone was rude. Only after sending them off did I have time to reply. [Meat and veggies, looks great! ??] Driving, the phone buzzed again. [Social event tonight. Home late, around 11. Don't wait for me.] Asher added: [Hate these events.] Suppressing my annoyance, I replied. [Me too. Don't drink too much, take care of yourself ??] After our positions swapped, I finally realized— How annoying my frequent texting used to be. I quickly messaged my company's programmer to install an AI auto-reply assistant on my WeChat. Let AI replace me as the perfect girlfriend who replies instantly.
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