After the breakup, my ex still wouldn't give up: [Let's meet offline.] [We must meet once before Winter Break, before Christmas.] [I know you have time.] Nursing a drunk head, I subconsciously replied: [Sorry, I don't reheat old pizza.] At the same time, a sentence popped up in the dialog box. [Your thesis requires more than just online comments to fix.] Holy cow! I scrambled to retract the message. The dialog box showed "Typing..." Pierce Sterling's message jumped into my eyes again: [Serena Ji, did you forget that I am still your thesis advisor?] I went completely numb. Chapter 1 At the class reunion today, I drank a bit too much. When I received Pierce's message, I really thought he was begging me to get back together. So much so that I forgot that the youngest Economics Professor at Harvard, my graduation thesis advisor, is actually my ex-boyfriend. My roommate Hannah leaned her head over and saw the lit-up phone screen. "Tsk, does Professor Sterling always speak so gently?" "Reading the first three sentences, I thought he was going to confess his love to you." "But that last sentence... hey hey, that's a death plot twist." Back then, Pierce and I were in a long-distance relationship, so no one had seen what my boyfriend looked like. I asked Hannah: "How do you guys usually reply to an advisor's text?" Hannah mimicked a serious tone: "Okay, Professor, please set a time." Fine. I followed Hannah's tone and replied to the message. Just as I was about to lift my wine glass to continue drinking, Hannah pressed my hand down. "I haven't finished yet. Is the reason you rejected Leo really because you can't forget your ex?" Leo is a first-year grad student senior at our school. Excellent grades, talented, and good-looking, but I gave him the "nice guy card" and rejected him. The female classmates were all very surprised. "Was your long-distance ex really that good?" I smiled, "Really too good. Old money family, top scholar, basically the standard male lead in a novel." Someone spoke too fast: "Then why did you break up?" I downed a mouthful of wine, "He died." My phone vibrated. The screen displayed Pierce's message. [Come over anytime, I'm always here.] Damn it, how did the corpse revive? Chapter 2 Pierce and I were childhood sweethearts. He is three years older than me. Since he was small, he was the most shining existence—winning Math Olympiad awards, skipping grades, studying abroad, everything was smooth sailing. The only obstacle in his life was probably me. I knew since I was small that Pierce and I had an engagement. Just as I became an adult, we naturally got together. Although it was long-distance, our feelings were very good. Until my junior year, when I was discovered to be the fake heiress. The true heiress was soon taken back home. I fell into the mud overnight. My biological father is a gambling addict. When my mother resisted his domestic violence, she was beaten by him into a vegetative state. He came out of prison and found my foster parents. He made a scene, saying that because they took the wrong child, they let me and him—flesh and blood—be separated for so many years. My foster parents gave him a sum of money and also pushed me out. The gambling addict took the money and went to the casino even more often, owing even more debt. Debt collectors would come to school to block me, forcing me to repay the money for him. My foster parents no longer cared about me, not even answering the phone. At that time, the only person standing by my side was Pierce. He paid my tuition, found a lawyer to handle my biological father's lawsuit, and helped me mediate between my foster parents. Gifts drifted across the sea, and punctual "love takeout" meals were delivered to my dorm, just to let me live a little better. When he returned to the country for the holidays, I hugged him and cried, asking him why he treated me so well. But he just kissed me: "Silly melon, if I don't treat you well, who else would I treat well?" "In another two years, when you graduate from university, we'll get married." I was naive back then. I always thought love could withstand ten thousand difficulties. Until Pierce's mother found me and told me the two families' engagement wouldn't change. Except, the bride was changed to the true heiress, Giselle Ji. She said: "Serena, I watched you grow up. You are smart and pretty." "In the past, I wouldn't have been willing to break you guys up." "But in our circle, marriage is an alliance of interests." "Pierce wants to return to the country soon to take over the company. I can't let people know he has you as a weakness, a handle for others to pinch." "Although you are not a Ji family person, the Ji family raised you for so many years. You should always do something for them." "So, Serena, think it over carefully." I called Pierce on a cross-ocean phone call. "Pierce, let's break up?" It was a question, not a statement. I thought, even if I wanted to break up, I should get his consent. In this unequal relationship, he paid more for me. It was me always dragging him down. I was very tired. I don't know, in his days in a foreign land, did he also feel tired in the silent late nights? Pierce's anger, which he couldn't cover, came from the other end of the phone. "Break up? Don't even think about it." Chapter 3 The next night, while I was packing my luggage in the apartment, Pierce came back. Having sat on a plane for over ten hours, his face looked terrible. "What did my mom say to you?" Tears blurred my eyes, and my voice was trembling. He looked me in the face. "Don't care what she said. Wait for me to graduate and return, and we will get married." I was stunned and opened my mouth: "The engagement is between the Sterling and Ji families. I am no longer..." "I don't care." Pierce interrupted me, his voice choking. "You are just you. I like you, I care about you, and I won't abandon you. Do you understand?" I didn't dare to speak. "Serena," he cupped my face, "Do you still love me?" I nodded. "That's good." He sighed in relief, "As long as you still love me, we won't separate, okay?" His kiss fell on the center of my brow. I choked out: "Okay." Can love withstand ten thousand difficulties? No, it can't. If it could, the world wouldn't have suffering. After that day, Pierce stayed in the country and accompanied me for a period of time. We lived together in an apartment near the school. We were like many ordinary couples, snuggled in a not-too-big, not-too-small nest. If there were no accidents, this kind of sweetness would have lasted a very long time. But an accident soon happened. My gambling addict father blocked me at the apartment door again, demanding money. To protect me, Pierce was stabbed by him. When he was lying in the hospital, Pierce's mother and my foster parents all arrived. My foster mother's slap hit my face heavily, and my ears buzzed. The eyes they looked at me with were contemptuous and disdainful. They also said many ugly words, so ugly that I don't want to recall them a bit. Just like the past twenty years, the love they poured on me disappeared in that instant. I couldn't stand it. If I were the only one bearing this, maybe it wouldn't be so painful. But, I was tightly bound by self-blame, guilt, and helplessness. Based on what right did I implicate Pierce lying in the hospital? Just because he loves me? Should the person who loves me be dragged into the mud by me to bear pain? I was tired, really very tired. So, when Pierce was sent to Philadelphia to continue treatment, I called him and broke up. This time, he had no way to sit on a plane for more than ten hours to rush over. My tears kept falling, crying until I couldn't speak words. Pierce nearly begged me: "Can you wait for me another year? Just one year, wait for me to graduate and return." "Can you wait for me again?" Wait another year, what would change? I wiped my tears. "Pierce." "I'm tired." He was silent for a very long time. Finally, he opened his mouth, his voice hoarse: "Based on what right do you get to give up first?" "What qualification do you have to give up on me first?" Even though we were finally speechless, neither of us could bear to hang up the phone. Until the phone battery ran out. Chapter 4 I drank the wine too fast, and I really couldn't handle it. Thinking about meeting Pierce, ten thousand emotions surged in my heart. I squatted by the side of the main road, crying continuously. Hannah passed me a tissue. "Sigh, if I knew earlier your ex died, I shouldn't have mentioned this tonight." My stomach was churning like overturning seas and rivers; I turned my head and vomited. Hannah patted my back, "I'll go to the nearby pharmacy to buy some hangover medicine for you." Actually, just after we broke up, Pierce sent me many messages. Gifts drifted across the sea, and holiday "love takeout" didn't miss a single one. Later I got annoyed and thought of a crude method. I posted an AI-synthesized intimate photo to Instagram, officially announcing a new relationship. He never sent me a message again. Even after Pierce became my advisor, we always communicated via email. I sent the thesis to him, he annotated it and sent it back to me. He looked down on me a bit. This was mainly embodied in the thesis comments he wrote to me: [Where is the innovation point of your thesis? Is this thing from Wish.com? Pieced together.] [Very niche sentence structure, makes zero sense.] [Did I teach you your modeling? Don't let people know you are my student, it's quite shameful.] [Rewrite everything according to comments.] Every word was written with dissatisfaction toward me. To meet him alone, I was scared in my heart. Taking advantage of no one being around, I opened my Reddit alter ego account and posted a message: [Help! Broke up with my ex-boyfriend, he should hate me quite a bit. But he is now my graduation thesis advisor, and I still have to take my broken thesis to meet him. What do I do? Online waiting, urgent.] Netizens' comments were various. [See, the person who hates you will find a thousand ways and a hundred plans to become your advisor, then abuse you to death.] [Is it sadistic deep love or a horror story? Only meeting him will tell. But I guess, high probability it's a horror story.] [As everyone knows, for undergraduate graduation theses, teachers choose students. He just intentionally chose you. Careful he doesn't delay your graduation. My words are put here.] [Wish you 99 (forever).] Does Pierce just hate me that much? Does he actually want to make me delay graduation by being my advisor? That's too vicious! An Anonymous User with a black avatar comforted me: [Don't listen to their nonsense. He just feels your thesis is written rottenly. Normal work process.] The thesis I wrote is rotten? Those nights I turned over JSTOR and stayed up, the hair lost modeling, the ten thousand words I wrote—are they really so rotten? I am, anyhow, a person who got a first-class scholarship. [Sister, I suggest you act spoiled, act cute, be an academic gold digger. Let your ex-boyfriend fix your thesis well for you, fix it to death. Best if later he publishes in an academic journal, he brings your name as author.] This idea actually wasn't bad; at least it wouldn't let me delay graduation. But recalling Pierce, that living monk who sits still and doesn't mess around... Even if I stripped and stood in front of him, he could put my clothes back on piece by piece. I was still staring at the phone screen in a daze when a car light shone on me. The person in the driver's seat opened the door, came down, and walked in front of me. A black coat set off his skin color very white. He just looked at me faintly but didn't open his mouth to speak. Light shone on him. He stood there, doing nothing, just very good-looking. I stood up, took one step, and hugged his waist. Then, with a fawning face, I looked up at him. "Pierce, it's you." "Quick, hug me."