At twenty-seven, my family started pressuring me to get married. I initiated a clean, cliff-drop breakup with the boyfriend I had been chasing and coddling for three years, and headed back to my hometown for blind dates. My friend asked me, "Are you really over Liam? You liked him so much." I let out a scoff. "I'm not stupid. A guy like him is fine for a casual fling, but if I actually married him, wouldn't I be miserable for the rest of my life?" Suddenly, a dark, familiar voice came from right behind me. "Oh, so is that your excuse for dumping me?" 01 When I dragged my suitcase home, I bumped right into a girl opening my front door to leave. She was wearing a loose black sweater that slipped off one shoulder to reveal delicate collarbones, an oversized-shirt-as-a-dress look, and a pair of Yves Saint Laurent stiletto heels. I recognized her. Her name was Chloe, the bassist in Liam's band. A pretty girl in her early twenties. Instinctively, I stopped behind the hallway door, staying out of sight. A moment later, Liam walked out from behind her, wearing only a pair of jeans, leaning lazily against the wall to light a cigarette. He was shirtless, water still dripping down the sharp v-lines of his lower abs. After a few seconds, he casually tossed a Chanel handbag her way. "Take it." Chloe's eyes lit up. She turned and threw herself at Liam, squealing: "Ah! I've wanted this bag for so long! Where did you get it?" "Picked it up on a trip to New York." "I love it so much, thank you, baby!" Chloe wanted to linger, but Liam was already getting impatient, his brow furrowing slightly. "Alright, hurry up and go." The girl slid off him, half-pouting, half-flirting: "You're so ruthless. Calling me 'baby' a second ago, and now kicking me out just like that." But she wasn't actually mad. She happily slung the bag over her shoulder and blew Liam a kiss: "I'm going. See you tomorrow." After she left, I stepped out from behind the door. Liam clearly didn't expect me to come back so suddenly. He froze for a second, but his expression instantly returned to normal. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?" I stared at him for a moment. "It was too late. I didn't want to wake you." The hickeys on Liam's neck were still fresh, but he didn't look guilty at all. He pulled me into his arms and led me into the apartment. "I'm starving, make us something to eat." He sat on the couch and turned on the TV, acting as if absolutely nothing had just happened. Seeing that I hadn't moved for a while, he frowned: "What's wrong?" Then, as if realization dawned on him, a lazy, arrogant smile floated into his eyes: "Missed me?" He got up, walked over, and hugged me from behind. His hot breath hovered ambiguously over my neck, and his hand slowly slipped under the hem of my shirt. "Then let's eat you first, and dinner later—" Years of playing the guitar had left rough calluses on his fingertips, bringing a prickly, itchy sensation as they scraped across my skin. I closed my eyes, exhausted, and pushed his hands away. I really liked Liam's body. The main reason I pursued him back then was because he was so incredibly hot. But maybe it was because I just got off a long flight, or maybe it was because of the girl who just left. Right now, I only felt tired. I wasn't in the mood at all. Liam was rarely rejected by me. He paused, his face darkening slightly. "What's the matter?" I looked down at a crumpled black mass on the rug. It was a pair of severely torn pantyhose. Liam clearly saw the pantyhose too. He clicked his tongue, his expression turning ugly. The living room fell into an agonizing silence. He pulled a cigarette from its pack and lit it. The crisp pop of the menthol bead being crushed echoed in the quiet room. "Her lease ended and she didn't have anywhere to go, so I let her crash here for the night." "There's nothing going on between us." I looked at Liam. Our intersecting gazes were blocked by the white smoke, blurring each other's expressions. But we both knew how incredibly lame that excuse was. This wasn't Liam's first time cheating. He was probably born a player. That's exactly how he was the first time I met him. Back then, my best friend dragged me to see a relatively well-known indie rock band, claiming the lead singer was insanely hot and tickets were hard to get. I've never been interested in rock music, so I wasn't feeling it. Until Liam walked on stage. He kept his head down, tuning his guitar. He hadn't put gel in his dark hair, allowing the loose strands to brush across his pale forehead, occasionally revealing thin, flushed eyelids. He was dressed the most casually of anyone on stage—just a simple black t-shirt and jeans—yet he instantly became the center of attention. That face was the most expensive luxury item in the room. He raised his eyes, the hazy stage lights reflecting in his amber pupils, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible smile. That was my first time at a band gig. My friend who brought me, and all the girls in the crowd, went completely crazy. Their screams practically blew the roof off. His gaze swept over the chaotic crowd, and for a split second, our eyes locked, before he quickly looked away. He sang beautifully that night, but I couldn't hear a single lyric. Because in that moment, everything else went dead silent. All I could hear was the deafening roar of my own heartbeat. After the set, countless girls swarmed backstage to get his number, and I was one of them. Being single for my entire 23 years of life, that was probably the bravest thing I had ever done. Liam didn't turn anyone away. He let every girl who asked scan his Snapchat QR code that night, including me. A year later, all the crazy groupies and butterflies chasing him had given up and faded away. I was the only one who kept persisting. I don't know if it was out of pity, being moved by my dedication, or what, but Liam silently accepted our relationship. I became his girlfriend, right up until today. But I knew that throughout all our years together, Liam had never truly liked me. Or rather, he liked me, but he liked that I was understanding, generous, and never caused drama. I caught him cheating many times, but as long as he gave me a half-decent excuse, I would forgive him. He told me many times that I wasn't his type, and that he was only with me because I treated him well. He even joked that the day he found true love, he would dump me. The only reason our relationship had survived this long was solely because I was willing to compromise and swallow my pride. "You promised me you wouldn't cheat again." My voice was low, my eyes fixed on the torn Balenciaga logo pantyhose on the floor. A flash of mockery crossed Liam's eyes, without the slightest intention of comforting me. "I was just messing around, and you actually believed it?" He smirked, leaning in close, blowing the menthol-scented smoke right into my face. His features were filled with pure malice: "Can't handle it?" "If you can't handle it, we can break up." He had said that to me countless times before. Every time, it ended with me hugging him, begging him not to leave. Over time, he learned exactly how to control me. He knew that once he said those words, I would cave. I turned my head away. "I'm tired. I'm going to get some rest." Liam grabbed my wrist. He had a strong brow bone, and when his face was expressionless, it always gave off an oppressive, intimidating pressure. "Maya, don't push it." I shook off his hand and went into the bedroom. Not long after, I heard the deafening slam of the front door. Liam left. He was mad, I knew that. After all, throughout our entire relationship, I was always the one coddling him, chasing after him. I had never given him attitude like this before. I rolled over and opened my phone. In the family group chat, my mom sent a text tagging me. "I've never pressured you before, but you're 27 this year. It's about time you start thinking about marriage." "My coworker's son has a great background, and I think he's handsome. You should come back home during your vacation and meet him." I opened a message from my boss. "Maya, the new branch office is desperately short-staffed right now. Honestly, keeping someone with your skills as a deputy manager here is a waste of your talent. Are you interested in going to the branch office as the General Manager? Starting a new operation will definitely be challenging, so think it over." My mom was calling me home for blind dates. The company just opened a new branch in my hometown city. Right place, right time. It seemed I truly had no reason to stay here anymore. I sighed. Honestly, I really did like Liam. He was handsome enough, his body was great, and we were incredibly compatible in bed. Most importantly, he was a massive player. Being with him was easy because I didn't have to think about holding him accountable, and I didn't have to worry about our future. When I first started working, I was so exhausted I couldn't see straight. I desperately wanted to find someone to vent my stress with. But I'm just average-looking, yet I'm hopelessly obsessed with good looks. I looked everywhere but couldn't find anyone I actually wanted, until I met Liam. He spent his best years with me, and when I was physically and mentally drained from my career, his body helped me relieve a lot of stress. And even though his relationships with women were messy, he was relatively careful in that regard. Before we got together, I heard he required any woman he slept with to show a clean STD panel from within the last three days. I always used protection, so I wasn't afraid of catching anything. If I wanted to find another man this perfectly suited to my needs in the future, it would probably be difficult. But there was nothing I could do. Dating was one thing, settling down and getting married was another. I liked Liam a lot. But I also knew perfectly well that he wasn't marriage material. Now, it was time for me to make a choice. 02 Liam didn't come home that night. He didn't show up for the next few days either. He didn't answer my texts or my calls. When I tried texting him again, a red exclamation point popped up. He had blocked me. His usual, practiced silent treatment. This had happened a few times before. Liam was a master at the cold war. Every time, I had to swallow my pride and coax him for a long time before he would give me the time of day. Except this time, I was busy handing over my work responsibilities and didn't have time to coax him. That night, as I was buying a plane ticket back to my hometown, my phone suddenly rang. It was one of Liam's friends. The background was loud—men and women laughing and shouting, the music so blaring it was annoying even through the phone. "Maya, Liam had too much to drink. Can you come pick him up?" Liam loved hitting the clubs. His family was loaded; the band was just a hobby. He didn't rely on it for money. I asked him once why he didn't join the family business. He sneered, saying that his dad's illegitimate kids were already tearing each other's throats out over that little bit of money, and he had no interest in fighting over scraps. Anyway, whatever his grandfather and his mom owned would be left to him. He wasn't hurting for cash, so he was just going to spend his life doing whatever he wanted. Liam had absolutely no career ambition. On that front, we had zero common ground. Every time I landed a new project at the company or got a promotion, he always looked completely disinterested when I told him. He once scoffed that working yourself to death for a standard monthly salary was pointless; it wasn't even enough to cover the bottle service he bought in one night at the club. I knew that deep down, we weren't the same kind of people. Aside from physical compatibility, we had nothing to talk about. I didn't care about his soul, I only liked his body. He ignored my inner thoughts and was just used to me being compliant. That worked out fine. When we separated like this, neither of us would be sad. I thought about it and said okay. I hung up the phone and looked out the window. The city at night seemed even more magnificent than during the day. Millions of lights from homes and the endless stream of traffic blended together, drowning out the light of every star in the sky. I glanced at my plane ticket: 8:00 AM the day after tomorrow. I sighed. Actually, I didn't want to break up this quickly. Liam and I were really great in bed. The pressure of switching companies these past few days had been huge, and I originally wanted to have breakup sex with him. I smacked my lips, feeling it was a bit of a waste. But since the opportunity had presented itself, there was nothing I could do. ... When I got to the club, Liam was surrounded by a group of girls. All different types, all shapes and sizes. Their common trait was that they were all gorgeous. Even heavy makeup couldn't hide the youthful collagen in their faces; they all looked very young. It was no wonder girls liked him. Liam's family was rich, he was generous with his money, and he was incredibly handsome. Even his player reputation somehow added to his charm. I touched my own face, remembering the insulting things Liam had said to me before. "You're 27. You need to go get some facials and treatments. Put some effort into your appearance, okay?" No wonder he found me repulsive. Turns out he was surrounded by girls in their early twenties. I didn't say anything, just stood outside the crowd. My eyes met Liam's. But he acted as if he hadn't seen me, quickly looking away. Chloe's face was flushed red. She pressed herself tightly against him, her voice sticky: "Liam, have one more drink." Liam smiled. Under the club lights, the corners of his eyes curved up. He looked stunning, but there wasn't a trace of warmth in his expression. "Drinking like this is boring. Why don't you feed it to me?" "How?" Liam didn't answer, just looked down at her. Half a second later, Chloe understood. A flash of delight crossed her eyes. She tilted her head back and downed the caramel-colored whiskey in her glass! Then, Liam suddenly hooked her chin and kissed her fiercely. There was no tenderness in his kiss; it seemed purely to vent his emotions. Chloe tilted her head back to accept it, the corners of her eyes gradually growing damp from the lack of oxygen. Liquor spilled from the corners of their mouths, catching the hazy colors of the club lights. It wasn't until a long time later, when they separated, that a long, silver trail of saliva connected them. The atmosphere around them instantly exploded. Everyone was screaming and cheering. I knew he did it on purpose. He was punishing me. Punishing me for giving him attitude the other day, and for not immediately coaxing him afterward. It wasn't until I walked right up to Liam that everyone else finally noticed me and gradually went quiet. Liam looked up, his face indifferent: "What are you doing here?" I looked at his face, vaguely recalling the days when we were inseparable. When the passion was high, we had even spoken of love. Did it hurt? I suppose a little. But it didn't hurt that much, because I had known for a long time exactly what kind of person Liam was. He was a player, endlessly chasing thrills, incapable of saying no. He was selfish. Probably because he was spoiled growing up, always putting himself first and never considering anyone else's feelings. My voice trembled as I said: "Liam, you've gone too far." Liam looked up at me. Even though he was sitting and I was standing, I felt as if he was the one looking down on me. He still had that indifferent expression, wearing a contemptuous smile. "Too far? You can always break up with me. No one's stopping you." I didn't say a word, just stared at him. I couldn't count how many times he had used breaking up to threaten me. Fifty times? A hundred times? Even the friends around us felt he went too far. After all, they had all seen how dedicated I had been to him over the years. One of them whispered to him: "Liam, stop fighting with Maya. Look at her, she's about to cry." In fact, I was crying. If you're going to put on an act, you have to go all the way. The moment that tear hit the floor, I clearly saw Liam's expression change. The fingers holding his cigarette twitched. Yet, he still didn't say anything, just watched me coldly. The next second, I said softly: "Okay, Liam." "Let's break up then." Liam's face instantly turned incredibly ugly. For a moment, I almost thought he was going to attack me! But instead of getting angry, he laughed. But no matter how you looked at it, the laugh seemed forced through gritted teeth. "You're acting tough now, Maya. Fine. Just remember, I never go back to my exes." "When the time comes, don't come crawling back to me like a dog begging." "Okay." I nodded, wiping the tear from my eye. Then I turned and left, without ever looking back at him. Liam didn't come home that night. I stayed up deleting Liam's contact info and everything related to him, and packed my bags. Early the next morning, I took the first flight back to my hometown. As the plane broke through the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and tossed it into the vomit bag. 03 I never contacted Liam again. I posted a few late-night, emo captions on Instagram to solidify my "heartbroken" persona, and then cleanly wiped him from my mind. Life back in my hometown fell into a routine. I quickly adapted to the operations at the new branch office, and started meeting the guys my parents set me up with. The guy sitting across from me—a 28-year-old mid-level manager who was already starting to go bald—was rambling endlessly: "I think women should focus on the family after marriage. What I mean is, after we get married, you shouldn't work anymore. You shouldn't be so career-oriented. Take good care of the house. Behind every successful man, there should be a woman..." He kept blabbering on. I smiled, looking at the coffee cup in my hand, thinking to myself: Hold it in. Do not dump this over his stupid pig head. When he finally finished, he looked at me: "Did you clearly understand everything I just said? Do you have anything to add?" I maintained my smile: "No. But Mr. Smith, I don't think we're a very good match. Let's just not see each other again." Then, amidst his rambling about how "women over 25 lose their value, why are you being so picky, old woman," I turned and walked away. I had been back in my hometown for quite a few days now, and my mom had set me up on quite a few blind dates. Actually, some of them were pretty decent catches. But having experienced the absolute best, dealing with guys like Liam, I really couldn't force myself to accept these average dudes. This mood carried over until my morning meeting at work. Everyone had arrived early, sitting silently around the conference table. The atmosphere was serious. I quietly asked the VP next to me: "What's going on? Did something happen to the company?" The VP leaned in close to my ear: "The old Chairman's son just parachuted in. Word is he's using our branch as practice, and later he's going to take over the entire corporation." "I heard the new young CEO graduated from Harvard. After graduation, he spent a few years at Goldman Sachs. Then he started his own finance firm and made billions overnight. If the old Chairman hadn't spent years threatening and bribing him, he never would have come back. He is absolutely ruthless, so be incredibly careful when you talk to him!" A moment later, a young man wearing a black suit walked in. An overcoat was draped over his shoulders. The moment he stepped into the office, someone behind him respectfully took his coat, and his leather shoes came to a halt. I looked up. It wasn't just me; in that instant, everyone's gaze was captured by him. The first thing that intimidated you was the aura emanating from this man. It was the aura of someone used to being at the very top, accustomed to absolute control. He didn't even have an arrogant expression, but everyone in the room, including me, felt an irresistible urge to bow our heads, not daring to meet his eyes. Only upon the second glance did I clearly see his exceptionally bright eyes. His black hair was slicked back with gel, revealing prominent brow bones. I had heard that the Chairman's wife was French. The elegance of blonde hair and blue eyes, combined with the grace of Eastern beauty, merged perfectly within him. A classic Western bone structure with Eastern features. This man was incredibly handsome, easily on par with Liam. But because his aura was so overpowering, people didn't notice his looks at first glance. "Apologies, my flight was delayed. I'm late." He started by admitting his fault, then sat at the head of the table and cut straight to the chase: "My name is Ethan Vance. From now on, I am the General Manager of this company. I have already reviewed the company's basic profiles and financial reports. Now, starting with the VP, everyone will give a basic report on the business results of the past year and the projects you are currently handling." The department heads stood up one by one, trembling as they gave their reports. The new young CEO, Ethan, was indeed the elite the rumors made him out to be. He pinpointed every single area where someone tried to gloss over the details. "I don't like vague rhetoric, and I don't like being played for a fool. I hope we can communicate effectively, but if my communication yields no results, I will consider other methods." He clearly didn't yell or physically attack anyone, but a layer of cold sweat broke out on everyone's backs. Even when I stood up, my palms were slick with a thin layer of sweat. Luckily, I was fully prepared, and my business results from the past year were quite excellent. The more I spoke, the more confident and fluent I became. My resume and my career were my pride, the most important things in my life. I would never cut corners on that front. CEO Vance didn't interrupt me. I saw a hint of admiration in his eyes. A moment later, I stopped and signaled that I was finished. He nodded: "Maya, right? Not bad." "From now on, all business reports should follow this standard." ... Ever since CEO Vance arrived, everyone's workload had increased significantly. He cleared out a lot of redundant tasks and toxic assets, and also secured many high-quality projects. Everyone was working longer overtime hours, but our salaries had also risen accordingly. My colleagues, especially the young female ones, were very interested in the new CEO. Two new young hires didn't know what got into their heads, but they actually tried pulling the "domineering CEO falls for the innocent girl" routine from romance novels. One openly argued with him during a meeting. The other "accidentally" spilled coffee on his three-thousand-dollar shirt and tried to wipe it off with her hands. The first one was fired the very next day. The second one was fired that exact same day. The female colleagues finally behaved themselves. However, during breaks, they would still gather in the pantry to gossip about him. "I heard he's never had a girlfriend before. Do you think he's still a virgin?!" "How is that possible? You watch too much TV. A guy with his qualifications has tons of women eyeing him. There's no way he's a virgin." "Let me sleep with him for one night! I'd gladly give up a year's bonus. He's an absolute specimen. Did you guys see him when he wore dress pants the other day? My god, he is seriously packing!" ... Listening from the sidelines, I suddenly became interested. Without Liam around, this Ethan Vance seemed like an even better option. This man... I wanted to give him a try. 04 I started intentionally appearing in front of Ethan on a regular schedule. He arrived at work half an hour early every day. Three out of five days a week, I made sure to catch the same elevator as him. Usually, it was just the two of us in the elevator at that time. I didn't talk much. I just said hello, pressed the floor button for him, and stood quietly to the side. Then, like clockwork, I went to get a cup of coffee every day at noon. He usually got coffee around that time too. I made sure to run into him in the pantry every time, but I always left before he finished pouring his, making sure he noticed me. Occasionally, I worked overtime, and he would walk past my desk when he left for the day. In short, I tried to appear in front of him as much as possible, while absolutely refusing to speak a single unnecessary word to him. Finally, on the 17th time he caught me working overtime, his footsteps paused, and he walked over to me. "I've noticed you working late a lot recently. Are you running into any issues?" I looked up, feigning surprise. After a moment of hesitation, I handed over the documents in my hands. "I just took over a new project, but there are some assets in this company whose risk levels I'm not certain about, so I just wanted to study it more carefully." Ethan naturally sat down in the empty seat next to me: "Let me take a look." He carried a faint, woody cologne scent. It mixed with the light rose perfume I wore, creating an indescribably intoxicating blend. "I think this project is viable. Look at their 2023 financial statements—the financial status is actually pretty good, and..." He spoke with ease and fluency. I sat beside him, nodding earnestly, occasionally asking highly specialized questions. After he answered each one, I would put on an expression of sudden realization. "So that's how it works. Thank you, Mr. Vance. I never thought of looking at it from that angle before." "Your professional skills are already quite strong; you just lack a bit of operational experience. Don't put too much pressure on yourself." "Go home early," he said, making a rare joke. "Don't let people think I'm some kind of black-hearted sweatshop boss, forcing employees to work overtime every day." I nodded, packed up my documents, and went downstairs with him. As we walked out the door, the wind blew raindrops onto me. I hesitated and took a step back. Ethan was about to leave, but seeing me stay put, he turned back and asked: "What's wrong?" I waved my hand: "It's nothing, Mr. Vance. You go ahead. I... I just remembered I have something else to do." He didn't ask further and nodded before leaving. Five minutes later, his car drove out of the underground parking garage. I was still standing at the entrance of the building. Ethan rolled down his window: "Did you not drive today?" I looked embarrassed: "Yeah. It's hard to get an Uber when it's raining. It's fine, Mr. Vance. I'll just wait a bit longer, one should show up soon." He spoke: "Get in. I'll give you a ride." ... I talked to Ethan quite a bit on the way. He was somewhat surprised to find that our interests aligned perfectly. Even my favorite niche indie film, The Holy Mountain, happened to be his favorite as well. Ethan's initially aloof demeanor gradually became more conversational. By the time we reached my house, he actually missed the brake and kept driving past it. I pursed my lips, just about to remind him, but he had already noticed. "My apologies, I wasn't looking at the GPS." After the car stopped, I thanked him again for giving me a ride home. Ethan just nodded. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back. "What is it, Mr. Vance?" I looked at him. "What perfume are you wearing? It smells nice." He seemed to regret the words as soon as they left his mouth, but saying anything else would only make it more awkward, so he simply lowered his head and stayed silent. I smiled inwardly: "Penhaligon's The Coveted Duchess Rose. Well then, Mr. Vance, see you tomorrow."
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