Julian was a notorious playboy. He treated every girlfriend well, giving them whatever they wanted. Except marriage. Everyone knew he broke up with his first love and was still hung up on her. He couldn't commit to anyone else. In the fifth month of our relationship, my family pressured me to settle down. So I said goodbye: "I heard your first love is coming back. Congrats." He smiled. "Yeah." That night, his friends threw him a "single again" party. It was a huge, lively event. Someone mentioned me: "Hey, Julian, I think I just saw Chloe. She was with a guy, pretty handsome." Everyone started gossiping. Julian suddenly exploded. He crushed his cigarette and sneered: "She's the one who wanted to be together, and she's the one who wanted to break up." "How can she have it so good?" Chapter 1 When I first started dating Julian, his friends placed bets. Big money on whether our relationship would last more than a month. He came from a prominent family and had quite a reputation. When I first met him, my roommate warned me: "The Vances run this city. You don't want to mess with them." "But this Julian Vance is different. I heard he's easy to pursue, never loses his temper with girls, and always breaks up amicably." It wasn't a lie. But between us, there really wasn't any "pursuing." I was a second-year grad student, working on a research project with my advisor. I needed an out-of-print English monograph that was impossible to find. I posted everywhere online with no luck. Just as I was giving up, someone replied. The tone was cynical yet earnest: [My old man seems to have it. Contact me if you want it. I'll do a good deed for once.] I contacted him immediately. To thank him, we met up a couple more times. We got along well. The last time, he stood under a streetlamp, handsome and dashing. Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow and asked: "Will we see each other again?" Would we see each other again, as the seasons changed, year after year? The moonlight was cold, the night beautiful. Saying "no" felt like a letdown. Something possessed me to smile and challenge him: "I heard you're easy to pursue. Is that true?" He looked at me, unable to stop smiling. "Why don't you try?" When you're young and naive, meeting someone so free-spirited and confident makes you want to get close. Besides, I had seen him long ago. I had just arrived in the city, my wallet was stolen at the station. Penniless, after filing a police report, I walked out into the rain, miserable and crying. He drove by, slowing down. "Where to? I'll give you a ride." Of course, I didn't dare get in. He was patient, coaxing me: "I'm not a bad guy. Trust me once. Stop crying, okay?" I always wanted to thank him, but we never crossed paths again. In a city of millions, meeting someone again is hard. Not long after that night, we were together. My roommate was shocked. "What's it like dating someone like him? Must be nice, right? But I heard he never dates anyone for more than two weeks." "Just enjoy it while it lasts." I said yeah, enjoy it while it lasts. People are naive sometimes. Back then, I thought love was just following your heart. When I liked him, I didn't care about his past. I just wanted a future with him. But later I found out, that's not how it works. Take that bet, for example. Julian never dated anyone for more than two weeks. So why did his rich friends bet on one month? Long after, I found out. The extra two weeks were because I looked 30% like his first love. Chapter 2 Most people lost that bet. Because, to everyone's surprise, Julian and I had a great relationship. Unlike his previous flings. He was unusually proactive, visiting me every day for lunch or dinner. Once when I was busy, he waited at the school gate for over half an hour. I felt bad and offered to treat him to a nice meal, but he tugged my sleeve, suppressing a laugh: "Your boyfriend wants to eat at the cafeteria." He paused, then asked: "Is that okay?" I knew he didn't want me running around. I had heard that back in school, the young master was too posh for cafeteria food. We didn't break up. Our relationship was surprisingly good. In our third month, he moved near my campus. We spent more time together. He set up a home theater, and we'd curl up on the sofa watching movies. He wasn't really interested, but I was. He watched patiently from beginning to end. For movies I loved, he'd take notes and write reviews seriously. His grandfather was a famous painter, and Julian had learned a thing or two. He was quite talented. During those days, he occasionally painted me. One painting stuck with me—a girl standing under a camphor tree, holding a stack of books, with delicate features and a bright smile. I always wanted to ask him: when we first met, I was shy. Did I really smile that brightly? Later, late one night. It was our first time. I hit a snag in my research. He patiently guided me through it, tapping my waist lightly, relaxed. "Understand now?" I had an epiphany and hugged him in delight. His gaze darkened. He pressed forward, lips moving, his touch cold. He was nervous, but acted nonchalant, gripping my hand. "Chloe." "Mm." Halfway through, his voice low, he mentioned the painting: "When we first met, and you stood there, I really wanted to paint you." I laughed, kissing his neck, teasing: "Do you say that to all your girlfriends?" Whispering sweet nothings in the heat of passion, reminiscing about first meetings. He tsked, pressing against me. "Go ask around. Who else have I gotten this far with?" The ambiguity flowed silently. Eventually, I stopped laughing and cried softly in his arms. September in the North is beautiful. Social media was full of videos of tourists praying at temples. I pestered him to go with me. He pulled several all-nighters to clear his schedule for a day. On the winding mountain path, he held my hand up hundreds of steps, watching my every move, afraid I'd trip. But after leaving him, I thought: who goes through life without tripping? Back then, I really liked him. Chapter 3 When did things start to change? Probably when I saw that photo. It was the fifth month of our relationship. Julian had many friends, and they were all geared up to celebrate his birthday. Preparations started weeks in advance. I was on break, so I helped out. Spending time with them, they didn't hide their conversations from me. Slowly, I learned that Julian had been serious about love once. He earnestly proposed, picked rings, chose a venue. But in the end, over a small matter, the girl felt he didn't love her enough. After a big fight, one left in anger, the other didn't chase. They broke up. They almost got married. Finally, someone showed me a photo, bluntly: "Speaking of which, you look a bit like Sophie. That's why we started the betting pool." In the photo, Sophie smiled brightly. So similar to the girl under the camphor tree in the painting. When I first heard about the bet, I thought they were bored. Now, I realized the fool was me. Everyone knew he broke up with his first love and was still unwilling to let go. He followed her updates. Every year on her birthday, he sent expensive jewelry across the ocean. If she had any trouble, someone would tell him, and no matter what, he'd go and quietly fix it. Without her knowing, without contact, but never letting go. Only I naively thought I was different. Finally, someone laughed: "Since Sophie left, Julian has been dating, but we all guess he's doing it to force her back." Everyone laughed. Julian returned from his call, sat next to me, squeezed my hand, and chuckled: "What are you talking about? So happy." I looked at him, heart cold, and said woodenly: "Talking about your first love." He froze. He rarely zoned out. In the end, he didn't say her name, just said lightly: "What's there to talk about?" This was the first time I thought about breaking up. I should thank his friends for not keeping me in the dark. Because they didn't care about my feelings, they told me the truth, allowing me to wake up and see the situation clearly. To understand that I was just a passerby in Julian's life, a tool to love another. Chapter 4 After that day, I felt a subtle shift between Julian and me. But neither of us mentioned Sophie. He didn't try to explain anything. He became more generous with me. He took me to auctions. If I glanced at something, it would soon be delivered to me. I forgot who said it. Julian treated every ex well, never stingy during breakups. Whatever they wanted, he gave, be it money or resources. It felt like a transaction. The night before his birthday, he sent me two transfer contracts. A villa and a car. My fingertips were cold when I received them. Shaking, I called him. He answered quickly. I pretended to be casual. "Sending such big gifts for your birthday, aren't you losing out?" "Losing what? I like you, I want to treat you well," he replied, voice lifting with a smile. Like a lover's teasing. I pinched my palm, forcing myself to be calm. "These are too expensive. Almost like a dowry." He was silent for a long time. I pursed my lips, tears falling silently. Finally, his voice paused, then he said nonchalantly: "Chloe. "Don't overthink it. Sleep early. I'll pick you up tomorrow night." Should I believe him? That he did this because he liked me, not because he wanted to break up.
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