Chapter 1

When Samuel asked me to deliver ultra-thin condoms again, my mom saw it.

She paused and said, "I'll deliver it for you."

"I had you when I was forty. No amount of love is too much. I can't bear to see you wronged, so I'll deliver it for you."

At that moment, I decided to give up on Samuel.

Later, everyone was surprised I no longer revolved around Samuel. Some asked me why.

I stayed silent for a long time, only pressing my lips together.

"My mom would be heartbroken."

Samuel forgot to bring ultra-thins to his hotel room again.

By the time the message reached me, it was already eleven at night.

And I happened to be in the shower, so my mom saw the message.

When I came out, the air felt particularly stagnant.

The message on the phone on the coffee table was glaring.

[Mia likes strawberry-flavored ones. Get them to me within half an hour.]

My mom didn't know many words.

But he had sent a voice message.

Probably still resentful that I had stolen Mia's client last time, his message now was particularly explicit.

The air grew heavy. Mom hung her head, lost in thought.

After a long silence, she said to me:

"If this is the boy you like, then I'll deliver it for you."

"I had you when I was forty. No amount of love is too much. I can't bear to see you wronged, so I'll deliver it for you."

The light in the room was dim, but the white hair on her head was particularly conspicuous.

I started liking Samuel in high school.

I followed him to a university in Northbridge.

Later, I joined his family's company and got a high-paying job.

He treated me well—gave me birthday gifts, paid me a high salary. When I first started and got bullied during business negotiations, the person came to apologize to me the next day.

Some people were jealous and made snide remarks to my face: "Connections sure make a difference. Someone's going to be Mrs. Samuel."

I half believed it myself.

Many people came and went around him. When he needed something, I'd deliver things to him. When he didn't, I'd take money and handle everything for him one by one.

Only Mia lasted the longest.

Samuel liked her so much he wanted to marry her.

Following him all these years, I'd suffered plenty.

But at this moment, I suddenly felt it was all rather pointless.

"I've decided to give up on him," I told my mom.

As I said this, I blocked Samuel.

His call came through the next second.

His tone was particularly casual: "What's this about? If you're going to throw a tantrum, now's not the time. I need these right now."

"Oh, and when you come, apologize to Mia in person."

The apology was because I had closed a big deal, but Mia claimed that was her client.

The girl cried, and Samuel lost all reason.

He docked two months of my salary, fired my entire department, and transferred me to a different position.

Six months of hard work on my project went down the drain.

When I confronted him about it, he laughed lightly.

"You got your job through connections anyway. What's there to regret?"

"As for those people, what good projects could they do following you? If they had real talent, they wouldn't be working on your projects."

It had been several days, but thinking about it still left me breathless, my heart twisting in pain.

Humiliating and mortifying.

I lowered my eyes and replied: "I won't apologize to her. If she's really that upset, just fire me."

He was silent for a moment on the other end, then laughed casually, displeasure evident in his tone.

"Fine, as long as you can let it go."

I didn't know if he meant the job or him.

I'd been chasing after Samuel for ten years.

Anyone with eyes could see I liked him desperately.

He was a transfer student who came back from Northbridge in our senior year of high school. Northbridge didn't allow day students to take the college entrance exam, so he returned.

Elegant, distinguished.

That was everyone's first impression of him.

That year was also when I was at my most pathetic.

My face was covered in acne. I was withdrawn and unlikeable. My family was poor, and we rented a dark apartment where the laundry never saw sunlight. My clothes always had a fishy smell, and no one in class liked me.

But he volunteered to be my deskmate.

Perhaps out of pity or sympathy, he would always help me with problems I couldn't figure out no matter how hard I tried, then say: "I think you're really smart."

When people gossiped about me, he would hand me an earbud. It wasn't music playing—it was a niche radio program where a comedy performer was saying in a shocking voice: "People like that deserve to be struck by lightning! Don't you all just die!"

He would also load two thousand dollars onto my meal card when I was chugging cold water to save five dollars on food. Then he'd say casually: "It's just the price of one outfit for me. Pay me back when you're earning money."

At first, I was anxious and uneasy. I felt I didn't deserve this kindness.

Later, I comforted myself that perhaps my luck had been so terrible, so bad, that fate arranged for Samuel to save me.

After that, we talked about everything.