Ex-Girlfriend

The heiress could find someone else.

Summer mornings always came early. It was not even six, but the sky outside had already turned gray-white.

Bu Yao did not know when the power had come back on. Afraid the light would disturb Xing Yue, who was still fast asleep, she climbed out from under the covers and switched off the bedside lamp.

Xing Yue had not been in a good mood last night, and Bu Yao had not managed to find out why. Half-drunk, Xing Yue had kept stroking her tail until she fell asleep.

Xing Yue could not handle alcohol. Red blotches covered most of her neck, and her brows were still drawn together. She looked miserable.

Bu Yao touched Xing Yue's face, thinking of getting some ice from the fridge for her. But as soon as she got out of bed, she saw a bag on the floor. Its contents—ID cards, phone, makeup mirror—had spilled everywhere.

The power had been out last night, so she had not noticed.

She picked everything up, then studied the phone's shattered screen. It did not respond no matter how many times she pressed it. It was probably done for. She found two SIM cards in a small card holder.

It was not the weekend, and she did not know whether Xing Yue had work to deal with today. Leaving her phone off was no solution. Worried that Xing Yue's colleagues at the studio would be unable to reach her and her work would suffer, Bu Yao took the SIM cards and searched the room for a spare phone.

After a long search, she found one in the bottom compartment of the wardrobe. The paint had worn off its edges; it was probably one Xing Yue used to use. She put in the SIM cards and plugged it in.

When the phone turned on, the photo on its lock screen made her pause.

It showed a younger Xing Yue in a sleeveless top and a khaki pencil skirt, elegant and radiant. The girl in her arms wore a lace-up cotton-and-linen dress. Her smile was lively, and she looked lovely in white.

In the photo, Xing Yue held a cup of milk tea in the arm wrapped around the girl. The girl held a matching cup. The sleeves bore one English word each: "My" and "wife."

Jealousy rose in Bu Yao's chest at once. When she saw that the other girl was holding the "wife" cup, her expression turned downright gloomy.

Was this Xing Yue's ex-girlfriend? Xing Yue really did go for looks. Her girlfriend was so pretty.

They'd already broken up. Why was Xing Yue still using their photo as her lock screen?

Displeasure was written all over Bu Yao's face. She lifted Xing Yue's hand to unlock the phone with her fingerprint, then let go. She meant to open the gallery and pick any other photo to replace it.

But when she opened the gallery, she found twelve thousand photos. Everywhere she looked, there was that girl. Some were sorted into albums; others had been transferred over Bluetooth after Xing Yue changed phones. They spanned from year 32 to year 39 of the Li calendar. Xing Yue had been with this girl for seven years.

Bu Yao opened one at random. It was taken from above. From that angle, she could clearly see Xing Yue washing the feet of whoever held the phone. Xing Yue's brows and eyes were as graceful as distant mountains, her nose delicate, her familiar profile softened by a tender smile.

She had picked a photo at random, yet the sight hurt even more than the day Xing Yue asked her for a divorce. Her heart felt as though it were bleeding.

Xing Yue had scolded her to tears just for asking her to help put on her shoes. Yet she had washed another woman's feet.

Bu Yao's hand trembled. Whether from anger or something else, she could not tell. A ringtone suddenly sounded, startling her. Before she could react, the phone was snatched away.

Xing Yue's low, ragged breathing filled the room. She stared at the incoming call. When she saw an unfamiliar number, her eyes went blank for two seconds before she lay back down.

"Hello." Xing Yue answered and rubbed her temple with one hand. She had sat up too quickly, and her head felt ready to split open.

"Hello, is this Senior Xing Yue? I'm Jiang Li."

"Mm."

"I didn't mean to stand you up yesterday. A younger girl in my family suddenly fell ill, and I rushed her to the hospital. I left my phone behind. Senior Xing Yue, could you please give me a chance to apologize?"

Jiang Li sounded sincere, and a little anxious. She had probably tried to make peace with the studio and been turned down, which was why she had called Xing Yue. Xing Yue's head ached too badly for her to be in the mood, but she still answered politely. "All right. Come to the station this afternoon."

After ending the call, Xing Yue rang her assistant. "Check whether anyone in Miss Jiang's family was admitted to the hospital yesterday."

She stared blankly at the phone in her hand. After the call, the screen went dark on its own. She pressed the power button, and the lock screen lit up...

Xing Yue looked at it for a few seconds, then set the phone on the bedside table, pulled up the covers, and turned to the woman beside her. "Have fun?"

Her throat was dry and her voice raspy, but she sounded almost emotionless. Her reaction was nowhere near as strong as it had been when she heard the ringtone.

Bu Yao gripped the corner of the blanket, rubbing the little patch of fabric nearly threadbare. "You still can't get over that woman, can you? You held me while you slept last night!"

Xing Yue's expression remained as still as dead water. Bu Yao's accusation did not move her at all. She even turned onto her side at her leisure and propped her head on one hand. "What does one have to do with the other?"

She caught the ends of Bu Yao's hair and played with them. "Unhappy? Then leave me."

It had only been a few days since Bu Yao came back, and Xing Yue's life was already a mess. She would have been better off alone.

Bu Yao had not expected Xing Yue to admit it so bluntly, without even offering a word of comfort. They had been divorced for only ten years, and Xing Yue had spent seven of them dating another woman.

The blow was too much for Bu Yao. "Then why did you sleep with me?" she demanded.

"I was under a lot of pressure, and you happened to show up..."

Smack!

The slap that had missed Xing Yue's face yesterday landed squarely this time. Bu Yao put all her strength into it, swelling half of Xing Yue's face with a single blow.

That was not enough to vent her anger. She got out of bed and swept everything off Xing Yue's dressing table. "I'm here to relieve your stress? People pay for a prostitute. How much money do you have to give me? Could you even afford me?"

She paced back and forth over the same patch of floor, repeating the same movements. After ten years of illness, Xing Yue had pushed her into stereotyped behavior.

Xing Yue pulled the blanket higher and curled up beneath it. Her voice came out muffled. "Yes, yes... I can't afford to sleep with you. Go find someone else, Your Highness."

They had fought so fiercely that last night's intimacy seemed like an illusion.

After a while, the room fell silent. The stillness was frightening.

Xing Yue's eyes were bloodshot. She had clenched her hands so tightly that the nail on her index finger had split. Her face still hurt.

Good that she'd gone. Now I can have some peace. I can't mate with ordinary people, and I'm not good enough for the heiress. I should just stay single.

Just as Xing Yue tried to catch her breath, the blanket was yanked away. Dazzling light and a blaze of red hair filled her vision.

Bu Yao lunged toward her and leaned close. "Are you crying in secret, Xing Yue?"