"This is ’broken heart syndrome’," Qiu Zhi started showing off the new term he had learned from his computer. He spoke with an authoritative expert’s tone: "Just like me, you’ve had your heart broken."
"You... What broken heart?!" Su Ziceng gripped her empty wine glass so tightly it creaked.
"Hang Yishao and Chang Chi are now openly a couple, yet you still won’t admit you’ve been dumped, Ziceng. Face the reality, we are truly good friends, even united by our shared heartbreak." Qiu Zhi, as if fearing Su Ziceng would not concede, was keen to bind them together, happy only when they were tied up like a pair of grasshoppers.
Su Ziceng didn’t know what to say. She had liked Hang Yishao for so many years, but now, she had begun to doubt herself. After her rebirth, too many unexpected things had happened, Pello’s appearance, along with his considerate words and actions, would sway any normal woman.
But what was his real intention? One moment, he was sending flowers at the airport, and the next, he was arm-in-arm with Wen Maixue. Why was every man she met like a puddle of murky water trampled by others? Su Ziceng no longer looked toward the Japanese restaurant opposite her.
Everybody seems to prefer the lighter flavor of Wen Maixue. Does nobody like the peculiar taste of Su Ziceng? It isn’t just a simple feeling of defeat, there’s also an indescribable bitterness mixed within it.
It seemed as though the spiciness of the curry had only kicked in now; Su Ziceng ordered another glass of water. But instead, a glass of lemon water was served. Sour and sharp, she gulped it down, intending to dilute the sadness welling up inside, but the more water she drank, the more uncontrollable her tears became.
"Fatty," Su Ziceng, in an attempt to mask her feelings, stuffed a spoonful of the spiciest curry into her mouth. Her eyes suspiciously reddened, "Am I really that terrible? So bad that no one even desires to take a glance at me?"
Qiu Zhi’s round face crumpled like a walnut, "Not that terrible. You’re just a little worse than Mai Mai, that still makes you the second best in Mo City." Indeed, over the past year, Su Ziceng’s rise had been more rapid than anyone else’s.
However, Qiu Zhi’s analysis wasn’t entirely fair. He compared Wen Maixue’s five or six years of accumulated reputation to Su Ziceng’s current momentum, which was no doubt a comparison between a giant and a dwarf.
"I refuse to be the eternal runner-up," Su Ziceng puffed up with indignation. Upon reflection, and taking it in stride, it was progress, "I want to be a renowned woman."
"A renowned woman?" Qiu Zhi thought Su Ziceng must have had too much curry, her tongue and brain scorched spicy. "Do you even know what ’renowned woman’ means?"
"Yes, domestically there’s Yang Lan, internationally there’s Deng Wen Di or Carine Roitfeld," Qiu Zhi racked his brains for examples.
"Forget those for now, my current goal is to match up to Wen Zimu." Su Ziceng’s mind wasn’t muddled by those inexplicable emotions yet. Since it wouldn’t be easy to start with Pello, she decided to take a detour and ask Qiu Zhi – given the Qiu Family’s close ties to the Wen family, it shouldn’t be too hard to uncover some inside information.
"You! You know about the Wen family’s eldest daughter? Who told you?" Qiu Zhi’s congenial Maitreya Buddha-like demeanor disappeared, instantly replaced by a scowl as if Su Ziceng had leaked top national secrets.
"Wen Maixue said it herself," Su Ziceng recounted everything that happened in class today and the "renowned woman" plan at Kelly Women’s College.
After hearing all this, Qiu Zhi’s expression changed; he was like a candle slowly extinguishing, until at last, not even a smile could stay alight.
"So Mai Mai had such intentions, I... still can’t keep up with her pace," Qiu Zhi’s hands, smoother than a woman’s, clenched tight, forming a bulging mound of flesh.
"Why follow her footsteps? You’re meant to be the ’God of Stocks’ of Z country, don’t sell yourself short," Su Ziceng sneered, her fingertips gliding over the cuff of Qiu Zhi’s sleeve, "That ’Green Love’ isn’t just for show, is it."
"Ziceng!" Qiu Zhi’s voice rose eight octaves, "You truly are my confidante, the only one who believes I’ll make something of myself." Qiu Zhi’s face puffed up like a fully inflated red balloon, as if it might burst any second.
"Just remember to share half of your earnings with me when the time comes," Su Ziceng waved her hand, rescuing her fingers from that meaty clump.
A jolt ran through Qiu Zhi’s head at the mention of ’sharing half’; it dawned on him that Ziceng had been hinting at something. The person legally entitled to half of someone else’s wealth is their spouse. Gazing at Su Ziceng, her face alternating between red and pale from the spicy food, a warmth filled his heart. He spoke with emphasis, "Ziceng, rest assured, I will never let down your expectations."