Yang Ruxuan squeezed the thickness of the envelope and, based on her experience, judged it to be about ten thousand yuan.
She would never have even glanced at such a price before; a random bag would cost several times that amount.
But now, this money is her lifeline.
She should have refused, thrown the envelope back, and walked away haughtily.
Just like she vowed to do on the first day of her rebirth.
But she didn't.
She never wanted to live those days again.
"good."
Yang Ruxuan heard herself say "okay," and then stuffed the envelope into her bag.
They moved so quickly, as if afraid that if they hesitated even for a second, they would regret it.
At that moment, she clearly felt something shatter inside her.
That was the vow she made after her rebirth, a determination she believed to be unbreakable.
It turns out that falling into depravity is so easy; all it takes is an envelope and a few kind words.
Yang Ruxuan returned to her rented apartment.
She opened the envelope given to her by Young Master Zhao and poured a wad of banknotes onto the bed.
The pink banknotes looked particularly glaring in the dim light.
She should be happy.
With this money, she could pay off her overdue rent, buy some decent clothes, and stop eating those disgusting instant noodles.
But in reality, Yang Ruxuan only felt a deep emptiness and self-loathing.
She eventually went down the same old path, and although she changed her partner, the essence seemed to be no different.
They use their companionship and flattery to exchange for material enjoyment.
She picked up her phone and pulled out the number she had entered into her contacts—the number she had sworn never to contact again.
Mrs. Gu's personal assistant.
She won't hit him, absolutely not!
*
Meanwhile, at the Gu residence atop the mountain, Gu Yanqing stood before his easel, the canvas depicting the figure of a girl standing in the rain.
The rain soaked her hair and clothes, but the cake box in her arms remained dry and intact, which she held tightly to her chest.
In the lower right corner of the painting, more and more hearts are being drawn.
Gu Yanqing tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought.
Then he picked up a red paintbrush and added something sparkly to the girl's hand.
It was a bag of gold coins.
After finishing his painting and resting for a while, he stood in front of the new easel.
On the canvas, the figure of a woman in a moon-white cheongsam is beginning to take shape.
The cheongsam was embroidered with sparse orchids, and the collar was adorned with a pearl button.
That was Qin Zixi, but it wasn't the Qin Zixi who delivered takeout on ordinary days.
In the painting, she has her hair loosely tied up, revealing a section of her fair neck, and her eyes and brows exude a gentle and serene beauty that he has never seen before.
When Gu Yanqing put pen to paper, her wrist was incredibly steady, and the tip of the pen landed precisely on the dark part of the cheongsam, layering out the folds and luster of the fabric.
As he finished the last stroke, he took two steps back and tilted his head slightly to examine the painting.
A moment later, he began to draw himself.
This time he drew very quickly, almost without thinking.
With just a few strokes, the profile of a young man leaps off the page. He stands half a step behind Zi Xi, who is wearing a cheongsam, his gaze fixed on the tips of her hair, his posture respectful and restrained.
He looked like a young butler standing behind the young lady.
After finishing the last stroke, Gu Yanqing put down his paintbrush and carefully wiped the handle of each brush with turpentine.
He walked to the corner of the wall, where a finished and dried painting leaned against the wall.
The painting also depicts Zi Xi wearing a cheongsam, but this time it's a deep purple one. She sits by the window reading, her profile serene.
Gu Yanqing leaned down and gently pressed her cheek against the sleeve of the person in the painting.
With his eyes closed, he suddenly smiled.
The laughter was soft, echoing in the empty studio.
Gu Yanqing maintained this pose for a long time, until the setting sun bathed the studio in a warm gold light.
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