Chapter 1: The Man on the Magazine Cover
Jiaqi never imagined she would see Meng Heping again in this lifetime—not in person, but staring back at her from the glossy cover of a magazine. She turned the page over and over, almost doubting her own eyes. His gaze, the familiar shape of his nose, even the tiny mole at the corner of his eye—so familiar, yet refined by time. Could this really be the same boy she once knew?
At lunch in the company cafeteria, she finally spoke.
“Do you think seeing your first love on a magazine cover feels like a TV drama?” she asked Zhou Jing’an.
Zhou Jing’an, with his mouth full of shredded pork and rice, nodded eagerly. “Exactly! Like an idol drama. Come on—who was your first love? Don’t tell me it was Wu Jianfei. Was it Pu Bajia? Song Xiaobo?”
Jiaqi scoffed. “How could a good man appear on a cover so quickly?”
Her words made Zhou Jing’an almost choke. He dropped his chopsticks. “You, Jiaqi! Don’t tell me your first love is someone cover-worthy. Who—Huang Xiaoming? Chen Kun?”
His voice rose a little too loudly, drawing glances. Jiaqi rolled her eyes and muttered, “Tony Leung Chiu-wai.”
Zhou Jing’an let out a long sigh. “So old.”
That afternoon, Jiaqi found herself unusually distracted. She confused Munich for Prague, misread a model as a print. Frustrated, she left her desk for tea.
As the Ceylon black curled with steam, she pulled out the magazine again.
It was definitely him. The same eyes, the same sharp cheekbones. Older, steadier, wealthier. Even the small mole at the corner of his eye remained. Once, she hadn’t thought him handsome—too tall, too thin, always hungry because no one cared for him at home. She remembered the first time she’d cooked fried rice for him; he ate three bowls without stopping.
The memory made her smile.
Suddenly, the magazine vanished from her hands. Zhou Jing’an leaned over, wide-eyed. “Is this your first love? Even better than Tony Leung!”
Jiaqi forced a laugh. “Don’t guess nonsense.”
But Zhou Jing’an wasn’t convinced. “If it were true, you’d have gone to see him long ago. You wouldn’t still be sitting here at work.”
Jiaqi didn’t answer. Her eyes drifted back to the magazine, counting the zeros after his net worth. She remembered her younger self saying, When we have money…
When we have money, we’ll buy a big house, she had said.
Meng Heping teased, When we have money, we’ll build one ourselves.
She’d pout, he’d laugh, and finally, he’d hold her close and promise, I’ll build the house, I’ll build the stove, and you’ll cook for me every day.
“You pig! You’re dreaming,” she had laughed.
Now, those dreams felt like someone else’s memories.
The past tugged at her relentlessly. That evening, after a long dinner with clients, she slipped into a quiet hallway lined with soft Southeast Asian lanterns. A woman sobbed softly in a corner, muttering, “Ruan Zhengdong, you’re going to regret this!”
Jiaqi quietly stepped aside.
Ruan Zhengdong simply lowered his head and struck a match. The flame glowed through his fingers, the same way Meng Heping’s once had. The resemblance startled Jiaqi.
When he noticed, he asked, “Do you smoke?”
His voice was deep and calm. She didn’t answer. Later, he sent white roses to her office—imported from the Netherlands. Zhou Jing’an could hardly contain her excitement.
“Ruan Zhengdong? Who is this man? And how much do these cost per stem?”
Jiaqi smiled faintly. “Anyone with enough means could do this.”
But in her heart, she reminded herself: Not necessarily a good man.
Guo Jin, her persistent colleague, didn’t think so either. He sneered, “I don’t know what he sees in her.”
Jiaqi wasn’t sure either. She wasn’t especially striking—fair skin, large eyes, but plain overall. Yet Ruan Zhengdong appeared just in time, whisking her away from Guo Jin’s persistence, showing up when she needed a distraction most.
Their dinners were lavish, the company lively, but Jiaqi felt none of it was serious. To her, Ruan Zhengdong’s attention seemed like a game more than genuine interest.
One night, a little tipsy, he drove her home quickly along the elevated highway. She clutched her seatbelt. “Let’s take a taxi. It wouldn’t be safe to drive after drinking.”
He glanced at her, eyes bright under the city lights. A slow smile curved his lips.
“Why? Don’t you want to take a little risk with me?”
He paused for a moment and said, softly, “I would like to escape everything with you… so that you don’t always look absent-minded when we’re together.”
Jiaqi was used to his teasing and didn’t bother replying. But he continued, talking to himself, “Tell me… what’s wrong with me? I’m handsome, educated abroad, stylish, cultured, well-mannered, and a young talent. Why do you dislike me so much? Hey, Jiaqi, I’m talking to you—don’t ignore me.”
Finally, she turned to him with a small, exasperated smile. “There are too many people who like you… it’s just not my turn yet.”
He chuckled, a faint glimmer in his eyes. “Do you really think they like me? They like my money.”
She raised an eyebrow and replied, teasingly, “Ruan Zhengdong, you’ve been fooled again. Honestly, I like your money more than they do. But I’m clever—I’ve read hundreds of romance novels. I know people like you are drawn to those who play hard to get. So I’m pretending to dislike you, just to see how far you’ll go. In fact, I’m waiting for you to propose… in my dreams.”
He smiled, amused. “Oh, so that’s your plan. I didn’t see that coming. Well then… why don’t we get the certificate tomorrow? Two scoundrels, a perfect match.”
Jiaqi shook her head, laughing softly. “Two scoundrels? No, I don’t deserve that. There are no rich scoundrels—only poor ones without money. I can’t call us a perfect match. Besides, I’m still young. If I marry you too early and find someone richer later… I’d be at a huge disadvantage.”
He laughed, a deep, relaxed sound. The faint scent of leather and spices from the car mixed with the subtle aroma of alcohol and cigarettes. She felt a little overwhelmed and rolled down the window, letting the night breeze ruffle her hair.
He always spoke like this—a blend of truth, mischief, and challenge. She couldn’t figure him out, so she simply decided not to believe a word he said.
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