Seven years ago, at the engagement banquet, I broke the left leg of my fiancée's childhood friend.

Less than a month after I was sentenced to prison, the two of them went and obtained their marriage certificates.

Who didn't know that I would dare to do anything to pursue Sheena?

Everyone was waiting to see how I would take revenge once I got out of prison.

Yet unexpectedly, the first thing I did after my release was to completely withdraw from their circle and disappear without a trace.

It was drizzling that day when I went to the high-speed rail station to pick up a passenger.

She didn't say a word after getting into the car, her gaze blank and dazed.

I forced a professional smile and started, "Hello. May I have the last digits of your phone number?"

Her lips tightened instantly. "Charles... you..."

"Don't even remember my number?"

——

"Sorry. It's the platform's rule. I can only provide service after the last digits are confirmed," I replied calmly.

The car fell into silence. Only the rhythmic swish of the wipers and the low hum of the engine filled the space.

Finally, Sheena recited her number.

I followed the navigation and drove onto the main road, fixing my eyes on the road ahead.

It was as if the person sitting beside me was nothing more than an ordinary passenger.

Her breathing was light, and she hesitated several times as if wanting to speak.

Her fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her skirt—a gesture I knew all too well. It meant she was struggling intensely inside.

"Charles..." She finally spoke again. "How are you doing now?"

I kept my gaze forward, maintaining a professional smile. "Pretty good. Plain and ordinary."

Driving, eating, sleeping—no ups and downs.

"It's the life I want."

"You're lying!" She retorted immediately, turning her head to stare at my profile.

"How could you possibly get used to this? Don't you know what kind of life you used to live?"

"There were drivers to take you everywhere, custom-made clothes, and even the water you drank had to be airlifted from abroad."

"Now you're driving a ride-hailing car and living..."

She stopped short and didn't finish the sentence.

But the pity and disbelief hidden in those unfinished words were painfully clear.

I smiled, but didn't respond.

When the car stopped at a red light at the intersection of the old street in the south of the city, the rain happened to stop.

"You drive here... how much can you earn in an hour?"

Sheena suddenly asked, her eyes fixed on the street view outside the window, her expression complicated.

"It depends. When business is good, around forty to fifty. Usually about twenty," I answered truthfully, my tone calm.

She fell silent for a few seconds, then lowered her head and opened her expensive handbag.

She took out a brand new hundred dollar bill and placed it on the center console.

"Then I'll hire you for an hour. No need to drive. Just accompany me for a walk around this old street, okay?"

I glanced at the bill, put it away, and nodded.

"The customer is always right. If there's money to be made, why not?"

After stopping the car, I led her into the old street.

The cobblestones were slippery, and she walked cautiously in her delicate high heels.

Elderly people sitting on bamboo chairs outside their homes or shopkeepers along the street greeted me familiarly.

"You're back from work, Charles?"

"Charles, have you eaten yet? If not, Granny here has some soy milk."

"Charles, who's this beauty? She's gorgeous!"

I responded with a smile each time, exchanging a few casual words, keeping my tone natural.

Sheena followed half a step behind me, listening to these lively, everyday conversations. The confusion on her face grew heavier with each word.

"You know them well?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah. After I got out, I had nowhere to go, no money. So I rented a small loft up here," I said casually.

"I've been living here for over a year, so the neighbors all know me," I said as we walked.

"Duke, the electrician, is really helpful—he's fixed my leaking roof multiple times."

"Granny Lyn, who sells soy milk, always saves me a bowl in the morning. She says young people shouldn't skip breakfast, or it'll hurt their stomachs."

"Joseph, who runs the grocery store—when my car broke down at the beginning, he rode his tricycle all the way to help me carry my tools back."

Sheena listened silently, her lips pressed tighter with each sentence.

Her eyes roamed over the weathered walls, the narrow alleyways, the ordinary clothes hung out to dry.

Finally, they returned to my gray jacket, faded from countless washes.

Every detail around us told a life completely different from the Charles she once knew.

The old me spent money like water, arrogant and overbearing.

I lived in villas with swimming pools and lawns, never noticing—or even speaking with—these "small people."

Now, here I was, laughing and chatting casually with them.

"Can you really live in a place like this?" Her voice quivered slightly.

I wasn't sure if it was exhaustion or something else.

"It's fine. Quiet, full of human warmth." I pointed to a side street ahead. "Are you tired? There's a small stall over there selling tofu pudding and fried cakes. Pretty good. Want to sit for a bit?"

She didn't protest.

The stall was simple—a cart, a few low tables, and plastic stools under an old locust tree.

The owners, a middle-aged couple, saw me and immediately greeted me warmly.

"Charles! You're back from work!"

"Oh, you brought a friend?"

"Sit, sit! We've got fresh brown sugar glutinous rice cakes today!"

I pulled out a stool for Sheena and wiped it down with a tissue.

"Two bowls of savory tofu pudding, extra pickled vegetables and dried shrimp. Four fried cakes, and two brown sugar glutinous rice cakes."

"Got it!"

The food arrived quickly.

I picked up the disposable spoon and fork, and began eating with care.

One bite of tofu pudding, one bite of fried cake, occasionally inhaling softly from the heat.

My face showed genuine satisfaction from the taste.

Sheena didn't touch her food.

She just watched me, her expression slowly shifting from complex to heartbroken.

The Charles she remembered had been impossibly picky with food—even Michelin three-star dishes could sometimes fail to impress him.

Now, he sat on a greasy little stool by the roadside, eating less than twenty dollar's worth of food, and yet he looked as if he were savoring a feast.

The contrast was more striking than any words could describe.

When I finished my portion and saw she still hadn't eaten, I pointed at the bowl in front of her.

"It'll taste better warm. Not quite what you're used to, but it's good—try it."

It was like a wake-up call. Her eyelashes fluttered as she slowly picked up the spoon, took a small piece of rice cake, and tasted it.

"Charles..."

Sheena set down her spoon and opened her expensive bag again.

This time, she didn't pull out cash, but a bank card.

"There's three million on it. The password is my birthday."

I didn't look at the card.

"Eat. The tofu pudding will get cold."

I finished the last of my own bowl, drinking the final drops of broth.

"This hour's almost up."

I checked my phone, glanced at the time, and turned to her, still wearing that professional smile.

"Do you want me to take you back, or... do you have other plans?"

Sheena lowered her voice as she looked at my expressionless face.

"Stop pretending. I'm not joking. Take this money—buy a decent place to live, get a better car, find an easier job, or start a small business."

"Stop driving for ride-hailing apps. It's too exhausting, and it's not something you should be doing."

I shook my head, my gaze drifting past her, landing on the mottled bark of the old locust tree in the distance.

"Thanks, but no. I like it this way."

"Charles!"

Her voice suddenly rose, making the stall owner nearby glance over before lowering her head again and returning to work.

Sheena seemed to realize she had lost control. She took a deep breath and lowered her voice once more.

"Don't be stubborn. You know exactly what kind of life you're living now."

"This three million means nothing to me."

"Just take it as... take it as a complete end to our past relationship."

"We're even, okay?"

Clear and settled.

Those words were like an extremely thin needle, gently pricking a corner of memory that had long been sealed away.

Five years ago, the final round of a university debate.

The topic was whether technological development necessarily leads to the alienation of human emotions.

As the main speaker for the affirmative side, I was fully prepared and brimming with confidence.

The opposing team's main speaker was a girl with a neat ponytail and a calm, composed expression.

During the free debate session, my teammates and I launched fierce attacks, presenting carefully prepared data and cases one after another.

When it was her turn, she didn't directly refute the statistics.

Instead, she told a story.

An elderly resident in her hometown lived alone. Her children were away, and she suffered from constant melancholy and illness.

Through a simple companion app developed by community volunteers, she learned to make video calls.

Being able to speak to her grandson daily brought smiles to her face and improved her health.

Her delivery was calm, without flowery words—just plain, sincere narration.

Yet the warmth emerging from everyday life instantly captured the audience's attention.

"Technology is a tool," she concluded, her gaze clear.

"The tool itself is neither warm nor cold. What matters is the heart of the person using it."

"When we use technology to bridge gaps and connect people, it doesn't create indifference—it becomes a different form of companionship and care."

At that moment, it felt as if all the lights on the stage focused on her.

I forgot my prepared rebuttal, staring at her in awe.

Not because she was beautiful, but because of the light in her eyes.

In the circles I was used to—full of wealth and superficiality—I rarely saw anything so real.

I was captivated. I pursued her relentlessly, using every method I could imagine.

Expensive gifts, carefully orchestrated "chance encounters," grand declarations that stirred the entire campus...

To me, they were just ordinary tactics.

To Sheena, they were overwhelming, even burdensome.

She saw me as a typical rich heir, amusing myself with a regular girl for fun.

So she rejected me decisively, even avoiding me whenever possible.

But the more she resisted, the stronger my determination became.

Looking back now, it was almost a borderline obsession.

I even used connections to "dissuade" other boys who liked her.

After a year of relentless pursuit, I finally won her over.

To ease her psychological burden, I suggested we start a business together after graduation.

Half the shares each, sharing risks and profits equally.