The bookstore was quieter than usual that evening. The yellow glow of the lantern-shaped lamps softened the corners, wrapping the shelves and tables in an easy hush. Customers had thinned out; only the quiet rustle of pages and the faint hiss of the espresso machine remained.
Gu Ze Yan stood a step too close. His eyes fixed on Lin Qing Yun, serious in a way that made the air between them suddenly heavy.
"I want full service," he said softly, but firmly, every syllable clear. "Exclusive. I'll be your only client."
Lin Qing Yun blinked at him, lips parting as if to say something, but the words caught in her throat. For a heartbeat, she only stared, wide-eyed, at the man leaning so near.
Then she managed a small laugh, brushing it off like a floating dust mote. "Mr. Gu, please don't tease me. I'm desperate enough as it is—if you joke about money now, I might actually faint."
But his expression didn't change. The corner of his lips curved slightly, not mocking but steady, as if amused by her attempt to dodge.
"I mean it," he said again. His voice was low, warm, with the quiet persistence of rain tapping on a window. "I can pay everything you need. Or—" his eyes glinted, "—if you prefer, unlimited pay… for unlimited service."
Qing Yun's laughter faded. Her hand froze halfway through straightening a stack of receipts.
Unlimited.
She swallowed, trying not to show the shiver in her chest. She knew—of course she knew—that the money she had scraped together all these years wasn't nearly enough. Si Yao's tuition, dorm, living expenses abroad… the dream they clung to was slipping further away.
And here he was. Offering in one sentence what she couldn't manage in years.
But wasn't this too much like… selling herself?
She clenched her fingers tightly on the receipts and forced her tone light. "Why me?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Ze Yan didn't hesitate. His gaze stayed locked on her, steady and almost too intense.
"Because I've watched you," he said simply. "The way you work, the way you smile, how you adapt to every person who comes through this door. You make everyone feel… taken care of."
Qing Yun's ears grew warm. She quickly lowered her gaze.
"If I need someone to play the role of my girlfriend," he continued, "why not hire the best? You've already proved you're professional."
Then, almost too casually, his lips tugged into a half-smile. "Help me. I'm your loyal customer, aren't I?"
Qing Yun's breath hitched. The phrase echoed—the same joking complaint she had once tossed his way. Somehow, coming from him, it felt heavier, as though threaded with something else.
She lifted her head, intending to argue, but the earnestness in his eyes halted her. He had already told her about his family. About the loneliness. About the pressure. She knew what he was facing.
And maybe… maybe this was just helping.
Her shoulders sagged slightly. She sighed, defeated. "…Okay. I'll help you. Think of it as… helping a friend."
For a moment, silence. Then—
His whole expression lit up, bright as a boy who had just gotten away with stealing the last candy. The change was so fast, so startling, that she almost laughed.
"Good," he said, stepping back, satisfaction glimmering in his eyes.
She shook her head, hiding a smile, and went back to arranging the counter. From the corner of her eye, she saw him return to his table, sipping tea with an elated ease that looked nothing like the brooding man who had walked in earlier.
Like night and day.
--
Later, the shop closed. The bell jingled its goodnight. As usual, Ze Yan drove her home, the hum of the car soft against the quiet streets.
Before she could reach for the door handle, his voice cut through.
"Tell me honestly," he said, tone gentler than usual. "How much would it take… for you to stop worrying about Si Yao's college?"
Her hand froze.
She turned to him, smiled faintly, though the smile held a trace of sadness. "Still… very far from enough."
In her mind flashed the debt collector, the way he had walked away with her hard-earned savings. The helplessness of watching years of effort vanish in a single transfer.
Ze Yan studied her, brows furrowed slightly. Then, in a voice so calm it almost startled her, he asked:
"Would three hundred thousand (yuan) be enough?"
The world stopped.
Qing Yun's eyes widened. "Three… hundred thousand?"
That was more than she had saved in five years. To him, it rolled off his tongue like spare change.
"I want to be your exclusive client," he said quietly, gaze steady. "Whenever, wherever I need you, you'll be my girlfriend. And every expense will be on me. You won't have to spend a cent."
Her throat tightened. She had already agreed earlier, hadn't she? She couldn't take her words back now.
So she did what she always did: put on her smile.
"I'll do my best," she said, her voice soft.
His eyes softened, too. He leaned back slightly, lips tugging upward. "Good. Now, girlfriend."
The word made her cheeks prickle.
"I'll need your service this weekend," he added smoothly. "There's a lunch gathering at my stepfather's house. He expects me to bring someone."
Lin Qing Yun blinked, then nodded quickly. Professional mode activated. "Understood. Then… please send me your family's background. Names, relationships, habits. I'll study them."
For a second, he only looked at her—then chuckled, muttering under his breath, "So professional."
She puffed her cheeks, indignant. "Of course. I'm a diligent worker!"
They both laughed, the tension melting.
"I'll email you everything," he promised. "If you're going to help me, I want perfection."
--
At her building, as always, he got out to open the door for her.
"Goodnight, Mr. Gu," she said, smiling faintly.
He leaned slightly closer, voice dropping: "Goodnight, baobei."
Her brows shot up. She froze, then huffed, flustered, laughing under her breath. Waving him off, she escaped toward the stairwell.
--
In her apartment, Qing Yun leaned against the closed door, pressing her palm to her chest. Relief washed through her—finally, a way to secure Siyao's future.
But guilt and confusion tangled in her stomach. Why does this feel like… selling myself to him?
Across the city, in his penthouse, Gu Ze Yan poured himself a glass of water he didn't drink.
For the first time in a long time, the loneliness that usually wrapped him felt thinner, weaker.
He stared out at the river lights, lips curving faintly.
"Finally," he murmured. "One step closer to my sunshine."