I spent two years mooning over Qin Zheng.
By day, I was his secretary, always at his beck and call and the target of whatever humiliation he pleased.
By night, I was his contract lover, a soft, warm beauty at his mercy in his arms.
He said, “Cheng Qing, do you really like me that much? Know your place. You're not worthy!”
Later, our contract expired, and his first love returned at just the right time.
I left.
But he abandoned his first love and showed up at my door, eyes red. “You used to call me your husband. How can you not love me?”
He never understood that he was the one who'd been the replacement all along.
