I got married, a flash marriage.
My husband's name is Lu Jiancheng, he looks like a human and his occupation is "freedom".
I am a financial analyst with an annual salary of millions, married to a homeless person.
My friends all said that I was raped.
Until I dug out a printed copy of "The Perfect Husband's Handbook" from the drawer in his study.
It is densely marked with my preferences, highlights, and coping strategies.
For example: "If you want to send flowers on an anniversary, the budget should be within 300. Any excess may arouse suspicion."
"When she works overtime, prepare late-night snacks, avoid takeout, and create a virtuous persona."
With cold hands and feet, I dialed my best friend's phone number.
"Feifei, I'm done. I seem to have married a professional fraudster, and he's also a frugal version."
There was a scream on the other end of the phone.
"Don't panic! Kill him! Let him know that the money of women in our new era is not so easy to cheat!"
