"Lin Feng, let's get divorced. You make three thousand a month driving a taxi. You can't afford to support me."
>
> Outside the marriage registration office, my fiancee, Qin Qing, flung a divorce agreement at me. A Porsche worth two million was parked beside her. A man in a suit got out of the driver's seat, put an arm around her waist, and shot me a disdainful glance. "Buddy, here's thirty thousand. Sign the papers and hurry up. Don't ruin our honeymoon."
>
> I clenched my fists. For three years, I hid my identity as the heir to the richest family, hoping to find someone who truly loved me. In the end, I lost everything.
>
