The smell of instant noodles penetrated my nostrils, and the edge of the cheap paper bowl was a bit hot to the touch.
I stared at the last mouthful of soup in the bowl, reluctant to pour it away, and drank it all. The sticky feeling of the mixture of MSG and essence in the throat is like a layer of plastic film. The windows of the rental house were not tightly closed, and the early autumn wind came in, causing the utility bill on the table to rattle.
The phone screen lit up, showing the message Lin Weiwei sent half an hour ago.
"Lu Qingyan, let's break up. It's tiring to pretend to be the rich second generation, isn't it? I've been embarrassed for you when I watched you act in the past six months. Don't contact me anymore. My new boyfriend drives a Porsche, and the perfume on the passenger side is worth more than your house."
I turned off the phone screen and placed it on the greasy table.
Pretending to be rich?
Six months ago, my father's company's capital chain broke without warning, like a building that had its load-bearing walls removed, it collapsed. Villa mortgage, luxury car auction, account freezing. My mother cried all night and flew abroad with my father the next day, saying that she was going to deal with the debt and asked me to "take care of myself first."
This care lasts for half a year.
It took me three days to move from a large flat in the city center to this single room in an urban village with a monthly rent of 800 yuan and more cockroaches than me. It took me half a month to go from having to go to a restaurant with an average cost of RMB 500 per person for every meal to becoming proficient in distinguishing which brand of instant noodles seasoning packets are more abundant. It took me two months to go from the address book being filled with "Master Lu" and "Brother Yan" to now having no one calling except for debt collection and fraud.
I'm not pretending to be rich.
I really thought about it, and then I really didn't.
