On the day her fiancé cheated on her, Zhou Weiyang told him to get out of his house.
The next day, a strange man handed over a contract marriage invitation: "One year, 10 million plus a house."
She signed.
It's not a loss anyway.
But she never expected that this cold-faced boss who compensated her 50,000 yuan would change his style after marriage - he cooked instant noodles for her in the middle of the night, secretly wrote her name on the real estate certificate, filled the refrigerator with post-it notes before going on a business trip, and said in front of reporters from all over the country: "I am the one I should envy. I am lucky to marry her."
On the day when the one-year period expired, Zhou Weiyang dug out the dusty contract from the drawer.
Looking at the "one-year term, two liquidations upon maturity" clause above, she felt a little funny.
She walked to the kitchen door, where the man in an apron was decorating a strawberry cake, as focused as if he was signing a tens-billion contract.
She slapped the contract on the kitchen table: "This is void. It will be renewed for a lifetime."
Xu Huaiyu paused, and the decorating bag tilted on the cake.
He looked down at the crooked butter flower for two seconds, then picked up the contract, folded it, and put it into his apron pocket.
"It should have been scrapped a long time ago," he said. "This paper is delaying me from decorating the cake."
