"Shen Yue, you are not worthy of me." Qian Cheng's voice seemed to float from far away, and his face was particularly clear under the lights of the banquet hall. "I will be promoted to vice president soon. You, a small salesperson with a monthly salary of three thousand, are not even worthy of carrying my shoes."
There were whispers all around.
I looked down at the toast outfit I was wearing, which I rented for two months' salary. The silver sequins sparkled under the lights, making me look like a Christmas tree standing on the roadside handing out flyers. Qian Cheng disliked the cheapness of this outfit, but he didn't know that I had maxed out my credit card.
Standing next to Qian Cheng was a woman wearing Chanel haute couture, holding his arm and smiling like a fox who had just stolen a chicken. Oh no, I should thank her for taking over such a top product for me.
"I wish you happiness." I put the bouquet into Qian Cheng's arms, turned around and left.
The clicking sound of high heels on the marble floor was particularly clear. I could feel everyone's eyes on my back, like knives. But I can't cry. I have to put on makeup. I paid a makeup artist 200 yuan for it. If I cry, I still have to reapply it.
