Don't Beg, You Jerk. The Man Who's Loved Me for Ten Years Is Here

At the victory banquet, Song Wen smiled and said in front of everyone, “Wen Ran? She’s not my girlfriend. She just paints.” Wen Ran set the fountain pen she had engraved for him ten years ago on the table. She didn’t throw it. She simply set it down. “Mr. Song, we’re done.” She turned and called a number she hadn’t contacted in ten years. At the other end, Shen Ji, founder of Yanguang Games, set down his hot chocolate He had been watching her since their first year of high school. Every Friday afternoon, at the second seat by the window in the café. He wasn’t waiting for today. He had been waiting for ten years. Later, Song Wen knelt in front of her, his tie askew. She said, “Don’t kneel. That man, he’s there every morning at 7:15.”