The thing Su Wantang regretted most was that when Lu Chenyuan asked her "how much" she wanted, she offered a price of 100 million.
She thought that he, like all the benefactors in the circle, was buying her face and her figure; she thought that in this game of money and goods, whoever fell in love first would die first. Then he tore up the check in front of her: "What I like, don't sell it by weight."
A month later, an article "My Girlfriend is Su Wantang" exploded on the Internet, and her beauty was shattered all over the place. On a rainy night, she dialed the blocked number for the twelfth time and ran into the guardrail of the highway ramp.
When she opened her eyes again, she went back to two years ago - her agent was holding the gold-plated business card of the most mysterious financial financier in Beijing. This time, she threw the business card into the trash can: "Thank you, Mr. Lu, I won't sell it."
She thought that by rejecting the fire pit, the sky would be high, but she didn't know that on the other side of the city, the man stared at the reply "Miss Su declined" and smiled softly: "After ten years, she is still the first person who dares to reject me."
He chases, she hides. He made anonymous donations to the troupe, "passed by" her in the alley where she had a fever, and kept her double-skinned breasts every Wednesday for a whole year.
Until she met him under the ginkgo tree at his alma mater, standing like a sculpture facing a dusty training room window: the sketchbook was filled with drawings of her at the age of seventeen, and in the plastic bag was a friend application waiting for verification for 3287 days.
It turned out that he had been looking for her for ten years. It turned out that what she sold for a price of 100 million was his entire youth that he had scooped out of the mud for ten years.
Intention: Sincerity is not sold on a small scale, even people in the mud deserve to be loved.