My girlfriend's lie

Chapter 7

I don’t know how long I sat there.

The sky outside the window had bled from pale gray to an inky blue. The room was dark, the only light source the screen of my old laptop.

The light washed over my face, illuminating the folder on the screen I had just wiped clean with my own hands.

Du Wanning’s folder.

The cramping in my stomach returned, a piercing agony sharper than ever before, as if an invisible hand were viciously wringing my insides.

I curled up in my chair, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to fight off the chill that seemed to seep from the very marrow of my bones.

So this was it. Seven years of my life, worth nothing more than an engagement invitation and a casually tossed-off “consider it compensation.”

Compensation?

What a joke.

My mind was a tangled mess, like a ball of yarn pawed by a kitten. Yet one thread stood out, sharp and clear, pulling me back to another, equally cold moment.

That year, for the Spring Festival, I had started preparing a month in advance for my first formal visit with her parents.

I knew her father was a fan of traditional opera, so I pulled every string I could and spent nearly half a month's salary to get two tickets to see a famous master at the National Grand Theatre.

I placed the tickets in a fine envelope and presented them to him, full of hope, as if I were offering up my entire soul.

Her father took it, glanced at the tickets, and said flatly, “How thoughtful of you.”

Her mother didn’t even reach for them. Cradling her teacup, she offered a polite, distant smile. “Xiao Tong, dear, we're getting old. We can't stand all that clanging of gongs and drums anymore. It gives me a headache. You should save your money for yourself. Don't waste it on us.”

And just like that, the tickets I had treasured, that I'd worked so hard to get, were casually set aside by her father on a corner of the coffee table, buried under a stack of newspapers.

My heart, like those tickets, plunged into an icy abyss.

I instinctively glanced at Du Wanning, hoping she would say something, anything, in my defense.

But she just linked her arm through her mother's and said with a placating smile, “Oh, Mom, it's the thought that counts.”

Her words were gentle, but held no real defense of me.

Later that night, the atmosphere in the car on the way back from her house was suffocating.

“What was that about?” she said, breaking the silence. Her tone was sharp with reproach. “You were like a block of wood in front of my parents, you didn't say a word.”

I gripped the steering wheel, my eyes fixed on the endless stream of traffic ahead. My throat felt tight. “I tried talking. They didn't respond.”

“So you couldn't find anything else to talk about?” Her voice rose. “Xiao Tong, can you please grow up? My dad likes talking about current events, my mom likes to talk about investments. Was it so hard to do a little homework? Getting along with my family isn't just for me, it's for *our* future!”

I looked at her in the rearview mirror. The face I knew so well was now a mask of impatience.

All I could do was force a bitter smile and swallow my grievances.

After that, I started visiting her family less and less. It wasn't that I didn't want to go; I was afraid to. I couldn't bear her mother's critical, scrutinizing gaze, or her father's polite but distant demeanor.

But my withdrawal only earned me more frequent criticism from Du Wanning.

Until one day, while she was distractedly taking a call, she complained to me, “This is so annoying. My mom is making me have dinner with the son of some CEO Li. She said he just got back from overseas and has already started his own company…”

A roar filled my ears.

When she hung up, I kept my voice low. “What does that mean? She's sending you on a blind date?”

“Blind date? Don't make it sound so ugly!” She frowned, looking offended. “It's just dinner. Getting to know someone. My mom's just looking out for me.”

“Looking out for you?” I couldn't hold it in any longer. The dam of anger and resentment I'd been building for so long finally broke. “Looking out for you means going behind my back to meet other men? Du Wanning, what do you take me for?”

My voice echoed in the empty room, sounding unnaturally harsh.

She was startled by my outburst, but her surprise quickly gave way to a strange, cold expression. It was a look I had never seen on her face before—a mixture of disgust and contempt.

“Xiao Tong,” she said, looking straight at me. Her voice was quiet, but each word was a shard of ice. “The way you're acting right now... it's pathetic.”

“Pathetic…”

I froze, the blood turning to ice in my veins.

The chill of the memory shot up my spine, mingling with the musty smell of my apartment and making me want to gag.

I braced myself against the desk and dry-heaved, but nothing came up.

And then I finally understood.

The engagement invitation wasn't the end of the story. It was the final verdict.

I wasn't defeated by some man named Jiang Yuanzhou.

I had already lost from the moment I stood at her front door, clutching those opera tickets, my heart full of hope.

In their eyes, I had never been a suitable candidate for a son-in-law.

I was just… a placeholder. A convenient, free, useful boyfriend to pass the time with, until someone better came along.