Lin Yaoyue spent the subway ride home questioning every decision she had made in the past forty-eight hours.
Taking the interview? Definitely questionable.
Agreeing to be a billionaire's fake girlfriend for money? Borderline insane.
Signing the contract without reading the fine print? That was probably the biggest red flag of all.
She pulled the folder from her bag and opened it for the first time. Inside was a clean, crisp document, printed on heavy paper that even felt expensive. The title alone sounded ridiculous:
Private Agreement Between Mr. Jiang Zeyan and Ms. Lin Yaoyue
She flipped past the first few pages, skimming quickly.
Clause 3.2: The parties agree to attend public events as a couple, including but not limited to charity galas, corporate functions, and family dinners.
Clause 4.1: Physical affection in public is permitted if deemed necessary for realism.
Clause 7.5: Neither party may initiate or request emotional attachment. Breach of clause results in contract termination.
Yaoyue closed the folder and stared out the subway window, watching her reflection flicker against the dark glass.
"What kind of life did I just sign up for?" she muttered.
---
By the next afternoon, she had moved into the guest suite of Jiang Zeyan's penthouse.
She had seen fancy apartments in magazines, maybe glimpsed a few in movies, but this was on another level. The floors were white marble, the ceiling lights looked like they were made of crystal, and the windows stretched across the entire skyline.
The guest room itself was larger than her entire apartment.
A housekeeper helped her bring her things in, which wasn't difficult, since all she had was one rolling suitcase, a laptop, and a sad-looking tote bag with her toiletries.
She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure if she was supposed to tip the housekeeper or not.
"You don't have to unpack everything now," said a low voice from the doorway.
She turned and found Jiang Zeyan standing there, dressed in another immaculate suit, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked effortless, like he'd just walked out of a luxury watch advertisement.
"Thanks," she said, voice dry. "I only own like six shirts, so it won't take long."
His mouth twitched, the closest thing she'd seen to a smile since yesterday.
"I have a schedule prepared for the week," he said. "Our first public appearance is in three days. A business dinner with my investors. You'll need to be dressed appropriately."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'll have my assistant arrange a fitting for you tomorrow. You'll be given a wardrobe allowance."
She blinked. "So I get paid to live here, pretend to date you, and now I get free designer clothes?"
"That is the arrangement."
"And you're sure you're not secretly insane?"
"No," he said calmly. "But I'm very good at hiding it."
---
The next day, Yaoyue found herself standing in front of three professional stylists, all examining her like she was a mannequin. Swatches of fabric, shoes in boxes, and racks of designer dresses filled the entire room. She hadn't worn anything this fancy since her high school graduation, and even then, the dress had been borrowed and slightly too big.
She stood still while one stylist measured her waist and another picked out jewelry.
"Try not to frown," one of them said. "Your boyfriend will be photographed with you. First impressions matter."
She resisted the urge to laugh. If only they knew the truth.
When she got back to the penthouse, she found Jiang Zeyan in the lounge area, reading a report with two phones on the table beside him. Without looking up, he asked, "Did the fitting go well?"
"I'm not sure. I think I was just body-scanned and emotionally insulted by three people wearing leather gloves indoors."
He finally glanced up, eyes steady.
"You'll get used to it."
She dropped onto the chair across from him, kicked off her heels, and sighed.
"Can I ask something?"
"You already are."
"What's really going on? I mean, why go through all this trouble? There are models, actresses, women who would kill to fake-date you."
"They want more than a contract," he said. "Attention. Power. Marriage. I don't have time for any of that."
"And I'm just some desperate girl with no influence."
"That's exactly why you're perfect."
The way he said it made her skin crawl slightly. Not because it was rude, but because it was true.
She was a nobody. No name. No fame. Just a girl who needed to pay her bills and didn't have time to dream.
"You're cold, you know that?" she said softly.
"I'm focused," he replied.
She leaned back, folding her arms. "One month. That's the deal, right?"
"One month."
"And after that, we go back to pretending we don't exist."
"That's how I prefer it."
---
The day of the dinner arrived faster than she expected. The black dress they'd given her fit like it had been sewn directly onto her body. She stared at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, barely recognizing herself. Her hair was swept up, her lips painted a soft red, and her heels gave her two extra inches of height and one hundred extra problems with balance.
When she stepped into the living room, Jiang Zeyan stood waiting in a charcoal-gray suit, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked her up and down, nodding once.
"You look acceptable."
She rolled her eyes. "Try saying something that doesn't sound like a performance review."
He paused, then said, "You look good."
That was better, though his expression didn't change.
As they rode the elevator down together, he said, "There will be reporters outside. Don't speak unless necessary. Smile occasionally. Hold my arm."
"Got it. Smile, stay quiet, pretend I like you."
He gave her a sidelong glance. "Pretend convincingly."
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
A row of black cars waited at the curb. Cameras flashed instantly. Reporters called his name, some calling hers too now. And just like that, she felt the weight of a thousand eyes.
She slipped her hand through his arm, smiling calmly, while her heart raced like a train off the rails.
For the first time in her life, Lin Yaoyue didn't know if she was acting or becoming someone entirely new.