She sat up, leaning against the headboard, looking at him. Is this an amicable parting then? Googlᴇ search novelFirｅ.net Her heart suddenly started thumping so hard that she even forgot her fear of him. He glanced at her nonchalantly, capturing the subtle change in her gaze—it was akin to a death row inmate suddenly being told they were about to be released without charges. He sighed inwardly, choosing not to expose this secret of hers. She wasn’t even like any other woman; she never once asked, "Who is Zhou Ting?" Even though he had mentioned Zhou Ting several times in her presence, she still didn’t inquire, as if it had nothing to do with her. How cold must a woman’s heart be to remain so steadfast? Yet, she was as timid as a mouse, always ready to flee at the first opportunity. Just like now. She had clearly injured him, yet he was the one who felt like the vicious one. The room was very quiet. The two of them had never shared such silence before, almost like a real couple. A long silence persisted. Yan Xixi made no move to break it. After the heart-pounding night of escape, she felt exceptionally weary. She was still silent. He seemed neither to be waiting for her answer nor to need one. He was simply calling out her name. He stretched out his long legs leisurely, closed his eyes, and asked, "After you get your graduation certificate, have you thought about what kind of job you’ll find?" "I will look for one, Mr. Wong. Please rest assured." "Do you need me to arrange a job for you? I can find you a well-paying, desirable position." A high-paying, desirable position—who wouldn’t dream of such a thing? But, after a pause, she still declined, "No, thank you. I don’t need it." She answered truthfully, "My mother is no longer here. I don’t need to support anyone else. I can earn more than enough to take care of myself." Besides, with a diploma from a key university—a credential that truly held its weight—what was there to fear? "Don’t rush. You can take your time finding a job. When you leave, feel free to take anything from this house that you like. If you run into any trouble, you can also call me." "Thank you, Mr. Wong." The breakup process was complete. So this was their final goodbye, then? She didn’t know if this kind of relationship even required a formal ’goodbye’—perhaps it wasn’t necessary? After a moment, she rose and slowly took a credit card from her purse, offering it to him. He glanced at the credit card but didn’t take it. It was a supplementary card he had arranged for her, with an overdraft limit of only 30,000. It was hardly worth mentioning. "Mr. Wong, I don’t think I’ll need this anymore." "No rush. You can return it to me when you’re leaving." Would a few days earlier or later really make any difference? However, since he said so, she didn’t argue. He fell silent for a moment before asking again, "Xixi, are you truly sure you can make a living on your own?" "Please rest assured, Mr. Wong." "Perhaps you could consider the matter of opening a boutique. I promised you before that when I let you go, I would give you a boutique. What brand do you like? I can have someone prepare it for you. Then, all you’ll need to do is put some thought into managing it properly." "Thank you, but I’m not interested in running a store." She would not accept any more favors from him. After all, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. His contributions for her university degree—it was a clean trade; they owed each other nothing. How wonderful. Why complicate matters with a boutique? It might very well turn into a failed venture! He glanced at her, a hint of confusion in his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself: he had financially supported a woman for over a year. During that time, the most significant thing he had done was to pay for her university education.