Financial Workplace Survival Guide – CH 043

Chapter 43 ☆, Love Itself Is Dazzling And Mesmerizing.

Mary hasn’t been happy lately.

She felt both envious and bewildered by Xin Xin’s dedication to her work and her attempt to uphold justice.

She did not hate work, but for her, work was purely a means of making a living. Aside from maintaining a normal daily routine, earning a decent salary, and having an ordinary social status, she could not devote any extra passion to it.

But she was truly obsessed with love, trying to decipher a cryptic statement, secretly competing to see who would send the first message, and staying up all night testing the waters.

The ambiguity fascinated her even more than a sexual climax.

Ordinary behaviors, when catalyzed by hormones, could produce a thrilling and dazzling pleasure.

Mary sometimes couldn’t figure out whether she loved a person or the idea of ​​love itself.

Love was like poison to Mary, from her first fleeting taste to the present day. She always cherished the moments of infatuation, and the heartbreaks she experienced became enduring memories.

She first fell in love in the spring when she was twelve.

On the first day of junior high, amidst the sea of ​​people, she spotted a boy at a glance. He had a neat, slicked-back haircut and wore a blue-collared school uniform. At that moment, in Mary’s eyes, he looked different from everyone else, like a photograph with a blurred background, where the bustling crowd around him became insignificant background figures.

As if she had been precisely hit by a sniper rifle, her blood boiled, and she could even hear her heart pounding.

Without thinking, she dodged through the crowd, squeezed her way to the boy’s side, and said with a smile, “Let’s be friends. My name is Zhao Ningyan.”

The boy’s face flushed red, and he stammered, “Y-you…hello…”

Years later, Mary had long forgotten the boy’s name.

From then on, she mastered the art of interacting with men without any formal instruction. The feedback from men was a silent teacher, and she unconsciously grew into a woman who exuded charm in every gesture.

There was no one in this world who was truly beautiful but unaware of it.

If you were beautiful enough, you would understand your own beauty from the amazed looks, the flattered expressions, the tentative attempts to resist, and the ambiguous relationships.

If you were half-believing in your own charm, you probably weren’t beautiful enough.

Mary belonged to the former group; her beauty was undeniable. Even during her university years, countless modeling agencies extended offers to her, telling her that her beautiful appearance could be monetized.

She accepted the offer without hesitation, effortlessly showcasing her genius for camera work.

But she never thought about becoming an entertainer.

Mary was very clear-headed; she knew exactly how she defined her appearance: pretty, but not pretty enough to make her famous overnight.

Being an ordinary, beautiful woman with brains was enough to live a good life. But in the entertainment industry, where beauties abound, looks became less valuable, and she would likely start to doubt herself as she got older, thus losing confidence.

Mary was not a vain person; she did not seek more applause, and all she wanted was pure love.

She always fell quickly into a blind and impulsive relationship, only to realize, after the passion faded, that this person wasn’t her true love. Then she’d calm down and pursue another unknown love.

However, Han Canghai was clearly an exception in her remarkable romantic history.

That day, she called Han Canghai back and said, “I’m sorry; I was drunk the day before yesterday.”

“Let’s have dinner together, and we can talk when we meet.”

Han Canghai’s cold and indifferent words made Mary agree to the date without hesitation.

When Mary arrived at the restaurant, Han Canghai had already ordered the food.

The two sat down facing each other. Mary looked closely and noticed that Han Canghai had become even thinner than before. His cold and indifferent face seemed even more aloof.

The dishes were served one by one: salt-baked chicken, chicken feet, shrimp dumplings, and char siu.

Every dish was one of Mary’s favorites, and Mary felt a surge of secret joy. However, the next moment, she suddenly felt disappointed. Ever since she met Han Canghai, they had always eaten these dishes.

It wasn’t because he remembered Mary’s preferences; perhaps it was simply because they shared the same tastes.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Han Canghai’s voice seemed to carry a hint of uncertainty and unease.

Mary was flustered and didn’t notice anything unusual about Han Canghai. She wanted to ask why he had asked her to dinner again, and she also wanted to know what they had talked about on the phone that night.

But she felt that none of these things were appropriate to say, and after thinking it over, she chose the worst sentence: “The day you sold the house, was it because you two were together? Are you getting married?”

Han Canghai seemed somewhat surprised, but then anger rose on his face. “You’re really a master at throwing mud. She and I are good friends with similar interests. Do you think all relationships between men and women are as sordid as the men around you?”

Mary was furious at such accusations. Her eyes widened. “If I’ve misunderstood, I apologize. Is this the kind of woman you think I am?”

Han Canghai sneered. He had never criticized Mary so sharply before. Even when the two were arguing the most, he remained calm and composed. At his worst, he would simply turn his back, take a deep breath, and coldly say, “Let’s calm down.”

But now, perhaps the long-accumulated unhappiness has finally collapsed, and Han Canghai said sternly, “Zhao Ningyan, when you met me back then, what did you tell me? You said that your greatest love in this life was history and that you spent most of your free time reading. You said that you loved outdoor sports, liked to travel all over the country, and liked to write your own words.”

But what was the reality?

Han Canghai felt a sharp pain in his heart once again in an instant.

He saw her photos, a side of her that she deliberately concealed from him. She was wearing a beautiful red sundress, taking pictures with a group of men and women on the beach. In her photo album, there were her birthday photos, her graduation photos, and photos of her with small animals, and apart from solo photos, most of the group photos included different men and women. Even across the years, one could see an unusual adoration for her in the gentle, shy, or excited gazes of those people.

That was the real her.

When they were together, he more or less sensed that the girl who always wore no makeup, wore a hoodie, and carried books wasn’t entirely her. But he deceived himself, telling himself over and over how much Mary loved him, listened to all his lectures, and read the books he loved.

If he hadn’t seen Mary’s photo and didn’t know what Mary really looked like, Han Canghai might have continued to deceive himself into believing he was her husband until one day she grew tired of him.

Unfortunately, he still found out. He couldn’t deceive himself, and he couldn’t ignore the doubts in his heart.

Sure enough, after he broke up with her, Mary only pretended to be sad for a few days. Then she happily started planning to go on blind dates, and he saw her profile on a dating website.

At that moment, he had felt the same way he did now: disappointment mixed with pain, resentment, and an undeniable infatuation.

He kept telling himself in his heart, over and over again, it was always the same two words, “Forget it.”

But in the end, as if by some strange twist of fate, he found himself on that cruise ship, pretending it was all a coincidence. He watched Mary casually exude her charm and felt smug that she still cared about him.

After meeting on the cruise ship, Han Canghai thought there might still be a possibility for them. He even hoped that Mary would then unleash her charm in his presence. He would get to know a more authentic version of her, examine her true feelings little by little, and then tell her, “Let’s start over.”

But Mary ignored him after he waited and waited. When he finally called her, he discovered she had changed her phone number.

Han Canghai couldn’t understand why there were women like Mary who could be chatting and laughing with him one second, acting as if he were the love of her life, and then disappearing without a trace the next, as if she had never existed in his world.

After a week of being distraught, he went to Mary’s house and lingered downstairs for a long time before finally making up his mind to go up.

But it wasn’t her who opened the door; it was an older woman.

He asked, “Do you know any of the original residents here?”

The aunt, puzzled, asked, “I moved in two weeks ago. Who are you talking about?”

Mary was like a drop of water that fell into the ocean.

Later, on an afternoon when he had no classes, he went to Mary’s company. It was then that he saw Mary walking out arm in arm with someone, chatting and laughing.

A tall, handsome man with black-rimmed glasses.

He saw undisguised tenderness and affection in that person’s face. He also saw an unconscious, unintentional tenderness in Mary’s face, every glance and smile exuding captivating charm.

Han Canghai felt sorry for himself.

Mary presented herself to him as a mystery, and he presumptuously assumed that she must be a frivolous, heartless person who treated love as a game.

He threatened to break up with her to force her to reveal her true identity.

Later, when he finally saw the Mary he had imagined, he was overwhelmed by immense pain and hatred. Indeed, her love was a lie; she used genuine affection to deceive men, and once rejected, she could easily move on to someone else.

He had already guessed the answer and sentenced Mary to death.

But when her true self was laid bare before him, he sadly realized that even so, he still couldn’t forget her.

“I know you are foolish, frivolous, and empty-headed, yet I love you; I know your intentions, you are snobbish and vulgar, yet I love you.”

Suddenly, this line from “The Painted Veil” came to Han Canghai’s mind.

A woman like Mary was even more terrifying. She was intelligent, cunning, thrill-seeking, ambitious, and resourceful. She could easily make any man fall in love with her.

Han Canghai imagined that if they continued to be together or even got married, Mary would lose interest in him after realizing that he was a boring, ordinary history teacher and an uninteresting, ordinary person.

They were not a good match and would inevitably slide into a tragic end.

Han Canghai tried to let it go and shifted his gaze to the gentle and refined girls. They loved reading and history and shared his interests and values.

Reason told him he had countless other choices. But emotion told him his heart was now missing a piece.

Until one day, he had a long dream during his afternoon nap. He dreamed that Mary said to him in a tender and loving voice, “Darling, I used to love you very much, but I don’t love you anymore. I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”

The dream was tender and sweet, but when Han Canghai woke up, his face was covered in either sweat or tears.

He saw the most fundamental fear in his heart when he broke up with his girlfriend.

That same evening, he received a call from an unknown number. He intended to hang up but accidentally answered.

On the other end was Mary, completely drunk.