Chapter 2: The Silent Obsession

Clara couldn't quite explain the root cause of her drastic transformation.

Clearly, she had once been a law-abiding, honest, and helpful citizen. Yet, shortly after crossing paths with Julian, she began marching further and further down a path that flirted with the boundaries of the law.

Though she had not become a literal criminal—limiting herself strictly to stealing glimpses of Julian's life both inside and outside the villa district without causing any tangible harm to him—the internal shift was still astonishing.

Perhaps it was the psychological quirk of wanting what one could never have?

Or perhaps she was simply being crushed under the agonizing weight of her job, struggling to cope with a massive, insurmountable wealth gap, and desperately needed a shred of mental comfort. Unfortunately, Julian had become that comfort.

Regardless, she had never hurt him. She merely played the role of an anonymous extra in his vast world.

Since it was a one-sided recognition on her part, Julian had no idea who she was and had never noticed her existence.

So why on earth did Julian get to possess all the best things in the world?

She wished he would go bankrupt and turn ugly!

Well... not too ugly, just reduced to the standard of an average-looking guy.

She didn't like ugly men.

Lost in this chaotic jumble of thoughts, Clara drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

Not long after, her mother woke her up for dinner.

The moment she finished eating, Clara hurried over to the vegetable market to relieve her father.

"These vegetables aren't very fresh, so discount them appropriately for the customers. And these over here..."

Her father carefully explained the pricing rules for every section of the stall to prevent any confusion that might give customers a bad impression and hurt their repeat business rate.

Carefully memorizing the precautions, Clara sat down in the chair to play on her phone the moment her father left.

When the foot traffic wasn't heavy, flies outnumbered customers. Without her phone, it would be agonizingly boring.

A neighboring vendor noticed her and teased with a chuckle, "Oh, Clara, helping out your parents again today? Such a filial daughter!"

Her parents had been running their stall at this vegetable market for over a decade. She had grown up helping out since she was a little kid, and all the surrounding vendors were old acquaintances who had essentially watched her grow up. Facing the tease, Clara just smiled and kept quiet.

When a long stretch passed without a single customer coming to buy anything, staring at her phone for too long began to fray her nerves.

At that moment, her mind drifted to Julian.

What kind of work was he busy with inside that gleaming, glamorous office building? Was he taking it seriously?

The next second, Clara shoved her phone back into her pocket and zoned out.

As evening approached, the customer traffic picked up, leaving her no time to daydream. She skillfully weighed produce and pointed customers toward the QR codes to pay, working tirelessly until her father returned.

"Clara, head on home. I'll take care of the rest," her father said.

"Mm."

With the day drawing to a close, Clara lay in bed, trying to coax herself to sleep.

At the same time, she slipped into her habitual bedtime mental theater, casually playing with a small toy to pass the time.

She hadn't possessed this habit in the past; it only manifested because of Julian.

Perhaps she had reached a biological age where physical maturity naturally triggered certain desires the moment she found someone she fancied.

Right now, if someone were to pose a question to her, both the query and the answer would be crystal clear:

Please select the item you wish Julian to provide for your needs:

1. Mugwort, 2. Mugwort, 3. Mugwort.

1.

After indulging enough in unmentionable daydreams about Julian and growing tired of the small toy, a lingering ripple of pleasure still hummed within her. Clara picked up a tissue from the bedside table, carefully cleaned up the battlefield and the toy, and then pulled the blanket over herself to sleep in absolute satisfaction.

The next morning, her 6:00 AM alarm went off right on schedule.

Groaning inwardly at the sound of the ringtone, Clara put on her metaphorical mask of suffering and dragged herself out of bed.

After washing up, she headed to the dining room, where her mother had left breakfast ready before heading out to the stall. She forced down the meal as if chewing on cardboard, grabbed her bag, and headed to the subway station, squeezing herself into a train packed tighter than a can of sardines.

Even though she owned a car, she couldn't afford to maintain it.

The various costs of driving to and off work were simply too high for her.

First, surface traffic was prone to heavy jams, whereas the subway rarely got stuck.

Second, the villa district strictly prohibited property staff from parking inside, forcing them to rent parking spaces outside the gates. The exorbitant rates there meant parking for eight hours would cost her the better part of a day's salary.

Taking public transportation to work was, all things considered, her most practical option.

After a grueling one-hour journey, Clara finally stepped off the subway.

The villa neighborhood was a bit of a walk from the station. She hiked to the main entrance, swiped her employee badge, and walked inside.

Her working hours were from 8:00 AM to 6:00 PM. If she clocked in right on the dot, she was likely to cross paths with Julian leaving for work, but she hadn't cut it that close today, so naturally, she wouldn't run into him.

Once inside the office, Clara's first task was to punch in, followed by a trip to the mailroom to sort out packages and deliveries addressed to Villa No. 8.

The luxury community featured a total of twenty estate-style villas, all of which had been sold. Each household was assigned an individual property butler, and she was specifically in charge of Villa No. 8.

She had no direct interaction with the homeowner himself, usually dealing only with his butler, servants, and staff. The butler for Villa No. 8, however, was an absolute piece of work who loved nothing more than making things difficult for the property staff, constantly nitpicking and filing complaints against them.

She had already been hit with two complaints this month, giving Clara a massive headache.

After organizing the items, she loaded them onto a small cart and pushed them toward Villa No. 8.

The moment the door opened, Clara instantly plastered on a professional smile. "Good morning, Butler Li."

No matter how much she loathed this sickening old man, she had to keep up appearances to avoid being written up.

While the old man might not refrain from complaining just because she was polite, he would definitely complain if her attitude fell short. Company policy dictated that if a property employee received more than three complaints in a month, their pay would be docked, so she swallowed her pride whenever possible.

Frankly speaking, Clara desperately needed this job.

There was no helping it—she simply wasn't cut out for academics!

She had been filtered out during the senior high school entrance examinations, missing the cutoff by just a few points. With no other choice, she attended a vocational school and eventually wound up at a junior college.

In an era of plummeting degree values and economic downturns, landing a job with full social insurance, a net monthly salary of over 8,000 yuan after taxes, and cash subsidies and gifts for major holidays was no small feat for a junior college graduate.

If they hadn't been frantically hiring last year, and if HR hadn't been pleased with her looks and zodiac sign—believing she could bring in good fortune and even running her birth chart to ensure it matched the neighborhood's feng shui—she wouldn't have even sniffed this job offer.

"Hmph." Butler Li glanced at the items on the cart and waved a subordinate over to collect them.

The old man still walked with his neck craned back, looking down at people through his nostrils—a sight Clara was well accustomed to.

Yet, she sometimes felt exhausted on the old man's behalf.

Since he was shorter than average, didn't his neck get tired from constantly sticking it out?

The thought almost made Clara burst out laughing.

She stood at only 162 centimeters, and the old man was even shorter than her—visibly lacking even 160 centimeters.

Given his height, the vast majority of people on Earth were taller than him. If he spent his entire life looking down people's noses like that, wouldn't his cervical vertebrae slip out of place?

Suppressing the urge to laugh out loud, Clara handed the items over to the servant who came to retrieve them.

Just as the handover finished and she turned to leave, the old man called out to her.

Clara obediently stopped in her tracks.

She didn't even have to guess to know the old man's lecture itch was acting up again.

Sure enough, a moment later, she was subjected to his haughty scolding. He barked that her smile just now hadn't been sincere enough, claiming it wasn't the proper attitude for the service industry. Then, he lectured her about poor work performance, complaining that the fallen leaves in the public areas hadn't been cleared away promptly by the cleaners, leaving the ground a mess.

Clara's ears were practically growing calluses from listening to this nonsense.

Whenever the old man lectured people, it was always the exact same tired script.

In the past, she used to self-reflect, internalizing the blame and trying her absolute hardest every day to make him satisfied. Now, however, she simply let it go in one ear and out the other.

When someone is intentionally looking to pick a fight, no matter how well you do, they will never be satisfied.

Besides, many of the old man's demands were utterly absurd.

It was early autumn, meaning falling leaves from the trees were completely inevitable. The cleaners swept them up several times during the day.

The old man wasn't satisfied; he wanted the cleaners to live under the trees twenty-four hours a day and sweep up the moment a single leaf drifted down.

If the cleaners couldn't achieve that, it was somehow her fault.

Heh. In her opinion, the old man was a pure pervert who loved tormenting people for fun.

While the old man rambled on endlessly, Clara appeared to be taking a severe scolding while her soul floated away into the void.

As she drifted, her gaze wandered over to Villa No. 9 in the distance.

The owner of Villa No. 9 was Julian. ട്ട്Why had they assigned her to manage Villa No. 8 instead of Villa No. 9?

She was sick and tired of this nitpicking old man!

If she were in charge of Villa No. 9, she couldn't even imagine how happy she would be.

At the very least, if any issues cropped up at Villa No. 9, she could openly walk right inside to handle them. Who knows, she might even have direct interactions with Julian, make him familiar with her, and leave an impression so she wouldn't just be an anonymous extra in his world, forced to steal glances from the shadows.

Once the old man finished his tirade, Clara pushed her cart back to the mailroom, then resumed her routine patrol of her assigned public zones, checking whether public facilities were intact so she could report any damage before someone else complained.

While patrolling, she found an opportunity to slack off, naturally wandering close to the outer wall of Villa No. 9's courtyard.

The wall was very tall—so high that it obscured anything happening inside.

As she strolled along, Clara recalled that breathtaking glimpse from over half a year ago.

Whenever she used to read or hear about people falling in love at first sight, she had always been skeptical.

Only after experiencing it herself did she realize that love at first sight truly existed.

A single glance was all it took to become unforgettable, locking the other person permanently in your heart.

She still remembered that sudden, unguarding tremor in her chest, as if something had broken into her soul, causing her heart to beat wildly out of control.

Unfortunately...

Before her thoughts could progress any further, Clara's peripheral vision caught sight of a familiar Cullinan.

Was Julian leaving late today?

Without making a sound, she ducked behind a large tree, poking her head out slightly to peer across.

Presumably because they were inside the residential district, the Cullinan was moving very slowly.

Though she couldn't see Julian himself, a flutter of excitement danced in Clara's chest, smoothing out the slight frown she wore moments before.

How should she put it?

An extra had their own unique way of finding joy.

At that exact moment, inside the Cullinan, while Uncle Wu failed to notice the figure hiding behind the tree, Julian spotted her immediately.

In the rearview mirror, a girl dressed in a neat, professional property uniform with her hair tied up cleanly was peeking out from behind a large tree, secretly sizing up the car he was sitting in—resembling a timid, underage little kitten.

Compared to when she trailed him outside, her appearance was slightly different right now.

When tracking him, she would put on deliberate disguises, yet her camouflage skills were abysmal, and her slender, delicate frame was so distinct that anyone could spot her at a single glance.

Chapter 3: The Stolen Number

Finishing her patrol, Clara returned to the office.

The moment she sat down, she noticed Kelly Zhang, who sat at the neighboring workstation, had also just returned from her rounds.

Clara couldn't help offering a warm, bright smile. "Kelly."

Kelly was the property butler in charge of Villa No. 9. Holding the same rank as Clara and having been hired earlier, she was essentially Clara's senior. When Clara had first joined, they weren't close at all, but through calculated attempts to cozy up to her, Clara had eventually managed to break the ice and befriend her.

If you needed something from someone, you had to learn to read the room and play along.

And what did Clara want from Kelly?

She wanted to extract information about Julian and anyone else sharing Villa No. 9 from Kelly's lips.

Every property employee was required to sign a strict non-disclosure agreement upon onboarding. The contract explicitly prohibited leaking homeowner information to outsiders, and colleagues weren't casually allowed to gossip about the owners they managed either. Anyone caught violating the rule faced immediate termination without severance.

Since she wasn't assigned to Villa No. 9, getting any inside details meant going through Kelly.

After growing close, Clara had painstakingly learned from Kelly that Julian's name was Julian Vance, and aside from his butler, maids, and other domestic staff, he was the sole master of Villa No. 9.

To be honest, she was grateful to Kelly—though this was also the very beginning of her descent into the "abyss."

Back then, she had merely been curious about everything concerning Julian, wanting to know if he was married or had a girlfriend. Gradually, that wasn't enough; her desires and curiosity grew out of control, eventually spiraling into an unstoppable compulsion to trail him wherever he went.

Kelly returned Clara's smile, wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, and asked, "It's so scorching today. Do you want to grab some milk tea this afternoon?"

"Let's do it, my treat!"

"How can I let you do that? You're always treating me."

"A cup of milk tea doesn't cost much anyway. Besides, my financial pressure is lower than yours," Clara said generously.

"Thanks a lot." Kelly didn't bother arguing with Clara. Having worked together for a year, she knew Clara was a local native, meaning her financial burdens were genuinely lighter than hers as an out-of-towner. "My family sent me some cured pork. I'll fry it up tomorrow and bring some for you to try."

Give and take was the foundation of any lasting relationship, and she regularly brought her own packed lunch to work anyway.

"Sounds good," Clara agreed with a beaming smile.

After finishing her chat with Kelly, before diving back into work, she sneaked a moment to check her new WeChat notifications.

What on earth are you up to lately?

I can never pin you down for hangouts anymore!

Her good friend, Chloe Taylor, was complaining about her. Clara let out a soft, internal sigh.

Recently, all her days off had been consumed by tracking Julian, leaving her zero free time to accept Chloe's invitations.

Didn't I tell you? I've officially become a broke 'moon-tribe' member—no cash left to go out and play!

My salary drops tomorrow. Want to hang out during my day off next week?

Every word of Clara's reply was the absolute truth.

Her consumption levels had skyrocketed, turning her solidly into a living-paycheck-to-paycheck dependent.

I told you not to buy a car, but you refused to listen!

On top of that, you've started buying luxury goods way beyond the budget of us poor folks!

Chloe completely failed to understand why Clara had suddenly burned through almost all her savings to buy a vehicle.

Not only that, but Clara's previously thrifty and plain personality had nearly vanished. She had developed an interest in luxury brands and even dared to buy things at stellar plaza, a high-end luxury shopping mall.

Chloe guessed it had to be tied to the shift in Clara's living environment.

After all, Clara worked in a villa community with terrifyingly high property prices, interacting with wealthy people every day; her consumption mindset was bound to be influenced.

Seeing Chloe's ongoing rant, Clara massaged the bridge of her nose.

She hadn't wanted to, but an invisible, powerful force kept driving her to do it.

After locking down the time and place for their outing, Clara prepared to put her phone away when a thick, heavy hand rapped sharply against her desk, startling her out of her skin.

Then, a raspy, duck-like voice rang out.

"Clara Lin, what do you think you're doing?"

The tone of an inquisition spelled nothing but trouble.

Clara squeezed out a smile and slowly raised her gaze. "Manager."

The man standing before her was her direct supervisor, Wu Qichao. While he wasn't quite as sickening as Butler Li, and didn't actively make things difficult for her on a daily basis, he wasn't much better either.

"Get into my office."

Dropping those words, Wu Qichao turned on his heel and strode toward his private office.

Biting the bullet, Clara followed right behind his footsteps.

"Look at you, what number complaint is this for the month?!" Wu Qichao glared with a cold, horizontal scowl down at Clara, who kept her head slightly lowered. "Butler Li just called to complain about your bad attitude again."

Clara tried to explain that her attitude had been completely fine, but Wu Qichao refused to listen, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"If there are any more complaints this month, we'll dock five hundred yuan from your pay in accordance with company policy."

"..."

"You've been here a while, and your complaint rate among the property butlers is consistently through the roof. You—"

Before Wu Qichao could finish, his phone rang. Mid-sentence, his attention instantly shifted to his computer screen. While frantically clicking and typing away on his keyboard, he spoke into the phone with unctuous, flattering obsequiousness: "One moment, please. Once I get everything sorted out, I'll have the property butler hand-deliver the access card to you."

Stuck halfway through a scolding, Clara ignored whatever Wu Qichao was busy with and let her mind drift into a blank void.

Suddenly, Wu Qichao snapped back into his fierce, glaring expression, fixing his eyes on her. "Get a better attitude! Is it really that—"

"Manager, someone's looking for you at the front desk."

A call came from outside, leaving Wu Qichao with no time to finish chewing Clara out. He hurriedly stood up and rushed toward the front desk.

Knowing Wu Qichao's toxic habits, Clara knew she mustn't wander off before he had fully satisfied his urge to lecture her; otherwise, he would just scream louder and longer next time.

Waiting was mind-numbingly boring, so her gaze began to wander around the room.

As her eyes swept across the neighboring computer screen, Clara's gaze abruptly froze.

Resident Information Registration Table

The text was emblazoned in bold across the top of the spreadsheet.

She had a table like this on her own computer too, but it only contained data for Villa No. 8—nothing like the master spreadsheet on Wu Qichao's screen.

As a manager, Wu Qichao had to oversee everything, meaning his spreadsheet aggregated the data for every single resident living in the entire villa district.

For some inexplicable reason, this spreadsheet possessed an overwhelming, irresistible temptation for her.

Driven by an impulse she couldn't control, Clara walked over to the computer, slid the mouse, and rapidly scrolled through the columns.

Until her eyes locked onto a single entry, a flash of transient joy bursting through her pupils.

Julian Vance, Villa No. 9, Homeowner, 13xxxxxxxx

Back then, she had wanted to wheedle Julian's contact info out of Kelly. Property butlers naturally had access to the homeowners' direct numbers, but the non-disclosure agreement loomed like a shadow, and Kelly wasn't stupid enough to cross the line on where she could leak information.

In the modern digital age, a phone number was tied to virtually everything!

She could use that number to dig up other details about Julian and peer even deeper into his world.

Right now, an unrepeatable opportunity sat right in front of her. If she didn't write the number down, she might never get another chance to lay eyes on this spreadsheet.

With that thought flashing through her mind, Clara darted a glance outside.

Taking advantage of the fact that Wu Qichao hadn't returned yet, she frantically grabbed a sticky note and a pen, copying down the sequence of digits.

The moment she placed the pen back in its exact spot, the faint sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears. Clara's heart rate spiked slightly. She hurriedly stepped back to her original spot, pressed a hand over the pocket holding the sticky note, and assumed a calm, composed posture as if she had done absolutely nothing at all.

Having dealt with his visitor, Wu Qichao returned to his office. Seeing that Clara was still standing obediently in place, he nodded with satisfaction, though his nagging didn't let up by even a single word.

Once the tongue-lashing finally ended, Clara stepped out of Wu Qichao's office. The moment she turned around, her expression lacked the usual irritation that followed one of his lectures; instead, it was laced with a trace of triumphant giddiness.

The second she sat down at her desk, Kelly leaned in close to her ear, lowering her voice to a hyper-secretive whisper. "Did he chew you out again?"

Wu Qichao loved screaming at people, finding excuses to yell whether there was an issue or not. Dragging subordinates into his private office for one-on-one tongue-lashings was a regular occurrence, known to everyone in the department.

Clara nodded silently without speaking.

Kelly didn't pry further, giving Clara's shoulder a sympathetic pat.

Immersing herself back into her work, Clara's mind kept drifting back to Julian's phone number. Halfway through, she opened her phone's contact list and saved the number, making sure she'd never lose the sticky note and find herself stranded without it.

The moment quitting time arrived, she happily boarded the subway heading home.

"Honey, did something make you extra happy today? You look like you're walking on air," her mother remarked, timing her arrival right as she walked through the door. She had just finished cooking dinner and wanted Clara to wash her hands and eat, only to be caught off guard by her daughter's beaming smile.

"You could say that," Clara answered vaguely.

"Want to share it with Mom?" her mother probed casually.

"Mom, what did you cook? It smells amazing." Knowing she couldn't share the real reason, Clara decided to pivot the topic.

"We have your favorite braised pork!" Her mother affectionately patted her daughter's head. "Go wash your hands quickly."

"You're the best, Mom."

Clara washed her hands meticulously like a good little girl, completely unaware that her mother was studying her closely.

As a mother, she knew her child inside and out. Her mother had noticed long ago that this year, her daughter carried an unusual, constant radiance, suddenly showing a deep passion for dressing up. She had bought plenty of high-end cosmetics and skincare products, picked out numerous new outfits, and cared about her appearance far more than ever before.

Every single change pointed heavily in the direction of romance.

Yet when she had asked her daughter point-blank if she was dating someone a while back, she had been met with a flat denial.

After washing up, Clara turned around only to run right into her mother's assessing gaze. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Mom, why are you staring at me like that?"

"Nothing." Her mother pointed toward the food on the dining table. "I'm going to pack a container of food and take it to the vegetable market for your dad later. I won't bother cleaning up—make sure you tidy the kitchen when you're done."

Her parents usually stayed late at their market stall, so Clara was well accustomed to this routine. "Got it, Mom."

After eating, washing the dishes, and tidying up the kitchen, she retreated to her bed, pulled up Julian's phone number from her phone, and gazed at it repeatedly, a smile pulling uncontrollably at the corners of her lips.

In the information-exploded internet era, the pros and cons were starkly obvious. The downside was that privacy had plummeted to near zero; anyone could dig up vast amounts of personal info on someone else just by catching a single trail of breadcrumbs. The flip side was that the reverse was just as true—if you wanted to check someone out, it was shockingly easy.

Back when she tracked Julian all the way to Yinteng Tower, she had casually plugged his name and Yinteng Group into an online search engine, instantly discovering that he was the new-generation head of Yinteng Group and the grandson of founder Chairman Vance.

Where should she search this time?

After a brief moment of thought, Clara opened the WeChat search bar.

She wondered: had Julian ever registered a WeChat account using this phone number?

Without harboring any real expectations, she copy-pasted the sequence and hit search.

To her utter shock, a profile picture featuring the Chinese character for "Heng" written in traditional calligraphy popped up instantly.

Chapter 4: The Friend Request

Wow, Julian had registered a WeChat account with that number!

And it was actually searchable!

Wide-eyed with a mix of shock and pleasant surprise, Clara felt a sudden flurry of emotions ripple through her heart.

Having lived in the shadows for so long, it was only natural to crave some form of direct contact.

Yet her social standing and status simply did not allow for any real intersection between their lives.

Hovering her fingertip tentatively over the "Add to Contacts" option, Clara forced herself to rein in her racing thoughts.

The employee handbook explicitly stated that property staff were strictly forbidden from harassing homeowners; once a homeowner filed a complaint, the employee faced immediate termination without severance.

However...

What if she added him using a fake identity?

Wouldn't that bypass the employee rule entirely?

Surely Julian wouldn't be so idle as to track down the person sending a friend request and investigate who was lurking behind the screen, right?

Besides, adding him as a friend didn't mean she was going to harass him!

She would just quietly browse his Moments and things like that.

Back and forth her mind wrestled, leaving Clara completely undecided.

There was also another problem: Julian might not necessarily accept a friend request from a stranger.

Staring intently at his profile picture for a long moment, she decided to check out his Moments first.

She wondered if he had enabled the privacy setting that restricted non-friends to viewing only his last ten posts?

Her hopes were instantly dashed. Tapping into Julian's Moments homepage revealed nothing but a flat, empty line, causing her to pout in bitter disappointment.

Next, she skillfully used the phone number to run searches across various major social platforms.

Alas, absolutely nothing came up.

Oh well, if it doesn't show up, it doesn't show up.

A second-generation elite sitting at the absolute peak of the pyramid was bound to place a heavy emphasis on privacy protection.

Even with all her frantic online digging in the past, she had never been able to unearth a single photograph of him, and information about him online was exceedingly scarce.

Though, a rumor circulated in a very tight, private circle—allegedly originating years ago from an internal employee at Yinteng Group—claiming that their newly appointed boss was outrageously handsome and exceptionally young.

Clara wholeheartedly agreed with that whispered rumor; Julian was indeed breathtakingly good-looking.

As for his age, she visually estimated that Julian couldn't be more than a few years older than her, putting him well under thirty.

Finishing up her online searches, Clara promptly dove straight into her online courses for upgrading her junior college degree to a bachelor's.

After graduating last year, she had been brutally beaten down by the job market, coming to the visceral realization that any formal company required a bachelor's degree as an absolute baseline. Even if she didn't want to raise her educational credentials, she had no choice if she wanted to make lateral job moves in the future.

Working as a property butler was not a career she could sustain for a lifetime.

In the blink of an eye, her next day off rolled around. Clara arrived right on time at the restaurant where she had agreed to meet Chloe.

Chloe had beaten her to the spot, and the table was already crowded with a battery of equipment.

"Are you shooting purely for video, or streaming while shooting?" Clara asked.

Unlike her, Chloe had graduated this year and chosen not to look for a traditional job, becoming a full-time restaurant-review vlogger.

"Pure shooting," Chloe said with a cheeky, confident smile. "And the merchant is treating us to this meal for free."

As a review vlogger whose most popular short-form video platform boasted over two hundred thousand followers, Chloe frequently received free collaboration invites from local restaurants due to her restaurant-rating niche.

"Awesome, that saves me a meal's worth of cash," Clara said happily.

"Look at you, all thrilled." Chloe pulled out her phone and texted a link to Clara. "I've got another free promotional review video to shoot in a few days at a high-end Japanese restaurant that runs about a thousand yuan per person. Want to come along?"

"Not a chance!" Clara flatly refused.

Once, when she was tracking Julian, she had grown curious about what the Japanese restaurant he frequented tasted like. Desperate to experience a slice of his daily life, she had splurged nearly half a month's salary there, only for the food to almost bring her to tears of regret—it tasted awful.

It was her first time ever eating high-end Japanese cuisine, and it left her with severe remorse.

"It's a thousand yuan per head! And it's free!" Chloe emphasized. "Haven't you ever tried it? Let me take you to broaden your horizons!"

"Already tried it. Not my thing—I can't stomach raw food."

"…Fine, suit yourself."

While the two chatted, the waiter began bringing out the dishes one after another.

Clara focused entirely on eating, while Chloe chattered away into the lens, reviewing and explaining the food as she bit into each dish.

After the meal, Chloe suggested, "Let's wander around the neighboring mall for a bit to walk off the food?"

"Sure, hold on a sec."

Seeing Clara pull out a tube of lipstick and a small mirror from her bag, applying the color with a level of intense, laser-like focus that felt entirely uncharacteristic of her former self, Chloe blinked rapidly in confusion. "Since when did you pick up such high-maintenance habits?"

"Applying lipstick gives you a healthy glow and makes you look energetic." Clara turned squarely toward Chloe, letting her properly inspect the vibrant enhancement the lipstick provided. "Doesn't this shade look great?"

She had only started dipping her toes into makeup this year, still lingering at the beginner's stage of the holy trinity: daily tone-up cream, eyebrow drawing, and lipstick, all in a bid to make herself look a bit prettier.

"Are you... kidding me?" Chloe scanned Clara up and down. "With bright red lipstick like that, if you put it on too thick, it makes you look mature and garish. Tone it down."

In her professional opinion, Clara possessed a textbook soft-featured aesthetic, meaning she wasn't suited for flashy, loud styling, nor should she plaster too many brightly colored cosmetics onto her face.

"Really?" Clara instantly began to doubt her own aesthetic judgment.

"Really." Chloe nodded emphatically. "Wipe it off."

"..." Clara silently reached for a tissue and rubbed the lipstick away.

Packing up her equipment, Chloe told the owner they were done shooting, then led Clara over to the nearby shopping mall.

The mall catered primarily to ordinary consumers, with item prices locked safely within a budget average people could afford. Clara browsed back and forth, but perhaps her tastes had elevated—she couldn't find a single thing that caught her eye.

"How about we head over to Stellar Plaza?" she asked, turning to look at Chloe, who was currently fidgeting with a small trinket.

"Wait, girl, did you strike it rich?" Chloe asked in astonishment. "Why are we going to Stellar Plaza again?"

Stellar Plaza was a luxury concentration camp exclusively built for the wealthy, where price tags looked like they didn't matter, trailing behind endless strings of zeros. They were both ordinary people with tightly capped incomes.

"The stuff there just looks better."

"…And the prices look even better."

"Even if we just look and don't buy, it's good for broadening our horizons." Even if she wanted to buy something, Clara couldn't afford it anymore anyway.

Chloe nodded. "Alright, fine."

They were already out anyway; wandering through one place was no different from another.

The moment they stepped through the main doors of Stellar Plaza, a wave of opulent extravagance hit them head-on. Chloe didn't feel particularly intimidated, but looking down at her own suddenly inadequate, budget-tier clothes, she sighed regretfully, "Why couldn't my reincarnation luck have been a little better?"

"My thoughts exactly." Clara figured her reincarnation luck wasn't entirely atrocious, just not quite good enough.

Entering the mall, Chloe followed right behind Clara just like last time.

Clara didn't step foot inside the boutiques; instead, she stood on the outside looking through the glass at the merchandise displayed in the display cases.

Curiosity piqued, Chloe asked, "Why aren't we going inside?"

Clara answered with brutal honesty, "I don't have the confidence. Saves me from getting side-eye from the clerks."

Store clerks spent every day dealing with wealthy clients; their gazes were razor-sharp, letting them sniff out a customer's purchasing power at a single glance. When she came here last time and gritted her teeth to buy a bag costing over ten thousand yuan, she had still caught plenty of snide looks from the staff.

"Fair point." Remembering the cold glares she had endured last time as well, Chloe let out a depressed breath. "When will I ever strike it rich? Is starting to buy lottery tickets every single day going to do the trick?"

"If you weren't born into it, it's pretty hard to get," Clara muttered. She wanted to strike it rich too, but the ceiling for ordinary people was so agonizingly low that even maintaining basic subsistence was a struggle. Blabbing about getting obscenely wealthy every day was no different from daydreaming.

"Right through the heart." Chloe put on an exaggerated, tearful pout before her attention was instantly hijacked by a wristwatch glowing inside a nearby display window. "Holy crap, am I seeing this right? Seven zeros?!"

"Yep, you're reading that right." Clara knew exactly which watch Chloe was staring at.

"That's enough to buy us two or three apartments," Chloe sighed in envy. "It must be nice to have money."

Clara remained silent, casting a sideways glance at the brand logo.

Vacheron Constantin.

Even the cheapest watch from that brand was completely out of reach for an ordinary person.

Standing right beside the display window now, gazing at the luxury item trapped behind the glass...

In truth, it felt remarkably similar to how she secretly watched Julian from the shadows—like an ordinary person coveting an outrageously expensive, gorgeous luxury item that was utterly unobtainable no matter how hard she tried, leaving her with no choice but to simply look and walk away.

Yet every time she thought about it, a surge of raw irritation bubbled up inside her.

Why couldn't Yinteng Group just collapse?

And then Julian would go bankrupt, forced to sell off everything at a heavy discount!

After sighing over the extravagant lifestyle of the rich, Chloe felt it was a bit awkward to keep camping out right in front of someone else's storefront. She nudged closer to Clara and whispered, "Let's switch shops, otherwise the clerks are gonna start—"

Mid-sentence, her gaze dropped downward, and she realized Clara wasn't staring at the watch at all—she was completely transfixed by her phone screen.

Driven by a natural instinct of curiosity, Chloe peeked over at Clara's mobile display.

The screen was parked squarely on a page showing that a stranger's WeChat account had been successfully found, featuring the option to send a friend request. Instantly, Chloe demanded, "Who's this?"

With her mind completely wrapped around everything concerning Julian, Clara had pulled out her phone instinctively, just like she had over the past few days, using his phone number to search his WeChat out of pure habit.

Even though that number yielded nothing else besides WeChat across the internet, the digital bridge made her feel so close to him—so close that a mere flick of her finger could grant her access to him. It meant she didn't have to hide like a thief when catching glimpses of him in the villa district, constantly terrified that he would recognize her face and catch her in the act of tracking him.

"Just..." Clara paused for a fraction of a second. "The person I like, like I told you before."

She had confessed to Chloe back when she first fell in love with Julian at first sight.

"Oh, him!" Since they had been best friends since elementary school, this was the first time Chloe had ever seen Clara take an interest in anyone, making it unforgettable. "Congrats on finally getting his contact info! But wait, why haven't you added him yet?"

Bound by deep self-awareness, Clara hadn't dared to reveal Julian's true identity.

After all, a chasm separated her and Julian; saying it out loud would sound like a common toad trying to eat swan meat, inviting mockery and making Chloe mistakenly assume Julian was just another ordinary guy.

"I..." Clara massaged her brow. "I'm afraid of disturbing him."

"What's there to be afraid of? You only get a start if you take the initiative! Who knows, it might actually work out!" Chloe offered her own hard-earned dating experience as advice. "Besides, managing to get his contact info in the first place takes real skill!"

Before she could finish, seeing Clara's hesitant expression, Chloe had zero patience for cold feet. With lightning-fast reflexes, she tapped a few times on Clara's screen, successfully completing the friend request dispatch, and declared, "What are you scared of? Just add him and be done with it!"

Staring at the newly changed interface on the screen, Clara froze in place.

Unaware of the massive historical milestone she had just triggered, Chloe kept dishing out advice: "Back in the day, that's exactly how I reeled my boyfriend in. Chasing a guy is as easy as piercing a layer of window paper!"

"This..." Clara suddenly lost her voice.

The request had already been sent; there was no taking it back now.

A sudden, dizzying wave of anticipation washed over her.

What if... what if Julian actually accepted a stranger's request?

Over the next several hours, Clara checked her WeChat every few minutes.

The result remained identical: absolute silence.

Until she returned home, realized her phone was running low on battery, plugged it in inside her bedroom, and stayed out in the living room to watch TV with her parents.

As the night grew late, her mother reminded her that she needed to wash up and go to sleep since she had work tomorrow. Clara rubbed her temples with a trace of lingering irritability.

She had been hit with two complaints by that sickening old man last week, bringing her total up to four for the month. Her pay was officially guaranteed to be docked by five hundred yuan, making her loathe this job more with every passing day—yet she couldn't afford to lose it.

Pulling her emotions back in line, Clara walked back to her bedroom to grab a change of clothes and get ready for bed.

Right before heading to the bathroom, she casually picked up her phone to sneak one last look for any new notifications.

The moment the screen lit up, a notification banner from WeChat popped into view.

Heng has accepted your friend request!