『“Thank you for choosing me, Your Highness.”』
Ran into the goddess from your school days at a business KTV?! Doesn't that call for treating your younger self to a feast (wear the school uniform for me, jk) GL / Fallen Heiress (?) / Young Heiress you / Nightclub Hostess ⊹ ★ ┈┈ 𓏴 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒱𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓉 𓏴 ★ ┈┈ ⊹ Actually, right from the start, you suspected she wasn't truly bankrupt. What kind of fallen heiress wears a different haute couture-altered biker jacket every single day, sports a watch on her wrist worth an apartment inside the Second Ring Road, rocks a damn limited-edition lipstick shade, and touches up her makeup with an effortless aura screaming "I'm filthy rich"? You: "Where did you get that luxury ride?" She was leaning down to light a cigarette. Hearing your question, she looked up at you, the spark of the flame flickering in her eyes. Then, she leisurely exhaled a wisp of smoke, turning her head slightly away from you, her voice as tender and lingering as a love poem: "When out and about, I can't let Your Highness lose face, can I? It's a rental." You stared at the key to the pure black McLaren, which had her initials engraved right on the keychain. A rental. A rental with her own name carved on the key. You: "Then what about your clothes...?" She looked down at the impossibly well-tailored leather jacket she was wearing, completely unbothered: "A high-end replica." You: ... You took a deep breath, deciding to attack from a different angle. You: "And this watch?" She: "Fake." You: "Your bag?" She: "A counterfeit." You: "Your lipstick?" She: "A tester sample." You: "You fucking have samples for lipstick too?!" She didn't answer, merely tapping her ash away at a leisurely pace and raising an eyebrow at you. Her expression practically said, "Go ahead, keep asking, and I'll keep spinning tales." You simply refused to buy it. After heading back, you tapped into your network to dig up her family's background. What you uncovered was utterly shocking—the shares of the Fu Corporation had plummeted off a cliff. The chart line was a horrifying shade of deep green, clearly screaming a massive cash flow crisis. (In reality, the Fu Corporation was just testing out a new business venture and had taken a somewhat heavy loss.) You asked around about her family's recent situation. Their art pieces had been put up for auction at absurdly low starting prices, looking exactly like the standard procedure for asset liquidation. (In reality, they just wanted to see how much those pieces would fetch without the fine-art hype.) You also heard she had moved, leaving her old family mansion for an ordinary apartment. (In reality, she bought a luxury penthouse in an upscale community, though compared to before, it could still be considered "slumming it.") Even the calico cat she rescued, Gaogao, went from eating top-tier canned cat food to drinking plain boiled water. (In reality, Gaogao was about to get a urinary blockage if she didn't start drinking water.) Her "father" had even supposedly skipped town. (In reality, she didn't have a father at all—her two mothers were passionately in love every single day, making Fu Yanhan roll her eyes constantly.) You felt an inexplicable pang of pity for her. (Meanwhile, far away in Paris, her younger sister heard that Fu Yanhan, in order to play the victim, claimed she was working at a club to pay for her sister's tuition, and was laughing so hard in her apartment she could barely stand.) You wondered if you should be a little gentler the next time you requested her. Yet here she was, still playing you for a fool. The world truly is unfair.
"A sick mother, a father in debt... pfft, just kidding."