When the Contract Expired, She Chased Me to My Hometown

The contract's up. Here's the access card and the car keys. I set the two items side by side on the cold marble coffee table, and they clinked sharply.

On the sofa, Lorraine didn't even look up at me. Her eyes stayed on the English document for her cross-border merger, and she only let out a faint "mm" through her nose.

"I've moved all my things out. Just one suitcase," I said.

She finally turned a page, her tone perfectly flat. "Noted. The final payment's already been sent to your card. We're squaregoods delivered, money paid."

Those wordsgoods delivered, money paidwere like four cold needles driven into my eardrums.

I turned around, dragged the old suitcase that had been with me for three years, and walked toward the door. No goodbye, no looking back.

The moment the door closed, I took out my phone, found the contact labeled "Landlord," pressed and held it, chose "Delete Contact," and in the confirmation box that popped up I tapped "Delete" without a second's hesitation, then went ahead and switched on "Add to Blocklist."

All in one smooth motion.

Goodbye, Lorraine. Goodbye to these three years I sold off.

01.

Three days later, I got back to my old home in the countryside.

When I pushed open that creaking wooden door, what greeted me wasn't my mother's warm hug but a solid kick to my shin.

"You rotten little wretch! Whose girl did you do wrong by? She's chased all the way to our house!" Mom stood with her hands on her hips, her face full of fury, her voice loud enough to rattle the tiles off the roof.

The kick sent me stumbling, my head buzzing, and I had no idea what was going on.

Whose girl had I wronged?

For three years I'd played Lorraine's "husband," living like a glorified housekeeper. Forget a girlI hadn't so much as taken a second look at a female mosquito.

Three years ago, my father's leg was crushed when a falling steel bar hit him at a construction site, and it developed a serious infection. He urgently needed three hundred thousand for surgery. For a family like ours, which couldn't even scrape together thirty thousand, that was an astronomical sum.

I ran to every relative we had, but everything I managed to borrow didn't even cover a fraction of it. All I got were sighs and averted eyes.

Just when I was out of options and about to sign that extremely risky clinical drug trial agreement, Lorraine found me.

At the time, she'd just taken over the family business and her position was shaky. She needed a "married" status to fend off the union her family had arranged, and she needed a clean, obedient "husband" to shut up those old men on the board of directors.

Our agreement was simple. I'd play her husband for three years, live in her villa, and accompany her to all the necessary family and business occasions. In return, she would cover all of my father's medical expenses, and once the three-year agreement was up, she'd give me another five hundred thousand as compensation.

The agreement had one clause in bold: Party B (myself, Colin Harding) shall not develop any feelings toward Party A (Lorraine Fox) beyond those stipulated in the contract, nor interfere with any part of Party A's private life.

I signed. I traded three years of my youth for my father's health.

For those three years, I did my job faithfully.

Her four-hundred-square-meter villa was always kept spotless by me. She had a thing about cleanliness and didn't like outsiders, so all the housework fell to me. From wiping every crystal drop on the chandelier to ironing her hundreds of shirts in all their different fabrics, I did it more carefully than any housekeeper would have.

Her stomach was bad, and it always ached after she drank at business functions. I taught myself to make all sorts of gentle healing broths, so no matter how late she came home, there was always a bowl of hot soup waiting in the thermal pot in the kitchen.

When she had to attend business dinners, I was her most presentable escort, taking her drinks for her, handling those slimy business partners on her behalf, smiling as I accepted everyone scrutinizing and sizing up her "husband"even when those looks were full of contempt, calling me a pretty-boy kept man living off a woman.

Once, the wife of Mr. Lambert, a major partner of the company, heard some gossip somewhere and pointed right at my face and cursed me in public at a cocktail party, saying I was a worthless man who'd gotten ahead by leaning on a woman.

Lorraine just frowned at the time, feeling I'd cost her face.

It was me who took a wine glass, walked up to Mrs. Lambert calm and unbowed, and said with a smile, "Mrs. Lambert, my wife's ability is plain for the whole industry to see. Her success is her own doing, not anyone else's. As for me, it's my honor to be the man behind her. Let me toast youto my wife having such an excellent partner as your husband."

Those few words protected Lorraine's face and flattered Mr. Lambert at the same time, and the whole disturbance quietly dissolved.

Afterward, Lorraine only said flatly, "Sharp enough."

No praise, no thanks.

She took everything I gave for granted, because it was part of the agreement. I was a commodity with a price tag on it.

Once, I had a bad cold with a fever of thirty-nine degrees, and lay weak and drained in the little room on the second floor of the villa. I texted her to say I probably wouldn't be able to make dinner.

She replied with just two words: Order in.

That night, listening to her and her younger brother Clifford laughing cheerfully over dinner downstairs, smelling the pizza takeout, wrapped up in my blanket, I felt that four-hundred-square-meter mansion was as cold as an icehouse.

I never longed for her feelings; I was only carrying out a contract.

But a human heart isn't a machine. Even the coldest stone, held for three years, should have picked up a little warmth. But Lorra

Lorraine Fox's younger brother, Clifford Fox, was a spoiled rich heir, and in these three years, he had been the most hostile presence toward me.

After graduating from college, he did nothing at all and would come stay at the mansion every few days. He looked down on me to the very bone, and he showed that contempt in the most blatant way possible.

"Hey, you there, pour me a glass of water. Make it iced." He sat on the sofa with his legs crossed, playing a video game, ordering me around without even turning his head.

I set the glass down by his hand, and he didn't so much as say "thanks."

The shoes he kicked off, he flung by the entryway, waiting for me to come pick them up and wipe them clean. The snack bags he emptied, he dropped on the carpet, waiting for me to come clean them up.

I was like a servantno, worse than a servant. The cleaning lady in the complex, he would at least politely call "Auntie." To me, it was always "Hey" or "you there."

It wasn't that I hadn't brought it up with Lorraine.

One time, Clifford brought friends home in the middle of the night for a party. The music was earsplitting, and the whole living room was a fog of smoke, bottles and food scraps everywhere. I got up at five the next morning to clean it, or Lorraine would blow up when she saw it.

I went to Lorraine and said tactfully, "Clifford's still young, and wanting to have fun is only natural, but could he be a little more considerate? Throwing a party in the middle of the night looks bad, and besides"

She cut me off, adjusting her silk scarf as she spoke. "He's still a kid. Cut him some slack. Besides, you live hereisn't cleaning part of what you're supposed to do anyway? Just think of it as an advance on your workload."

"That's not what I meant. I meant"

"Colin," she said, calling me by my full name for the first time, her eyes cold, "remember who you are. Don't meddle in things that aren't your concern."

In that moment, I understood completely. In this house, I had no say at all. Clifford was her own brother, and I was just an outsider paid to do a job.

The conflict came to a head because of a shirt.

It was the only shirt I owned that cost more than five hundred. My mom bought it for my twenty-fifth birthday, with money she'd saved up for a long time. I could never bring myself to wear it day to dayonly when I went back home.

That day, for whatever reason, Clifford lost it. His corgi peed on the carpet, and rather than clean it up, he just grabbed the shirt I'd hung to dry on the balcony and threw it on the floor to wipe up the pee.

By the time I found it, the white shirt was covered in yellow stains, giving off a sharp, foul stench.

I clenched my fists, the fury in my chest almost bursting out. I rushed into the living room, where Clifford was playing a video game with his headphones on.

I yanked his headphones off.

"What did you do?" My voice shook with anger.

He lazily lifted his eyelids. "Oh, you mean that ratty old shirt? Used it to wipe up dog pee. So what? If it's dirty, just toss it. I'll have my sister buy you ten more later."

"That's my shirt!"

"Your shirt?" He scoffed and stood up. Half a head taller than me, he looked down at me. "Colin, get this straight. The place you live, the food you eat, the clothes and everything you usewhich one of them is yours? Including youmy sister bought you too! It's just a ratty shirt. Who are you to yell at me?"

"You have to apologize to me!" I said, one word at a time.

"Apologize?" He looked like he'd heard the biggest joke in the world. "Apologize to you? Are you even worth it?"

And with that, he reached out to shove my shoulder.

The anger I'd held back for three years finally erupted in that instant. I grabbed his wrist, twisted it around, and pinned him to the sofa.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Clifford screamed in pain.

Just then, Lorraine came home.

When she saw the scene, her face darkened at once.

"Colin, stop!"

I let go. Clifford immediately scrambled up and ran to his sister to tattle. "Sis! Look at him! He dared to hit me! A freeloading kept man dared to hit me!"

I looked at Lorraine, hoping she would at least ask what had happened.

But she didn't.

She just looked at me coldly, her eyes full of disappointment and disgust. "Colin, you've disappointed me so much. No matter how immature Clifford is, he's still my brother. Laying a hand on him means you don't respect me at all."

"He's the one who used my shirt to wipe up dog pee first!" I explained.

"It's just a shirt." Lorraine's tone was offhand, exactly as I'd expected. "How much? I'll pay you back. Clifford, apologize to him."

Clifford muttered grudgingly, "Sorry, okay?"

That apology was pure going-through-the-motions and mockery.

Lorraine went on, "This ends here. Colin, as punishment for getting physical, half of this month's living allowance is docked. If there's a next time, you get out of this house."

She led Clifford upstairs, fussing over him with concern, as if he were the one who'd been hurt.

I stood alone in the empty living room, looking at the ruined shirt, and felt my heart turn cold inch by inch.

So it turned out that my dignity, and my mother's love, were worth no more than half a living allowance in her eyes.

What truly made up my mind, made me unwilling to stay a single second longer, was my father's illness.

His leg had been saved by the surgery, but it left him with lasting complications, and he needed to take an imported anti-rejection drug long-term. That drug was very expensive, more than five thousand a month, and it wasn't covered by insurance.

For the past three years, apart from the fixed "living allowance" Lorraine gave me, I'd had no income at all. Out of that allowance, on top of daily expenses, I lived as frugally as I could and quietly set aside two thousand every month. Combined with what my mother earned from odd jobs, it was barely enough to cover my father's medication.

Two months before the agreement was set to expire, my mother called, her voice frantic. "Son, your father's leg has been hurting badly lately. The doctor examined him and said the old medicine has stopped working, that he needs to switch to one that's more effective but also more expensivetwelve thousand a month."

Twelve thousand a month. That's nearly a hundred and fifty thousand a year.

The figure was like a mountain, crushing down until I couldn't breathe.

The money I'd saved, plus the five hundred thousand Lorraine would give me when the agreement ended, seemed like a lot, but to cover my father's medication for the rest of his life, it was nowhere near enough.

For the first time, I brought something up with Lorraine myself.

That evening, for once she had no business engagements and was eating at home. I set the soup in front of her, hesitated a long time, and finally forced the words out. "Lorraine, I... I want to talk something over with you."

She stirred the soup with her spoon, not even looking up. "Go ahead."

"My father's condition... he needs to change medications, and it's very expensive. I was wondering if... could I get an advance on part of the remaining payment under our agreement?" The words came out utterly humble, and I felt like a beggar.

She finally raised her head, a hint of scrutiny in her eyes. "An advance? How much?"

"Two hundred thousandno, a hundred and fifty thousand would be enough." I said it quickly. "I'll write you an IOU, and when the agreement expires, deduct it from the five hundred thousand."

Lorraine set down her spoon, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her armsa textbook negotiating stance.

"Colin, the agreement we made back then was written very clearly. The final payment is settled in one lump sum after the term ends. There are still two months to go, and you want me to advance it to you?"

"My dad's situation is urgent"

"That's your problem, not mine." She cut me off coldly. "I'm only responsible for fulfilling the contract. I'm under no obligation to cover your family's extra circumstances. Ours is a contractual relationship, not poverty relief."

My heart sank to the very bottom.

"But... over these three years, has everything I've done for you really been nothing but a cold contract?" I couldn't help asking. "I took care of your daily life, and when you were sick"

"That's your job." She interrupted again, a trace of impatience in her voice. "Every single thing you've done is already included in that money. You think it's not enough?"

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug deep into my flesh.

"Lorraine, just... just consider it me begging youlend it to me, all right? I promise I'll pay it back."

She was silent for a moment, as if thinking it over.

Just when I thought she was about to give in, her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, and her expression softened instantly. It was her younger brother, Clifford.

"Hey, Clifford? ...What? You've got your eye on a sports car? ...Eight hundred thousand? You just got your licensedriving a car that nice is too showy... All right, all right, stop whining, your sister will buy it for you. We'll go pick it up tomorrow, call it a graduation present."

After she hung up, the smile still lingered on her face.

An eight-hundred-thousand sports car, and she'd agreed without blinking an eye.

And meall I wanted was an advance on money that was already mine, to save my father's life, and she'd humiliated me like this.

She shot me a glance, as if only now remembering I was still there.

"If there's nothing else, go on out. Don't spoil my mood while I'm eating." She picked up her spoon again, as if the conversation just now had been nothing more than a trivial little interlude.

I stood there, not moving.

In that moment, I heard something inside me shatter completely. It was my dignity, my illusions, and the last shred of the unrealistic hope I'd held out for her.

I said nothing, and quietly withdrew from the dining room.

That night I called my mother. I said, "Mom, leave the money to me. I'll figure it out. Tell Dad not to worry."

After I hung up, I opened my phone and started searching online for any kind of day-pay work. Food delivery, driving for a ride-hailing app, moving jobs... as long as the money came fast, I was willing to do it, no matter how hard or exhausting.

I couldn't count on anyone anymore.

I started spinning like a top, running nonstop.

During the day, I was still Lorraine's dutiful "househusband." I cleaned, prepared meals, and kept the villa in perfect order.

At night, once Lorraine had gone to sleep, or when she didn't come home at all, I slipped out.

I signed up for a ride-hailing app, put on plain old clothes, and rode a secondhand electric bike through the city's bright lights.

I picked up drunken rich businessmen. They'd throw up in the car, and I'd have to swallow my disgust and clean it up, and then get docked a few dozen dollars for the cleaning fee.

I picked up young women getting off work late at night. They'd quietly call their families from the back seat to let them know they were safe. That warmth stood in sharp contrast to my situation.

I also picked up middle-aged men like me, scraping by to get through life. We'd chat wearily for a few minutes while waiting at a red light, sighing that life was hard.

One time, the destination of my ride-hailing trip turned out to be an upscale club owned by Lorraine's company.

I parked the car and was about to leave when I saw Lorraine walk out with a group of people. She wore a sharp black suit and moved in the center of them like a star surrounded by admirers, radiating a powerful presence.

I instinctively pulled my hat brim down and hid behind a pillar.

I saw a man attentively open the car door for her. She gave a slight nod and got in. I knew that manhe was the head of another company, and he'd been pursuing her lately.

She didn't refuse.

My heart was strangely calm. Maybe I was just numb.

All I could think about was hurrying to my next fare. There was still a long way to go for my father's medicine bills.

After more than half a month of staying up night after night, my body finally rebelled.

That afternoon, I was making dinner in the kitchen when the world suddenly spun, everything went black, and I knew nothing more.

When I came to, I found myself lying in the small room on the second floor. On the nightstand were a glass of water and a box of fever reducers.

Lorraine had found me and helped me back to my room.

I struggled to get up, and she pushed the door open and came in.

It was the first time in three years she had set foot in my room. She glanced around the pitifully small spaceapart from a bed and a wardrobe, there was nothing. Something complicated flickered in her eyes, but it was gone in an instant.

"You have a fever." She handed me the thermometer. "The doctor came and looked you over. He said it was from overwork. What have you been doing lately?"

I didn't answer, taking the thermometer in silence.

"Colin, I'm asking you a question." Her tone slid back into that condescending, commanding manner.

"Nothing much," I said flatly.

My attitude seemed to anger her. "Nothing much? Then tell me, why do you come home in the middle of the night every night reeking of sweat? Are you out there sleepwalking?"

So she'd known all along.

"I've been driving for a ride-hailing app," I admitted outright.

"Ride-hailing?" She acted like she'd heard something unbelievable, then let out a cold laugh. "Short on money? Isn't the allowance I give you enough? Or are you trying to squeeze out a little extra before the agreement ends?"

Her guesses cut like knives.

"My dad's medicine costs twelve thousand a month," I said, looking at her, spelling it out word by word. "The allowance you give me isn't enough."

Lorraine froze.

She probably hadn't expected that to be the reason.

A long silence settled over the room, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner.

It was a long while before she finally spoke, her voice a little dry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I laughed, a bleak sort of laugh. "I did tell you. I begged you to advance the final payment, and you said that was my problem, not yours."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Ms. Fox," I said, deliberately switching how I addressed her, "I haven't neglected a single duty in the agreement. During the day, I'm still your 'husband.' At night, I earn money with my own strength to buy my father's medicine, and that doesn't violate our agreement. You don't need to worry."

My distance and coldness made her very uncomfortable.

She frowned. "Do you have to talk to me like this? Fine, quit the ride-hailing, it's humiliating. I'll cover your dad's medicine."

Her tone was like she was handing out charity.

"No need." I refused, and sat up. "The agreement expires in half a month. For these two weeks, I'll stand my last watch. After that, neither of us will owe the other a thing."

"Colin!" She seemed genuinely angry now. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you sulking at me?"

I ignored her, threw off the covers, got out of bed, and staggered toward the kitchen. "Dinner isn't ready yet. You must be hungry."

My compliance left her more helpless than any argument could.

She watched my retreating back, and for the first time in this home, she felt out of control.

The day the contract expired, the sky was clear and bright.

As agreed, I restored everything to the way it had been before I arrived. The mansion was spotless, and all her belongings were sorted and put away in their proper places.

I set the key card and the car keys on the coffee table and pulled along my empty suitcaseit had been full when I came, but it was empty when I left, because in those three years I had hardly bought a single thing of my own.

The final payment of five hundred thousand came through exactly five minutes before I left, right on time.

Not one word of goodbye.

I walked out of that lavish cage that had trapped me for three years, breathed in the free air outside, and felt lighter than I ever had.

I boarded the old, slow long-distance train home. The clacking of the wheels sounded like a funeral dirge for the years behind me.

Watching the scenery rush backward past the window, I turned over my future in my mind. With this money, I'd buy my parents a small house in the county town back home, open a little shop, and live a steady, peaceful life.

Not bad at all.

But every plan I had was smashed to pieces the moment I pushed open the doorby my mother's kick.

"You worthless brat! What girl did you do wrong? She's come all the way to our house looking for you!"

The scolding left me completely lost, baffled. For three years I'd lived more chaste than a monkwhere would a "girl" have come from?

"Mom, what are you talking about? Who's here?" I asked, frowning, steadying myself against my sore shin where she'd kicked me.

"Go in and see for yourself!" My mother's face was red with anger as she pointed into the yard.

Full of doubt, I pushed open the courtyard gate.

In the yard, my father was sitting with a woman on a little folding stool, rubbing his hands uneasily, not knowing what to say.

The woman was dressed in an expensive Chanel suit, with Jimmy Choo heels on her feet, completely out of place in our yellow-earth courtyard.

Hearing the noise, she slowly turned her head.

That icy face I'd looked at for three years, carved into my very bones, now carried a trace of barely perceptible panic and helplessness.

I was completely stunned, frozen where I stood as if struck by lightning.