Chapter Sixty-Three: Money and Love

So that’s how it was. In Mo Shu’s eyes, the word “conditions” now appeared particularly harsh and glaring.

Conditions...

Was it possible that Liu Ting had left him all those years ago because of conditions?

Of course, everyone knows how important conditions are in relationships, but it depends on what kind of conditions we’re talking about.

Personal qualities? If Mo Shu’s own qualities were lacking, how could Liu Ting have been drawn to him in the first place?

Financial standing? Back then, they were both just high school students, with no source of income, and hardly any real concept of money or status. That didn’t seem like a key factor either.

Family background? At least Mo Shu’s parents were both educated people, earning steady salaries, neither rich nor poor. Moreover, in those days, the gap between rich and poor was nothing like it is now.

Wait—Liu Ting’s long talk with her parents? Could it have been about family finances after all?

Maybe Liu Ting didn’t understand these things in high school, but her parents certainly did. In terms of class, there probably wasn’t a single classmate whose parents stood higher than Liu Ting’s.

Mo Shu’s parents, on the other hand, were just salaried workers. He had a vague feeling that this was the real crux of the matter.

“So, your fiancé—is he ambitious? Does he have good ‘conditions’?” Mo Shu, though he had meant to end the conversation, couldn’t help probing the fragile side of human nature.

Suppressing a strong sense of impropriety and guilt, he pressed on. After all, Mo Shu was still thinking of Wang Yining—what if she ever saw this chat record? Even if he was innocent at heart, girls were so prone to wild imaginings.

“Roger? He’s wonderful.” Liu Ting’s words ended with a happy emoji.

“His father currently holds an important position. He worked his way up from a small mountain village. His mother doesn’t work anymore, thanks to her husband’s ample income; she now devotes herself to caring for the family—a typical housewife. Roger has a younger brother, though unfortunately he hasn’t amounted to much. He tried his hand at small business for a few years but failed, and now relies entirely on the family’s support.

“As for Roger himself, he came to Europe for his studies from an early age, majored in economics at university, and started his career as a junior employee. Now he’s already a director. The insurance business pays well, and we’ve already bought a house in Switzerland.” Every line from Liu Ting was saturated with a sense of superiority.

Mo Shu sat in silence, phone in hand, for a long time. At last, he understood, and he was certain now his earlier guess hadn’t been far off.

“Mo Shu, why aren’t you saying anything? Are you still there?” Liu Ting waited a long time, but no reply came.

“I’m here...”

“What’s wrong? You’re being so mysterious.”

“It’s nothing, I just dozed off for a moment.”

“Oh, you must be exhausted from your business trip.”

“Yeah, it’s been tiring. I’m sleepy and want to rest now. Let’s talk another time, all right?”

Now it was Liu Ting’s turn to go silent, not typing for quite a while.

“?” Mo Shu sent an emoji.

“All right then. Good night, Mo Shu.” Liu Ting replied quickly.

“Good night.”

Mo Shu tossed his phone aside, rolled onto his back, and stared at the ceiling, once again lost in thought.

Can love really be equated with money?

When Liu Ting talked about Roger and his family, she could hardly go a sentence without mentioning income—her father’s income, her brother’s income, Roger’s income.

It’s true, there’s nothing wrong with pursuing money—in fact, it’s the sensible thing to do. Mo Shu loved money, too. Without it, how could he build his racing team? Without money, his dreams would be nothing but empty words. No one can live without money.

But Mo Shu believed that, especially when it comes to love, too much focus on money taints the emotion—and he couldn’t accept that. Whenever he thought of Wang Yining, his mind was filled with words like attraction, sweetness, tenderness, mutual reliance—all about the connection between a man and a woman, all about love.

Why was it that, when Liu Ting spoke, it was always about income, cash, and status?

So, after all these years, her sudden departure had nothing to do with love.

Mo Shu laughed at her in regret, and at his own naivety. He pulled up the blanket and switched off the bedside lamp.

He didn’t go to bed late, and so, unusually, he didn’t sleep in the next morning. Before eight o’clock, he was already in the hotel dining room.

Service in Swiss hotels was meticulous. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all provided to the racing team’s specifications. Luckily, racing drivers rarely have to worry about “doping” issues; as long as the food doesn’t upset their stomachs, they’re fine—much better off than athletes in other sports, who face stricter checks.

“Hey, last night I think I heard you sneaking out of your room. Where did you go?” Wang Yining had, without Mo Shu noticing, appeared at his side.

“Heh, I just went to see the hotel lobby—and bumped into an old friend for a chat.” Mo Shu hadn’t planned to hide it from Wang Yining, but he phrased it a little more gently.

“Oh? An old friend? Was it a man or a woman?” Wang Yining grinned mischievously, wrinkling her nose as she teased him.

“A woman. A classmate from high school,” Mo Shu replied honestly.

“Oh really? A high school classmate? Did she chase you all the way to Switzerland?” Wang Yining pouted, feigning annoyance.

“Come on, as if! With my ‘conditions,’ what girl would be interested in me?” Mo Shu joked.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying my taste is terrible?” Wang Yining’s mock imperiousness was hard for anyone to parry.

“No, no...” Mo Shu put on a falsely earnest tone. “I just want you to be at ease, all right? Now, enough of that—let’s have breakfast. I saw the Swiss chef made fried dough sticks for us in the buffet area.”

“Fried dough sticks?” Wang Yining’s eyes lit up—her favorite breakfast. “Then there must be soy milk or soft tofu to go with them, right?”

At once, Wang Yining forgot all about Mo Shu’s run-in with his old classmate. She licked her lips and scampered off toward the fried dough sticks.

Mo Shu narrowed his eyes, following behind, inwardly mocking Wang Yining: What a foodie!

When Wang Yining returned to the table with six golden dough sticks, she saw that Mo Shu had already set out bowls, chopsticks, and plates for her, and was now carrying two big bowls of steaming hot soy milk, moving toward her with exaggerated care, step by step.

Seeing Mo Shu’s clumsy antics, Wang Yining squinted her eyes in amusement and thought to herself, Pighead!

“All right! Let’s eat!” Mo Shu said, shaking his hands to cool them from the heat.

“Haha, eating Chinese breakfast in Switzerland—what could be better?” Wang Yining hadn’t finished speaking before she bit into a fried dough stick with a satisfying crunch.

“Ding!” Just as Mo Shu picked up his chopsticks, a new message arrived on his phone. Who could be so eager at this hour?

“Mo Shu, you... you’re not a driver?” The sender was Liu Ting.

Oh no—she must have looked at his social media and seen photos of the racing team. Mo Shu quickly opened Liu Ting’s profile and hovered his finger over the “delete” button.

He sighed quietly, then pressed confirm.

“Who was that, so early?” Wang Yining asked, not even looking up as she devoured her breakfast.

“That classmate from yesterday.”

“Did she need something?”

“No. I deleted her. I don’t want to be in touch anymore.”

“That seems a bit harsh, doesn’t it? She’ll take it the wrong way.”

“It’s not as if it matters. I regret reconnecting with her yesterday anyway.”

“Oh...” Wang Yining raised her head from her bowl, blinking her eyes and drawing out the syllable.

“Come on, enough of that—eat up, or the soy milk will get cold, you foodie!”

“Tch, I can do as I please, pighead!”