When Ryan was still a poor young man, I loved him.
I helped him sue his abusive, alcoholic stepfather. I pulled him out of that damp, crumbling house and the life that felt like a dead end. I treated the wounds on his back and believed-always-that one day he would have a future.
I wasn't University A's dazzling "white rose." I was the girl who ate instant noodles with him, who wore a ring worth a few hundred yuan instead of a diamond. I stayed by his side as he rose from nothing to become a powerful businessman.
Ten years after our wedding, I went to his class reunion to pick him up.
The hall was loud with laughter. I stood at the door and watched him in the crowd.
Someone joked, "President Ryan is blessed-once poor, now married to University A's most beautiful white rose."
He laughed, his arm wrapped around his young intern's slim waist.
"A white rose?" he said lightly.
"Too bad she's... old now."
