"Where do you live?" she suddenly asked as we were on our way back to the city.
"In a residential area on the outskirts," I replied, focusing on the road, though I couldn't help wondering why she asked such a question. I glanced at her; her eyes glimmered with curiosity and excitement.
"Take me there," she continued, her tone firm, with an unspoken command.
"It's not really a place suited for you," I hesitated, thinking about the less-than-ideal environment. I feared she might not be comfortable there.
"Why not?" She furrowed her brows, clearly displeased with my answer.
"It's a bit chaotic," I said briefly, picturing the cluttered streets and crowded stalls.
"Where you can live, am I not allowed to see?" She shot me a challenging look, her tone filled with defiance.
Knowing her temper, I realized further argument was futile, so I fell silent. Inside, I thought, If you want to see it, just go ahead. It doesn't matter to me.
The car turned into the street where my rental was located, with open-air stalls lining both sides, selling vegetables and snacks, filling the air with the mixed aromas of fresh produce and street food. I maneuvered the car carefully, always cautious of children darting across the road.
"This place is quite lively!" She chuckled, her voice laced with a hint of teasing.
"Yes, quite lively indeed," I replied with a resigned smile, maintaining my focus on the road.
Fortunately, my landlord's building had a spacious yard, perfect for parking, which was one of the reasons I chose it. I parked the car, unbuckled my seatbelt, and said to her,"Let's go."
She stepped out, surveying her surroundings. A flicker of disdain and curiosity passed across her face."This is where you live?" She asked, her tone tinged with surprise.
"Yeah, the rent's affordable, and it's not too far from the office," I shrugged, offering a weary explanation.
"I can't believe you'd live in a place like this," she shook her head, as though struggling to accept it.
"Life's demanding," I said with a wry smile, though inwardly I felt a pang of discomfort. Her reaction made me feel awkward.
"Come on, take me upstairs," she waved her hand, signaling me to lead the way.
"At least it's somewhere to live," I couldn't suppress the edge in my voice. When I returned here, I'd just caught sight of the court's notice to seize the villa. The scene that day was still fresh in my mind—standing with my family outside the villa, the cold wind sweeping through the leaf-strewn courtyard, adding to the desolation. When we left, we had only the clothes on our backs. We had nothing, not even a place to stay. The court had arranged temporary housing for us. Our cards were frozen, and our family's assets didn't exceed two thousand dollars, which also included the thousand or so I had on me. At that moment, I was lost, as if the whole world had collapsed. If it weren't for Elena Carter's father, who had arranged for my dad to work at his company, we probably wouldn't even have been able to rent a place after the transition period.
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I led her into my room, and the noise from the neighboring shop seeped through the walls. It was unbearably loud, as if mocking our misfortune. I felt embarrassed as I stood by the door after opening it, watching her step inside the small apartment, scanning every corner. I noticed her brow furrow slightly—a clear sign of distaste.
"Alright, you've seen it. Let's go," I said, trying to mask my discomfort.
"The environment here is awful, but the room's bearable," she said, turning to head downstairs.
I muttered under my breath,"If you want to mock it, just do it openly. I'm already a fallen man, I don't care what others think." I followed her downstairs, my mind tangled with conflicting thoughts. She got into the car, silent, as though already planning her next move. I couldn't help but ask,"Are you heading to the office or the hotel?"
She replied coldly,"Go find a real estate agent."
I was momentarily startled, thinking she was offering to help me find a place to live, and I felt a flicker of gratitude. But soon, I realized I had misinterpreted her words."Why would you need that?" I asked.
"I need to live somewhere. Am I supposed to stay in hotels forever?" she answered, her tone laced with impatience, but also a firm resolve, as if she had already made up her mind.
I nodded, though a sense of melancholy lingered in my heart. The car moved slowly, and I noticed a real estate office on the side of the road. I parked the car and said,"Here's one."
We entered the office, where a young man in a suit and tie greeted us, looking the picture of professionalism. He smiled and asked,"Are you looking to rent or buy?"
"Rent," I replied, glancing at her to indicate she should outline the specific requirements.
Without hesitation, she said,"A three-bedroom apartment, with a good neighborhood, safe, fully renovated, with high-quality appliances—not the typical ones found in rental properties, and it must have convenient parking." She listed her demands in one breath, and I couldn't help but inwardly admire her. As expected of a business owner, the standards for this apartment would not come cheap.
The young man nodded, his expression shifting to one of expertise, as he said,"It seems you have refined tastes, miss. We have just the place. The landlord has a new apartment, originally intended for his son's marriage. However, the newlyweds moved abroad after the wedding, and the apartment has been left vacant since. All the furniture and appliances are brand new, and there's even a parking space. Since it's a wedding home, everything is of much higher quality than typical rental properties. However, the rent is a bit higher, and the landlord prefers a one-year lease, not short-term rentals."
She immediately asked,"How much?"
"The annual rent is 40,000, with a 5,000 deposit. Of course, the deposit is refundable, as long as there's no damage," the agent explained. I couldn't help but sneer inwardly; whether or not the deposit was refunded was ultimately up to the landlord.
She suddenly turned to face the young agent and asked,"When can we see the apartment?"
The agent, a young man in a crisp suit, wore a professional smile."We have the key code, so it's available now," he replied, his tone confident.
She nodded, her gaze resolute."Alright, let's go see it now." Clearly, she had already made up her mind, and there was no trace of hesitation in her voice.
I stood to the side, watching her decisiveness with some admiration. She was always like this—swift and efficient, never wasting time.
"Then lead the way," she said, turning towards the door.
The agent seemed pleased with her resolve, and his smile deepened."Certainly. May I ask if you'd like to take our car, or will you be driving yourselves?"
She glanced at me, and I shrugged."Let's take your car. Is it far?"
"Not too far. It's about two kilometers toward the economic district," the agent replied casually.
Under his guidance, we arrived at the Silverbrook Gardens complex. The rent here was on the higher end for the area, which explained the steep price. The car entered the underground parking lot, and we found a vacant spot to park. We made our way to Building 7, and the agent pressed the button for the 16th floor. I checked the elevator panel—it had a total of 30 floors. The 16th floor seemed good; the view should be nice.