Chapter 42 Part 1

Ever since getting drunk that day, Lu Yao had thrown herself into work nonstop. She kept telling herself that she didn’t really like Shen Zhirou all that much—it was just habit. In time, the ache in her heart would fade on its own. But that was merely wishful thinking; reality proved entirely different. Whenever she had a free moment, Shen Zhirou would drift into her thoughts, especially at home. That was the main reason she hadn’t wanted to return all week.

Lu Yao touched the spot over her heart. It still hurt, a dull, clogged pain. Shen Zhirou was just her arranged marriage partner—why did being apart feel so agonizing? Lu Yao couldn’t make sense of it.

More than five years had passed since her last time with Wen Jin, and Lu Yao had all but forgotten the sting of Wen Jin ending things unilaterally. There must have been sadness and anger back then, enough to keep her from dating anyone for years afterward, terrified of getting hurt again. Yet this time, she hadn’t even been in a real relationship. So why did it hurt so much?

Shen Zhirou’s words—”Miss Lu”—were branded into her mind. Just recalling them sent an inexplicable pang through her chest. Lu Yao didn’t dare dwell on it. She undid the top few buttons of her shirt, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

It was nearly ten at night when Lu Yao finally made it home. The house lay in pitch darkness as she opened the door. The person who used to wait for her in the living room was gone. No one would take her bag or brush a kiss against her lips at this hour.

She gave a wry, self-mocking smile and poured herself a glass of red wine to help her sleep. These past few nights, she couldn’t drift off without one. The pale red liquid slid slowly over the rim and onto her lips. Lu Yao’s cheeks flushed as she picked up her phone and opened her WeChat chat with Shen Zhirou. It had been days since that drunken night—no messages sent either way.

Lu Yao grabbed the wine glass from the side table and downed most of it in one gulp. It wasn’t enough. She poured herself another generous measure and settled onto the sofa, sipping while staring at the chat interface.

After the last swallow, her vision grew hazy. The corners of her eyes reddened, giving her the look of a neglected little kitten. She slumped lazily against the cushions, gazing at her phone with a wronged expression, and murmured to the screen, “Jie Jie, it’s been a whole week since you last talked to me. I miss you a little. Can I call you?”

Her stare turned unfocused as she added, “You’re not saying anything, so I’ll take that as a yes. Do you miss me too?”

The flush on her cheeks deepened. Lu Yao was normally so disciplined that she rarely drank, even at business dinners—her tolerance was poor. The wine had rushed straight to her head. Fighting a wave of dizziness, she staggered toward the bedroom while dialing Shen Zhirou. One ring… two…

Lu Yao called four or five times, but it went unanswered each time. Hurt washing over her, she burrowed under the covers. She wasn’t sure if it was the wine burning in her chest or the ache already there, but soft sobs escaped her lips. She listened over and over to the automated “no answer” message, not even realizing when sleep finally claimed her.

On Saturday morning, the sound of the front door opening jolted Lu Yao awake. Her head throbbed faintly from the wine. Once she confirmed the noise was real, she bolted out barefoot, heart brimming with grievance and a flicker of hope. Was it Shen Zhirou, worried enough to come back?

Smile lighting her face, Lu Yao flung open the door—only to find her parents at the entryway, slipping off their shoes. Her expression froze; her fingers clenched the doorknob white-knuckled. Of course. Shen Zhirou had called her “Miss Lu.” Why on earth would she return?

Zhang Huichun spotted her daughter barefoot and fussed immediately. “Yaoyao, hurry and put on some slippers—you’ll catch a chill. And what’s that smell? Have you been drinking?”

“Mm.” Lu Yao responded irritably, retreating to slip on her slippers and throw a thin robe over her sleepwear before rejoining them in the living room. “What brings you here?”

“We’ve been calling, but you hardly pick up. Your dad and I got worried. Drinking alone like this? Has she really left?” A smile tugged at Zhang Huichun’s lips, though she forced it down before her daughter could notice.

“Yeah, she moved out.” Lu Yao leaned against the wall for support, feeling utterly drained.

“Good riddance. At your age, eligible men and women are a dime a dozen. You’ll have no trouble finding someone better.” Zhang Huichun couldn’t resist pressing the point.

“You and Dad don’t need to worry about this anymore, and stop setting up blind dates for me. I won’t go to any of them from now on. I’m going to take a shower. You two do whatever you want.” Lu Yao felt deeply irritated. She had barely kept her temper in check while speaking. Shen Zhirou breaking things off with her—and that IOU her parents had drawn up—had both acted as triggers, hadn’t they?

“Yaoyao, don’t think like that…”

Zhang Huichun wanted to say more, but Lu Jitong held her back. “Don’t push it,” he advised. “The girl’s still fuming and in a foul mood. We’ll talk about it in a few days.”

Zhang Huichun nodded.

Meanwhile, Shen Zhirou was holed up in her rental apartment. She had bought her own place, but the mortgage payments were steep, not to mention her day-to-day expenses. She wondered if she should apply for a transfer to another department at the company. Their office was basically a sinecure—no bonuses, no commissions, just coasting.

She had dodged most of Ning Jianfang’s calls over the past few days and ignored every one from Lu Yao. Thinking back, ever since their clarifying talk at the company gates, Lu Yao had barely reached out all week—no calls, no WeChat messages. Last night had been the exception: five or six missed calls, plus several voice messages she hadn’t bothered to open.

That afternoon, Zhao Tongtong—worried about her frame of mind—had invited her out to a movie. Shen Zhirou had gently turned her down. She felt bone-tired and wanted nothing more than to rest in her rental.

Zhao Tongtong wasn’t faring much better herself. Ever since her blowout fight with Wei Xuan, he had started coming home later and later. Even on Saturday, she had no idea where he was. When she called to ask, he claimed he was pulling overtime at the office.

It was nearly eleven when Wei Xuan finally dragged himself home that night. Zhao Tongtong had left dinner warming for him in the kitchen. Sure, they had fought, but three years together meant something. His screw-up this time was egregious, yet she had no plans to end things. They even had their wedding home lined up—the renovations would be finished in just a month or two.

Wei Xuan reeked of booze. Up close, a cloying, acrid perfume clung to his clothes. Zhao Tongtong’s expression turned icy. “What’s that stench on you? So pungent. Just where have you been ‘working late’ these past few days?”

Wei Xuan flung his suit jacket onto the nearby sofa and poured himself a glass of water. He downed most of it before replying. “Out entertaining clients with President Wang. You know about my promotion. Any dinners or karaoke nights, he drags me along. Tongtong, this is all for our little family. You think I enjoy it? The places are smoky hellholes. Wears me out.”

Zhao Tongtong compressed her lips. Something felt off between her and Wei Xuan. Even before the fight, he’d head out for two or three business dinners a week; afterward, he staggered in late virtually every night. She picked up his jacket from the sofa to hang it properly. As her right hand grazed his pocket, she felt something small and hard inside. Afraid it might tumble out later, she reached in on instinct.

Wei Xuan had been lounging there, thumbing through his phone. When he saw her fishing in his pocket, he shot to his feet in panic, lunging for the jacket—but too late. Zhao Tongtong had already extracted its contents: an opened box of condoms. Half her body went rigid. Clutching it, she demanded, “What the hell is this? Your idea of ‘grueling entertaining’?”

“No, Tongtong—listen, let me explain. That’s for President Wang and the guys. Got nothing to do with me. Just trust me this once, okay?” The cocky edge he’d had upon arriving was gone; raw panic laced his voice.

“You take me for a fool? Buy that lame excuse? Wei Xuan, I knew you’d changed, but not by this much. It disgusts me.” Tears welled in Zhao Tongtong’s eyes.

“No, Tongtong, I messed up this time, but they all went out together—President Wang and the rest. What choice did I have? It’s not like I wanted to. At the end of the day, isn’t it so I can stay in the boss’s good graces? Faster promotions, bigger paychecks—for you.” Sweat beaded on Wei Xuan’s forehead, yet the words tumbled out verbatim, as if he truly had no option for the sake of their home.

Zhao Tongtong let out a scornful laugh and shook her head. “God, I’m such an idiot. You can’t keep it in your pants, have zero self-respect, and now it’s my fault? What kind of loser did I pick? Wei Xuan, this isn’t your first time, is it? Just the first I’ve caught you at.”

“Tongtong, don’t be hasty. Let’s sit down and talk it out slowly. Don’t be mad. I won’t dare do it again—I really won’t. Next time President Wang asks me to join him for evening drinks and socializing, I definitely won’t go. Give me another chance, for the sake of our marriage that’s just around the corner.” Wei Xuan had drunk quite a bit that evening, but by now, he was completely sobered up by sheer fright.

“You know we’re about to get married? Too late, Wei Xuan. Get out of my house.” Zhao Tongtong wiped the tears from her eyes and fixed Wei Xuan with a cold stare.

“Don’t do this, Tongtong. I really know I messed up. Give me one chance—we’ve been together so long, it hasn’t been easy. I’m serious about you…”

“Cheating happens either once or a thousand times. As of right now, we’re done. Please leave my house. If you don’t, I’ll call the police on you right here. If you don’t want things to get ugly…” Zhao Tongtong stared at Wei Xuan, her phone screen already showing 110 dialed—one more tap and the call would go through.

“Why make it come to this? Tongtong, is it really worth blowing up like that?”

“It is. I can’t stand having filth like you prancing around in front of me. Get out—scram.” Zhao Tongtong glared at Wei Xuan with pure venom.

“Fine, I’ll go. Tongtong, just cool off. I’ll stand right outside the door. Whenever you’re ready, you can let me back in.” Wei Xuan figured that after three years together, she probably wouldn’t leave him out there all night, right?