“Ruoxi…” Yang Wenfu dropped to one knee before his wife. As he gazed at the breathtakingly beautiful woman before him, memories of his marriage proposal flooded back, stirring deep emotions within him. Her exquisite features remained as coldly alluring as the day they had first met. He spoke slowly, his voice ringing with conviction: “Ruoxi… thank you for crashing into my dull, monotonous life back then. And thank you even more for never leaving my side since.”
Liu Ruoxi watched her husband kneeling there before her, bouquet of flowers in hand and dressed sharply in a suit. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she still said nothing.
Her expression remained utterly unmoved, even by this sudden “surprise” that would have thrilled most people.
Deep affection shone in Yang Wenfu’s eyes as he gazed at his wife. Her calm indifference did not discourage him. Instead, he pressed on: “I still remember the moment we first met. I was just a poor kid, working as a waiter at a hotel and putting up with constant disdain from everyone.
“The first time I saw you, you were dazzling—like a celestial fairy who had descended to the mortal world. I was so entranced that I dropped a tray of dishes, drawing a scolding from the manager. It was you, Ruoxi, who stepped in and got me out of trouble.”
Tears began to glisten in Yang Wenfu’s eyes as he spoke. This grown man, father of two children, choked up like a little boy: “From that day forward, Ruoxi, you shone like a beam of light into my numb and darkened world. What right did I have to deserve you? That poor kid back then probably never even dreamed he could marry someone like you…”
As she listened to her husband’s rambling words, Liu Ruoxi found herself drifting back more than a decade to that fateful first encounter. Gentle ripples began to stir in her heart…
“The greatest gift heaven ever bestowed upon me was sending you into my life, Ruoxi. I’m so grateful, so fortunate to have you for the rest of my days.”
“Ruoxi, thank you for standing by me unwaveringly all these years. Sure, we’ve had our fights and stumbled along the way, but before we knew it, I’d become the father of two kids, and you their mother. Looking back now, I still feel like that broke kid with nothing to his name. Ruoxi, it was you who brought me all of this…”
Yang Wenfu had rehearsed his speech meticulously, but in this moment of raw emotion, all those flowery phrases slipped his mind. He simply poured out their shared history—from that first meeting, to getting to know one another, falling in love… right up to the present day.
As Liu Ruoxi listened to her husband recount their past, she gazed at the man before her—her own husband. Ripples disturbed the calm surface of her heart, and without realizing it, her eyes toward him softened with tenderness.
The oldest tricks win hearts, but nothing moves like true sincerity!
…
Yang Haoran, peeking around the doorframe, was utterly stunned. His dad had played this perfectly. A bunch of sweet nothings probably wouldn’t have budged Mom with her personality, but these corny, down-home words were just the right medicine.
No wonder Dad had won her over, he thought with genuine admiration. Compared to his father, he was still way too green.
Yang Mengyao clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, her lovely eyes round as saucers. She could hardly believe her dad was capable of such cheesy lines.
…
“Ruoxi, I’m sorry! It’s all been my fault these past years. Please forgive me!” With those words straight from the heart, Yang Wenfu extended the bouquet toward his wife.
The chill had long faded from Liu Ruoxi’s face. As she looked at her husband’s sincere apology, the indifference was gone, replaced by a rare flicker of gentleness. Her slender hand reached out toward the flowers.
Yang Wenfu watched with bated breath, his nerves jangling just like the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
At that precise moment, an untimely WeChat ringtone blared to life.
Liu Ruoxi’s brows furrowed slightly. Beneath Yang Wenfu’s disappointed gaze, she fished her phone from her bag.
The caller ID read “Haoran 2”—her son’s number. She moved to answer it, but her eyes locked on the little “2,” freezing her in place. The delicate finger poised over the button hung in midair, held back by some indescribable force.
Haoran 2. That was the label for her alternate WeChat account—her secret burner account where she addressed her son Haoran as “Master.” In that chat, he had no idea who she really was.
Yang Wenfu watched as his wife’s face flickered ever so slightly upon glancing at the screen, only for her to quickly compose herself and hang up.
He thought it strange but didn’t dwell on it, holding out the flowers once more.
Yet after that call, as Liu Ruoxi regarded her kneeling husband and his bouquet, a new layer of complexity entered her eyes. The hand she had extended seemed shackled in place, refusing to move.
That single ring had doused her like a bucket of ice water. Memories of that wicked game—and the chains it had wrapped around her—came rushing back. Could she truly return to the way things used to be?
Yang Wenfu grew anxious at his wife’s hesitation. He could see she had been on the verge of forgiving him moments ago. It was that damned call that had thrown everything off.
Then the piercing ringtone sounded again, relentless as a vengeful spirit.
Liu Ruoxi picked up the phone once more and saw “Haoran 2” again. Her mind raced, a cold glint creeping into her gaze.
Such perfect timing? Twice now, right at this critical juncture. Liu Ruoxi refused to chalk it up to coincidence.
Did her son… know it was her? Or was it truly just chance? She hung up again, but the phone rang immediately. She hung up; it rang again…
“Ruoxi, who’s calling? If it’s important, go ahead and answer. It’s fine.”
Her bizarre reaction had planted a seed of suspicion in Yang Wenfu. Who could it be?
“A work call. It’s nothing.”
Liu Ruoxi brushed it off lightly and hung up once more.
Yang Wenfu eyed her expression, recalling that brief change in her face. Doubts began to stir within him. “Ruoxi, if it’s work, maybe it’s urgent. You should take it.”
Without realizing it, his voice had grown louder.
“No need. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”
Liu Ruoxi replied coolly, rejecting him outright. She couldn’t possibly answer that call. Whether her son knew her identity or not, picking up would tear away the fragile veil between mother and son.
“It’s no big deal—just answer it, Ruoxi. See what they want?” As she refused again, Yang Wenfu’s suspicions deepened. Could it be…
“I said there’s no need.”
Her husband’s prodding shattered the fragile ripples in her heart, leaving her irritated. She spoke coldly.
She silenced the phone and slipped it back into her bag, but the evasive gesture clearly provoked Yang Wenfu. His face darkened in an instant. A wife acting shifty with some strange reaction—what husband wouldn’t suspect something? Especially after years of cold war.
Infidelity? The word leaped into his mind. Having cheated himself, he was hypersensitive to it now, and her behavior seemed to confirm his worst fears step by step.
If it was just a work call, why dodge it? If it was work, why the secrecy? Every odd action suddenly made perfect sense when viewed through the lens of an affair. Human nature is suspicious, especially toward those we cherish most—and all the more so after years apart, with no intimacy between them and each living their separate lives. If she’d taken a lover, he’d have been none the wiser, just as she’d been oblivious to his own indiscretions.
The more he dwelled on it, the grimmer his expression became. Seeing her face harden into cold indifference once more, he finally snapped and rose to his feet.
“Ruoxi… are you seeing someone else?”
The words hung in the air. Yang Wenfu fixed his gaze on her face. When it twisted sharply, a bitter ache filled his heart.
To Liu Ruoxi, her husband’s outrageous accusation struck like thunder. Her own face soured as she replied icily: “Is that what all this talk today was leading up to?”
