When Fu Sinian returned to the Moon Lake Bay villa, the morning light was just spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting mottled patterns across the smooth marble floor. This standalone villa, worth 90 million, had been his wedding gift to Su Wanning. Every corner of it carried his care and attention. It had once been filled with laughter, but now an indescribable sense of distance lingered in the air.
He placed the car keys into the glass tray at the entrance, the movement slightly heavier than usual. The red bean buns and unsweetened soy milk were set down casually on the expensive rosewood dining table, the paper bag making a faint sound as it touched the surface.
Footsteps echoed from upstairs. Su Wanning slowly came down in silk sleepwear, her long hair slightly messy over her shoulders, her bare face still carrying the haze of sleep.
“You’re back early.” She yawned, her gaze sweeping lazily across the dining table. When her eyes landed on the red bean buns, she paused noticeably, a faint, almost imperceptible frown forming.
Fu Sinian stood at the other end of the table, silently taking in every detail of her reaction. A memory surfaced—three years ago, one winter day, she had nestled in his arms, taking small bites of the red bean buns he fed her, her eyes curved with a bright smile as she said, “Sinian, the red bean buns you buy are the sweetest. I want to eat them for a lifetime.”
But now, the way she looked at them was as if they were something unpleasant.
“Didn’t I say I’m trying to lose fat?” Su Wanning walked over and lightly nudged the paper bag with her fingers, her tone carrying a trace of careless dismissal. “Don’t buy this anymore. It’s too greasy.”
Too greasy.
The three words were like a thin needle, pricking Fu Sinian’s heart. He remembered clearly how she once said she would never get tired of them, even after a lifetime.
“It’s fine to have it occasionally.” Fu Sinian’s voice remained calm as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “You’ve lost quite a bit of weight lately.”
That much was true. Su Wanning had indeed grown thinner. The fullness in her cheeks had faded slightly, and faint dark circles lingered beneath her eyes. He had once thought it was due to overwork. Now, however, it seemed there might be another reason.
She sat across from him, picked up the cup of unsweetened soy milk, and took small sips, her gaze carefully avoiding his.
“Losing weight is a lifelong mission for women.” She forced a small smile. Then, as if remembering something, she added, “Besides, Jingchen said I look better like this now…”
Her words abruptly cut off, as if she had realized she had said something she shouldn’t. Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
Fu Sinian’s eyes darkened.
Jingchen. The name had appeared again.
Silence settled over the dining room, broken only by the faint sound of the cup touching the table. Fu Sinian could feel his heart sinking deeper, little by little.
He took the cufflink out from his suit’s inner pocket. The metal reflected a cold gleam under the morning light. He placed it gently on the table and pushed it toward her.
“I found this in your car,” he said evenly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Is it yours?”
The moment Su Wanning’s eyes landed on the cufflink, they contracted sharply. The color drained from her face at a visible speed. Almost instinctively, she reached out and swept the cufflink into her palm, the movement so fast it bordered on panic.
“Oh, this…” Her voice was tight, unnatural. Her eyes darted around, refusing to meet his. “It’s probably something my colleague Gu Jingchen left behind.”
Gu Jingchen. The third time.
Fu Sinian’s fingertips tapped lightly against the table, steady and controlled, completely at odds with the storm raging inside him.
Realizing she had overreacted, Su Wanning forced herself to calm down and squeezed out a strained smile. “Last time, he gave me a ride home on the way. He must have dropped it by accident.”
On the way. By accident.
Every word sounded carefully constructed.
After speaking, she stood up and walked quickly to the kitchen trash bin. Without hesitation, she threw the cufflink inside. The crisp metallic sound of it hitting the bottom rang sharply in the quiet morning.
“It’s just a cheap little thing. If it’s lost, it’s lost.” By the time she turned back, her expression had already been adjusted, her tone almost overly relaxed. “Don’t take it to heart. Jingchen wouldn’t mind.”
Wouldn’t mind?
Fu Sinian nearly let out a cold laugh. A man left a personal belonging in another man’s wife’s car—what right did he, as the husband, have not to mind?
But he said nothing.
He simply looked at her, his gaze deep and penetrating, as if trying to see through her carefully maintained composure and into the truth she was hiding.
Under his stare, Su Wanning grew visibly uncomfortable. She lifted a hand to adjust her hair, then turned to the coffee machine and began making coffee. Her back to him looked slightly stiff.
“Don’t you have an early meeting today?” she said, deliberately changing the subject, her tone artificially light. “You shouldn’t be late.”
Fu Sinian still didn’t respond.
He watched as she skillfully operated the coffee machine, and a memory surfaced again—when she had first learned to make coffee, she had been clumsy, spilling it everywhere. He would stand behind her, holding her hands, patiently guiding her through every step. Back then, she would turn around and smile at him, her eyes filled with light.
Now, she wouldn’t even meet his gaze.
The last trace of hope in his heart began to crumble. The girl who had once looked at him as if he were her entire world seemed to have truly changed.
He slowly stood up and straightened his suit jacket. His movements remained elegant and composed, as if nothing had happened.
“I’m leaving,” he said flatly, his tone revealing neither anger nor warmth.
Su Wanning turned around, holding the freshly brewed coffee, a look of relief flickering across her face. “Drive safely.”
Fu Sinian gave a slight nod and walked toward the entrance. At the moment he turned away, the calm on his face finally cracked, and suppressed pain mixed with icy coldness surged within his eyes.
The cufflink now lying in the trash bin was like a thorn, deeply embedded in his heart. And Su Wanning’s pale lies were the hand gripping that thorn, pushing it deeper again and again.
Outside, the sunlight was bright.
Yet he felt no warmth at all.