Luo Yucheng, observing the situation, chimed in at the right moment, “A Yan, don’t get upset just because everyone says negative things about your wife. They genuinely have your best interests at heart. Think about it—we’ve all been friends for so many years. Even if some comments are inappropriate, just let them go and don’t take them to heart!”
“I’m not angry,” Wen Tingyan put away his phone. “Forget it, she won’t go anywhere. Let’s continue.”
After all, over the past five years, she had never gone anywhere except their home. She had nowhere else to go.
Awen glanced at Luo Yucheng and muttered, “Our Cheng Cheng is so much more gracious. If you two hadn’t broken up back then…”
“What are you talking about?” Luo Yucheng glared at Awen. “Can’t you keep your mouth shut for one night? Stop talking nonsense! A Yan is married now—it’s inappropriate for you to say such things…”
As she spoke, her eyes held a trace of resentment as she looked at Wen Tingyan. “I came back without asking for anything. As long as you all are still willing to accept me and stay by my side, I’m content…”
“What kind of foolish talk is that? You’ll always be our beloved treasure. If anyone dares to bully you, we brothers won’t let them off! Right, A Yan?” Awen thumped his chest righteously.
Wen Tingyan didn’t say much, merely swirling his glass of wine gently.
The scene felt familiar.
Years ago, he had been like this—enjoying watching his younger friends and Luo Yucheng laugh and joke around. Only when things got out of hand and they came to him would he step in to mediate “fairness.”
Now, being asked again, he smiled faintly. “Of course.”
Jian Zhi did not go home.
She checked into the hotel she had booked.
All her grievances and pain erupted the moment the hotel room door closed behind her.
The image of Awen mimicking her limping walk kept flashing before her eyes, and the roaring laughter echoed in her ears like a curse.
In truth, she had long been aware of the disparaging remarks Wen Tingyan’s brothers made about her in private. She had just never brought it up with him.
They were his longtime friends—she understood that.
He worked hard outside—she understood that too.
So, she didn’t want to cause trouble for him or create rifts between him and his brothers over her.
But now, it seemed she had overthought it.
How could he ever let her come between him and his brothers?
They were his brothers of many years!
What was she to him?
She was just the burden he forced himself to marry out of a sense of obligation, the debt he felt he owed. Without her, his life would be happier.
“She’s just a cripple! Who else would want her if you didn’t marry her?”
“She’s a cripple—what more could she possibly want, married to someone like A Yan?”
“If I were A Yan, I’d rather have been the one hit by the car and crippled than marry a cripple and be laughed at.”
“Other CEOs have elegant, presentable wives. Only our A Yan doesn’t even have someone he can bring out in public.”
…
All the gossip and harsh words she had heard over the past five years surged through her mind like a tidal wave, swirling into a massive vortex that engulfed and drowned her.
She couldn’t breathe, her heart and lungs aching as if torn apart.
With trembling hands, she opened an album on her phone that she hadn’t dared to look at in five years. It contained records of her practice and performances during her undergraduate years.
Since she could no longer dance on stage, she had sealed away all photos and videos related to dance here, password-protected them, and never opened them again.
Now, with trembling fingers, she randomly opened a video.
Amidst the music, she spun, leaped, and performed a mid-air split.
Back then, she had been radiant and agile, receiving thunderous applause…
So, was saving someone a mistake?
But even at the moment she saved him, she hadn’t thought about marrying him.
It was he who said he wanted to marry her, planned a grand proposal ceremony, knelt before her with a massive diamond ring, and gave her hope…
With trembling hands, she forcefully turned off her phone. For the first time in five years, she collapsed onto the bed and wept bitterly.
She cried for a long, long time.
So long that she felt exhausted, so long that not a single tear remained—only the pain in her chest, burning and licking at her like flames.
Yet it was precisely this pain that, after tossing her in this suffocating whirlpool, gave her a moment of clarity.
The more it hurt, the clearer she became.
She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, calming herself down.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, devoid of all radiance, she silently told herself, “Jian Zhi, crying once is enough. No more tears. Now, please eat well, rest well, and take your exam seriously tomorrow.”
The only thing she was grateful for was that, during the long five years of marriage, she had studied every day to pass the time.
It wasn’t out of any grand ambition—simply because there was too much time and too much boredom.
Waiting for Wen Tingyan to come home was her entire life.
But Wen Tingyan always returned very late.
At first, she thought he was busy with work. Later, she realized he just didn’t want to come home early to face her.
She had heard it with her own ears.
Back then, sympathizing with his hard work, she mustered the courage to care for him. She prepared a special meal and brought it to his office, only to overhear a conversation she shouldn’t have.
He was in his office with his childhood friend.
The friend asked why he wasn’t going home yet, noting how late it was and that almost everyone had left the company, yet he, the CEO, was still working overtime.
He said plainly: “I don’t know how to face Jian Zhi’s enthusiasm when I go back.”
At the time, the naive Jian Zhi didn’t understand the implication, but his friend grasped it instantly.
The friend exclaimed in shock: “No way? A Yan, don’t tell me you two haven’t even slept together?”
Wen Tingyan remained silent.
It was the truth.
Wen Tingyan never touched her.
She had hinted, even shamelessly taken the initiative, but each time, he refused with various excuses.
Such as: “You’re not in good health.”
Or: “I’ve been too tired lately.”
She wasn’t foolish. Gradually, she understood he simply didn’t want to touch her because he didn’t love her.
But hearing him say it outright that day felt like ten thousand needles piercing her heart, the pain so intense she could barely breathe.
Later, his friend half-jokingly, half-seriously asked him, “A Yan, don’t tell me you have no physical reaction to her at all? She’s still very beautiful, no matter what.”
Wen Tingyan’s reply became a needle buried deep in her heart, pricking her incessantly over the following years, causing excruciating pain whenever she remembered it.
Wen Tingyan had said: “I’ve tried to have a normal married life with her, but whenever I see her legs… I immediately lose all interest.”
So that’s how it was…
In his eyes, her leg—scarred and with atrophied muscles from saving him—was disgusting, nauseating, and utterly unappealing…
In the end, she never knocked on his office door that day. The specially prepared lunch she brought was thrown into the company’s trash bin.
From then on, she never went to his company again.