Yan Binghua did not interrupt Jiang Chengli, merely listening quietly.
Jiang Chengli’s tone was sincere, “I know how wonderful a girl Xiaoyu used to be. Seeing her become like this for our daughter breaks my heart. I pity Xiaoyu and despise my own helplessness, unable to do anything for her.”
Yan Binghua remained silent for a long time before speaking, “You’ve suffered. Staying by Xiaoyu’s side is the greatest help you can give her.”
Jiang Chengli’s expression stiffened almost imperceptibly before he shook his head, “I haven’t suffered. I’m Xiaoyu’s husband. This is all my duty.”
Yan Binghua seemed to believe his words, his steps noticeably lighter as he left.
Having confirmed Jiang Chengli’s attitude, Yan Songyu treated him even worse. Verbal humiliation became commonplace, physical torment frequent occurrences – he had no choice but to endure it all.
Compared to in the hospital, Yan Songyu didn’t even need to worry about her behavior tarnishing the Yan Family’s reputation.
Over time, even the Yan Family servants began sympathizing with Jiang Chengli, but these pitying looks only further wounded his pride, as if constantly reminding him: Look, even servants can look down on you with sympathy – you live worse than a dog in the Yan Family!
Yet he couldn’t show the slightest resistance because he couldn’t get divorced, and no one in the Yan Family would help this “Mr. Jiang.” They would only say:
“Xiaoyu became like this because of you. Everyone can blame her, except you.”
“The young miss used to be so gentle and kind. Now she’s become like this because of pregnancy – as her husband, you should understand her most.”
“Poor young lady, taking handfuls of antidepressants. What do Mr. Jiang’s superficial wounds matter?”
…
Jiang Chengli wanted to refute. He didn’t know why Yan Songyu developed depression – he’d treated her like royalty throughout her entire pregnancy. Before entering the delivery room, she’d even sweetly called him “husband,” yet woke up and slapped him!
Moreover, she clearly adored their daughter, fussing over whether she was cold or hot, how much she ate, how many times she soiled herself – she could speak kindly to anyone except him.
Jiang Chengli could only escape to his studio under the pretext of creative work, staying there entire days.
Finally, when Yan Songyu burned down his studio, Jiang Chengli lost his temper for the first time, though his anger only manifested as throwing out “You’re unreasonable!” before storming out of the house.
The Yan Family servants praised his mild temper to his face while secretly mocking his spinelessness.
“What’s the use of painting these? You can’t even earn back the cost of paints. Nobody would take them even for free.”
“Ambitions higher than the sky, fate thinner than paper – still dreaming of being an artist?”
“Better to take on more commercial commissions than waste time here seeking inspiration – at least you wouldn’t lose money.”
Jiang Chengli drowned his sorrows drink after drink at the bar. Yan Songyu’s words still echoed in his ears – were these vicious, cutting words really spoken by the once gentle and kind Yan Songyu? Or had he misjudged her from the start?
He had wondered whether the child swap had been discovered, but Yan Songyu clearly doted on Feifei like she was her own eyes. The day they returned home, he had confirmed that Feifei indeed had three ink spots on her leg – she was undoubtedly Zhou Yue’s daughter.
Jiang Chengli began questioning whether all this was worth it.
Watching the man drowning his sorrows in the booth, Yan Songyu sneered lightly. Just this? She had thought he might actually do something significant, rushing out to gather information, only to find him hiding away drinking…
When Jiang Chengli stepped out of the bar, the biting wind sobered him slightly. He didn’t want to return to the Yan Family, yet had nowhere else to go…
No! Perhaps there was still one place. He flagged down a taxi. “To Wei’anli in the South District.”
Wei’anli in the South District was the largest slum in Haishi—neither sanitary nor safe.
Among the many taxis waiting outside the bar, Yan Songyu chose one parked under the shade of a tree. “Driver, follow that car ahead.”
“Sure thing!” The driver’s voice was bright and energetic, but his next words revealed his gossipy nature. “Chasing a cheating man, miss? I’m great at this—known as the Racing King of Tai’an District. Don’t worry, I won’t lose them.”
He often drove around the bars and clubs in this area and considered himself “well-experienced.”
Yan Songyu offered the driver a bitter smile. “Then I’ll trouble you.”
“But you’re so beautiful and clearly wealthy! That scumbag who betrayed you has no taste!”
He’d seen the man who got in the car ahead—though he appeared refined and handsome, compared to this young lady, the difference in presence was obvious. After years of driving, he’d seen enough people to have an eye for these things.
Yan Songyu lowered her gaze slightly. She was the one with no taste—unable to distinguish between a man and a dog. Jiang Chengli’s judgment was absolutely perfect!
Her story with Jiang Chengli began with a classic hero-saving-the-damsel scenario.
During her graduation party with friends, her driver got stuck in traffic. Thinking it was just a short distance, she decided to walk—only to encounter a group of thugs who, after taking her money, were moved by lust.
Dragged into an alley, the girl who had always lived under her father’s protection had no means to resist. Just as despair set in, Jiang Chengli descended like a god, saving her. He even took a blow for her that fractured his right arm—the very hand he used to hold his paintbrush!
It was a beautiful yet cliché beginning. She fell in love with Jiang Chengli at first sight.