Beep.
Beep…
“Heart rate 116, systolic 129, diastolic 74. Patient stable.”
“The surgery was a complete success…”
Buzzing voices drifted in and out.
Through hazy vision, the blinding white light above stabbed at her eyes. The pain that had tormented her for months was gone.
Sang Wan felt weightless, lighter than she had ever been. Her heartbeat thudded steadily, and her consciousness slipped away again. When she woke, twenty‑four hours had passed. Her limbs and body were no longer swollen. The nausea pressing on her chest had vanished. If not for the reflection in the floor‑to‑ceiling window—her body still covered in tubes, exactly as before—she might have believed she had been reborn. But remembering what happened before she lost consciousness, Sang Wan gave a bitter smile. Hadn’t she already died once?
“Sang Wan, wake up!”
Recalling that voice she heard before fainting, she asked Sister Lan, “Who sent you here?”
That person had said she was too proud to let anyone see her so broken, so wretched. *Don’t tell her.*
Sister Lan hesitated. “Miss Sang, I’m sorry, I can’t say. But if fate allows, you’ll meet someday.”
Unwilling to give up, Sang Wan asked another nurse when Sister Lan wasn’t around.
The nurse looked puzzled. “Wasn’t it your husband?”
Sang Wan: …
She would sooner believe the King of Hell had grown softhearted than believe it was Lu Jinnian.
It took Sang Wan seven days to recover enough to walk. In those seven days, neither Lu Jinnian nor Lu Xiaomu appeared. Only two phone calls from Lu Jinnian—both unanswered. Once, she would have cried herself sleepless over it. But after dying once, she felt nothing at all.
In life, nothing matters except death.
People unworthy—discard them.
Things unworthy—forget them.
Seeing Sister Lan’s eyes redden with pity as she changed her bandages, Sang Wan comforted her instead: “Sister Lan, I’ll be fine. My blessings are still ahead of me.”
“You’re right, Miss Sang!” Sister Lan nodded firmly.
Sang Wan stayed in the hospital for over half a month. The day she was discharged, the sky was gray.
On the drive back to the Lu family villa, they passed a kindergarten. Sang Wan couldn’t resist asking the driver to stop. Before getting out, she checked her reflection. Months of illness had melted her swollen frame into sudden thinness. Her sallow skin had been nourished back to smooth fairness by Sister Lan’s painstaking soups. At a glance, she looked almost like she had on her wedding day.
At five o’clock, the kindergarten gate was crowded. On the lawn inside, children chirped and bickered, their voices bright and sweet. The younger class was dismissed first, then the middle class.
And there—Sang Wan’s eyes found Lu Xiaomu at once.
“Why are you here?”
The moment Lu Xiaomu saw Sang Wan, his lively little face instantly drooped. “I already made plans with Aunt ZhaoZhao. She said she would come pick me up. It must be you, you wicked woman, you—”
“Mu‑ge!”
His angry words were cut off by a bright call of his name.
Sang Wan turned.
From the crowd outside the kindergarten gate, Lin Zhaozhao approached gracefully, standing out like a crane among chickens—strikingly beautiful. She wore an ivory tweed suit, her makeup flawless, her jewelry dazzling. Once a pure, gardenia‑like girl, in just half a year she had blossomed into a radiant, lively rose. Around her neck gleamed a sapphire necklace—the very one she had admired in a catalog, which Lu Jinnian had specially ordered from Paris.
The necklace was still brilliant. Only… it had a new owner.
“Aunt Zhaozhao!” Lu Xiaomu’s mood flipped instantly. Like a happy little bird, he rushed into Lin Zhaozhao’s arms. Hand in hand, the two walked lightly toward the parking lot. Even their backs radiated joy. She made silly faces to amuse him, wiped his hands and face with a wet tissue, and handed him cookies.
Sang Wan couldn’t see his expression, but she knew—he must be smiling brightly. She turned to leave, but Lin Zhaozhao hurried after her.
“Sister Sang…” Lin Chaochao held out a card. “President Lu gave this to me, but I think you need it more than I do. Please, take it.”
It was a membership card for a beauty salon.
In Lin Zhaozhao’s eyes, there was no attempt to hide the provocation—the lofty charity, the deliberate show of superiority.
Sang Wan’s voice was calmer than ever. “No need. Since it was given to you, you should keep it.”
Ha. Just a beauty card.
“Since you like digging for treasure in the trash heap, then… take it all!”
That included Lu Jinnian and Lu Xiaomu.
Sang Wan turned and walked away.
Behind her came Lin Zhaozhao’s shrill voice, unwilling to let go: “Sang Wan, the one who isn’t loved is the real mistress. If you’d just behave yourself as a nanny, I wouldn’t have minded you. As for the title of Mrs. Lu—I’ll *give* it to you!”
Give? Mistresses these days were truly arrogant.
Sang Wan stared at Lin Zhaozhao’s smug face for a moment, but felt nothing beyond calm indifference. She simply called Lu Jinnian, told him she had something to discuss, and asked him to come home early after work.
When Sang Wan entered the house, she went straight to the study.
Lu Jinnian returned late at night, reeking of alcohol. Seeing her, his eyes flickered with a brief hesitation. “Wanwan, if you’d stop making trouble, our days could be very good.”
“Making trouble?” Sang Wan froze. What had she done? The words rose to her lips, but she couldn’t be bothered to explain. Let him think what he wanted.
“Lu Jinnian, let’s divorce.” She pulled out the divorce agreement. “The company is yours. I only worked for a year after graduation before getting pregnant—just pay me that year’s salary.
The house and car are marital property, so we’ll split them evenly… I don’t care to haggle over assets. You keep the villa, I’ll take the apartment in the east of the city. And Xiaomu…”
Before she could finish, she looked up to find Lu Jinnian already sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep. Once, she would have fussed over him—half scolding, half coaxing—dragging him to bathe, change clothes, and sleep properly in bed.
But now, Sang Wan’s heart was like still water. They had grown up together, married after four years of university, and lived six years as husband and wife. She had listened to him complain about teammates dragging down his graduation project. Listened to him sigh over the hardships of starting a business, the difficulty of winning clients. Most of the time, it was him talking, her listening quietly, then offering ideas, solving problems. There had been tenderness once. But gradually, even sitting down for coffee and a chat became rare.
Now, Sang Wan felt like nothing more than the housemaid. What she wanted to say—he ignored. What she wanted to do—he dismissed. Back in university, her grades were better. At work, her design drafts were stronger. Yet in his eyes, her role was only “good wife, good mother.”
Just like when she first learned she was pregnant—she wanted to keep working until delivery, but Lu Jinnian insisted she stay home. From then on, he stopped seeing her. Stopped hearing her voice.
Having died once, she would never live the same way again.