From the moment of pregnancy, Sang Wan had begun to gain weight, and even after giving birth, her figure never returned to its former slender grace.
Now, Lin Zhaozhao looked as if she were wearing clothes far too big for her—loose and empty—yet it carried a certain charm of its own.
Downstairs, Lu Xiaomu was feverish and suffering. While upstairs, Lu Jinnian and Lin Zhaozhao were tangled together in passion.
Sang Wan couldn’t suppress the wave of nausea. “Lu Jinnian, you’re shameless!”
“Who’s the shameless one?” Lu Jinnian seized her, the words “wild man” on the tip of his tongue, but instead he turned to Lin Zhaozhao. “Go back.”
The goal had already been achieved.
Lin Zhaozhao nodded, obediently turning and heading upstairs.
Lu Jinnian swung back to Sang Wan, like a lion driven mad with rage. “Sang Wan, are you that desperate? The divorce papers aren’t even in your hands yet, and you’re already rushing to find a new lover? Well? Does he satisfy you…”
Smack! Another merciless slap.
Lu Jinnian’s eyes burned red, his glare at Sang Wan as if he could devour her whole. But the next instant, he had no time to react. Sang Wan drove her knee upward, hard.
Lu Jinnian’s eyes widened in fury and disbelief, but the searing pain stole his breath. He couldn’t even cry out. He could only watch as Sang Wan clapped her hands, patted her knee, and stepped back several meters. Her gaze at him was as if he were filth. Her voice was icy: “Lu Jinnian, when your heart is diseased, everyone looks dirty to you. That’s an illness—get it treated early.”
He had already brought Lin Zhaozhao into their home. Where did he get the nerve to question her?
“Also—stop calling me!”
“You made your choice, and so did Lu Xiaomu. I’ve already stepped aside for her. What more do you want? Lu Jinnian, even a rabbit will bite when cornered. Push me too far, and I’ll contact reporters and spill everything. Tell me—how many times can the Lu Corporation’s stock survive a plunge?”
Ignoring Lu Jinnian’s darkened face, Sang Wan turned and walked away. The villa receded behind her, swallowed by distance. She stepped into the night, her heart hollow and numb.
One memory rose: Lu Xiaomu, sweetly calling “Mama” when happy, crying for “Mama’s hug” when upset. Another: the same child, burning with fever, still insisting he wanted Aunt Zhaozhao.
Sang Wan couldn’t understand. Where had it gone wrong? Or was it her fault? From the time he was still in her belly, she had recited classics, told fairy tales, practiced prenatal education. After birth, she never stopped—picture books, stories of great figures. As a mother, she had led by example, showing him how to be kind, upright, cultured, and compassionate.
Except for weekends and holidays, when Lu Jinnian took him to Su Baohui’s, where he stayed a few days, mother and son had hardly ever been apart. Yet in just a few months, Lu Xiaomu’s every word revolved around Lin Zhaozhao.
Does it hurt? It hurts. But she couldn’t change it—and no longer wanted to.
A fine pain spread across her soles. Looking down, Sang Wan saw she was still wearing the hotel’s disposable slippers. She had left in such haste that she hadn’t even changed shoes. Behind her, the driver hung up the phone, started the car, and drove it into the garage.
The villa’s lights went out one by one. Under the bright streetlamps, she looked like a wandering ghost drifting out of hell.
Sang Wan clenched her teeth, ignoring the stabbing pain, and strode out. Her phone rang shrilly.
Lou Ye’s name flashed on the screen. She hesitated for a second, then hung up.
But Lou Ye, unwilling to give up, called again.
“Hello? What is it?” Sang Wan’s voice was cold.
On the other end, Lou Ye paused, then spoke, nervous and embarrassed: “Senior, 2S is missing!”
The bad mood she had been suppressing all night flared instantly.
But Sang Wan knew this wasn’t Lou Ye’s fault. “Have you looked? Could it have run out through the balcony?”
“It shouldn’t have. I had all the doors and windows upstairs and downstairs closed.”
“Check under the sofa, under the bed, behind the cabinets…” She rattled off a list of places where cats might hide. But what she feared most was that the orange cat had gotten stuck somewhere. After all, Lou Ye’s house was far too big.
“I’ll come over now. In the meantime, have people keep searching everywhere.”
“Alright. Where are you? I’ll send the driver to pick you up—it’ll be faster that way!”
“I’m at…”
After a few seconds’ hesitation, Sang Wan reported the location of the Lu family villa district.
Lou Ye responded immediately: “Good. Wait there—the driver will be right over!”
Hanging up, Sang Wan forced herself to ignore the stabbing pain and strode out.
Inside the half‑mountain villa’s living room, Lou Ye’s gaze was deep and unreadable. After a long while, he lowered his eyes to the orange cat curled into a ball, purring in sleep. He lifted it by the scruff and gave it a shake. “Time to work…”
The orange cat blinked drowsily. But when Lou Ye tossed a yarn ball upstairs, the cat snapped awake, meowing as it leaped after it.
It was more than ten minutes later when Sang Wan finally entered.
Lou Ye’s eyes dropped to her feet; she avoided his gaze, scanning the room instead. “Did you find it?”
“No.” Lou Ye shook his head.
Sang Wan fetched her worn cotton slippers from the shoe cabinet and changed out of the flimsy disposables.
“Ju‑ju… meow…”
From beneath the sofa to behind the wine cabinet, Sang Wan searched the living room inch by inch.
At the foot of the stairs, she paused, turned back to Lou Ye. “Can I go upstairs?”
“Of course.” Lou Ye nodded.
Sang Wan went up decisively, calling softly as she searched toward the terrace.
Lou Ye’s gaze lingered on her blood‑stained, worn‑through disposable slippers.
The Lu family villa. It couldn’t be Lu Jinnian—it had to be Lu Xiaomu, that little brat.
But that was fine. What was the saying? If the child is not taught, it is the father’s fault. So be it—let Lu Jinnian bear the consequences.
Lou Ye ground his teeth, cast a shadowed glance out the window, then turned and went upstairs.
By then, Sang Wan had already found the orange cat. In the pitch‑dark home theater on the third floor, the cat clutched its yarn ball, sprawled between the massage chair and the wall, fast asleep.
At the sight of Sang Wan, its titanium‑bright eyes lit up, and with a sweet mewl, it burrowed straight into her arms.
Sang Wan froze. When Lou Ye said 2S was missing, after a brief moment of blankness, a wave of helpless grief and wounded injustice surged up from the depths of her heart. It felt, inexplicably, as if the whole world had abandoned her.
Lu Jinnian.
Lu Xiaomu.
Even the cat didn’t want her anymore. Thankfully—it was still here! Her heart, suspended high, came crashing down with a thud.
Sang Wan sat dazed on the carpet, tears falling in heavy drops. Lou Ye had just stepped to the doorway, one foot about to cross the threshold, when he heard her muffled sobs. He stepped back, leaving silently.
After crying hard, Sang Wan felt lighter. When she rose again, she caught sight of her reflection on the screen—disheveled, pitiful. Her eyes and nose were red, her hair a tangled mess. At a glance, she looked like someone who had been bullied. She didn’t know how to explain her lingering presence to Lou Ye. Nor how to make him overlook her current state of ruin. Her mind went blank for a moment.
Footsteps sounded on the stairway.
“Senior…” Lou Ye approached, stopping at the door without entering. “I didn’t interrupt your reunion with your little one, did I?”
Sang Wan blinked. “No.”
“That’s good.” Lou Ye stepped inside, arms full.