“Sang Wan, you should be grateful for the cooling-off period…”
Walking out of the Civil Affairs Bureau, Lu Jinnian’s gaze was full of ice and mockery. “It gave you a whole month to regret your decision.”
So even now, he still believed she was just being dramatic? And that in a month she would surely regret it?
Sang Wan’s expression remained calm. “Lu Jinnian, I will never regret this.”
His face showed disbelief as he turned and walked away.
A Mercedes sped past. Sang Wan stood at the roadside, a flicker of confusion rising in her heart.
No house.
No car.
No luggage.
Apart from the phone in her hand, she hadn’t even brought a change of clothes.
This… was truly leaving with nothing, wasn’t it?
Ding! Her phone chimed. Sang Wan lifted it and saw the bank notification.
100,000 yuan.
Back when she worked at Lu Corporation as an architect, her monthly salary was 8,000. One full year, plus half a month’s bonus, came to exactly 100,000.
Pregnant for one year. A full-time homemaker for five. Six years in total. If she had been a nanny, she could have saved 200,000. But in Lu Jinnian’s eyes, she was free labor. A wave of sorrow rose in her chest, but she exhaled softly, pressing it down.
Sang Wan lifted her head to the blue sky and drifting clouds. At this hour on a normal day, she would have already dropped Lu Xiaomu at kindergarten, gone shopping at the supermarket or wet market, and just returned home.
No time even to sit and rest. She would head straight to the bathroom to toss last night’s laundry into the washing machine, then clean the dining table and sink.
The robot swept the floors. The mop machine washed them. But both still needed her to operate. Between tasks, she would tidy the toy shelf in the children’s room. After hanging the laundry, she might finally rest for a moment— but then it was time to prepare lunch. Alone, she’d eat something simple, nap for half an hour, then get up again to cook soup and prep vegetables for dinner.
At five, she’d pick up Lu Xiaomu. The clatter of pots and pans would mix with the endless chorus of “Mama, Mama.”
If Lu Jinnian came home early, the three of them could eat together. If late, she would bathe Xiaomu, read him picture books, coax him to sleep— and still prepare hangover soup for Lu Jinnian when he finally returned.
The last light in the house was always the one she turned off.
Sleeping the latest. Waking the earliest.
Day after day. Year after year. It had been so long since she’d simply paused like this— quietly looking up at the sky, at the street before her. And in that brief moment, the feeling of relief outweighed the confusion.
Sang Wan walked on, following a familiar scent, until she stepped into the wonton shop at the corner of the alley. Thin-skinned, generously filled shepherd’s purse and pork wontons. They were Sang Wan’s favorite. Back in college, she often came here to eat. After marriage, though, the alley was too narrow for parking. Lu Jinnian came a few times but soon refused to return. So only when Sang Wan felt homesick would she stop by for a bowl.
“Senior?” A doubtful voice rang out just as Sang Wan accepted the white porcelain bowl from the gray-haired shop owner.
She turned, momentarily stunned.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
The two spoke in unison.
San Wan looked at the handsome man who had sat down across from her, giving him a once-over with a smile. “Did you… come to the wrong place?”
The custom-tailored black suit fit him perfectly. The crisp white shirt beneath seemed to glow. They say clothes make the man, but when Lou Ye’s face appeared, only one word came to mind: radiance.
And now, this suave, impeccably dressed man was sitting in a messy little wonton shop.
Sang Wan found it strange. “Don’t tell me you came here for breakfast.”
“What else?” Lou Ye nudged aside a red plastic stool with his foot and sat down. “Coming to a breakfast shop and not eating breakfast—what, did you think I came here to work?”
Sang Wan laughed.
They had both studied architecture at Imperial University. Sang Wan was two years ahead of Lou Ye. She never imagined that the aloof campus heartthrob who used to trail behind her calling “Senior” would turn out to be the heir of the Lou family in the capital. Nor did she expect that after so many years, their reunion would happen in such a humble wonton shop. She glanced toward the alley entrance, where a black Ferrari gleamed in the morning sun—low-key yet dazzling, just like its owner.
Sang Wan smiled. “It’s been years, but you… haven’t changed much.”
Still handsome. Still aloof.
Lou Ye’s tightly wound mood burst like a bubble the moment he saw Sang Wan in the shop. “You, on the other hand, have changed quite a lot.”
His gaze swept over her pale face. He looked around the shop, frowning slightly. “You’re here alone?”
Sang Wan raised her brows. “What else?”
Sang Wan tossed Lou Ye’s rhetorical question back at him with a smile. “At this hour, people are either at work or at school, busy with their own lives. The only ones who can sit leisurely in a shop eating breakfast are either wealthy heirs like you or idlers like me…”
The word housewife hovered on her lips, but she thought of how soon she would be looking for a job and starting a new life. So she corrected herself: “Or people like me, with nothing much to do.”
“But you—” Lou Ye began, but the shop owner interrupted.
“Here you go…” The kindly, smiling owner set a white porcelain bowl before Lou Ye. “Boss, your wontons!”
Sang Wan blinked. “Boss?”
“That’s right…”
The shop owner chuckled. “Business hasn’t been good these past years. If the boss hadn’t taken a liking to this place and bought it, I would’ve closed down long ago.”
The little wontons slid into her stomach, warm and comforting. The fragrance of shepherd’s purse spread from her mouth all the way to her heart.
Sang Wan suddenly realized she couldn’t quite understand the way rich people thought.
Bill Gates wouldn’t stoop to pick up a coin at his feet—because in the time it took, he could earn far more. Lou Ye was the same. Forget the vast Lou Corporation. After nine o’clock, the stock market opened, and with a flick of his finger, millions could surge in or out. Yet he had bought a wonton shop that not only failed to make money but might even lose it. That odd sense she felt upon seeing him here returned.
Sang Wan lowered her head, silently sipping soup and eating wontons.
Lou Ye slowly pushed aside the cilantro in his bowl. The first bite after his hangover was a piece of seaweed at the bottom. “And you? How have you been lately?”
“Quite well…” Sang Wan nodded, eating wontons and sipping soup, a gentle smile rising on her face. “To be precise, I should say… especially well!”
A tangle of seaweed clung to her chopsticks, messy as his mood.
Lou Ye tightened his grip on the chopsticks.
Behind him, the shop owner’s cheerful voice rang out: “Boss, I saw the news push—said you’re getting engaged today! Congratulations!”
Instinctively, Lou Ye looked at Sang Wan, just in time to see the bright smile on her face. His eyes darkened. The black haze in his chest pressed down again, heavy and suffocating.
“Lou Ye, congratulations!” Sang Wan hesitated, then smiled. “If you don’t mind me being unlucky, leave me an address. Later I’ll send you my blessings and a gift.”
“Unlucky?” Lou Ye frowned. “What do you mean?”
She hesitated for a moment, then decided it wasn’t shameful to admit—though she wasn’t sure if Lou Ye would mind. Softly, she said, “Today is the day of my divorce.”
“What did you say?” Lou Ye froze. The agitation and gloom in his chest condensed into a volcano ready to erupt. “Sang Wan, say that again!!!”
Sang Wan.
Sang Wan!!!
Two voices overlapped— One from the astonished, unguarded Lou Ye before her. The other from that desperate, furious cry echoing in her memory, just before death.
Her heart jolted. She looked at Lou Ye in disbelief. “Lou Ye…”