The night was as black as ink, and a torrential rain raged.
On Panhai Road, Qiao Zhao huddled in the driver’s seat, wiping the blood trickling from her temple while dialing Shen Moyan’s number.
The birthday cake on the passenger seat was already a sorry sight.
Today was Shen Moyan’s birthday. She had ordered a cake, but the heavy rain delayed the delivery. Afraid she wouldn’t make it in time for his birthday, she had driven to pick it up herself. As a result of the slick roads, the car behind her had rear-ended her.
She had swerved the steering wheel sharply, crashing into a roadside ornamental tree, narrowly avoiding plunging into the sea below the highway.
She had already called the police, but the location was remote and the weather was severe. Before the police could arrive, she called her husband.
Interfered with by the storm, the signal was intermittent. On her fifth attempt, the call finally connected.
“Hello? Qiao Zhao?” A gentle voice came through, just like the man himself.
Qiao Zhao’s eyes welled up. “Moyan… I’ve been in a car accident. Can you come get me?”
There was a pause on the other end, then the man said in a steady tone, “I can’t get away. Call the driver.”
“But…” As she spoke, the movement tugged at the wound on her forehead, and her voice trembled.
Shen Moyan didn’t notice anything unusual. “Today is my most important moment. I hope you can understand. Haven’t you always been the most sensible one?”
The hand she had pressed against her wound slid down. Her entire body shivered, and her heart jolted with a sharp pang.
She didn’t understand. Why was he always like this? Gentle as water, yet beneath the surface, it was all thin ice.
Outsiders said he had a good temper and was emotionally stable. Only she knew that he was good at everything—respected by his superiors and esteemed by his students—except for the fact that he didn’t love her.
But before they were married, they had clearly been in love. He had even broken his family rules for her.
According to the Shen family precepts, no one was allowed to marry within three years of an elder’s passing. Yet, not long after they met, his grandfather passed away. He had said three years was too long; he couldn’t wait to marry her.
After the wedding, she thought it was the beginning of happiness, but all she experienced was long-term neglect.
The call dropped. She didn’t know if he had hung up or if the signal had cut out.
The signal bars on her phone turned white again, and Qiao Zhao’s heart sank along with it.
On the dark, silent highway, two cars sat—one parked by the roadside, the other skewed into the green belt not far away.
The rain was too heavy. There were no other cars on the road, making it impossible even to call for help.
Her car’s engine had died, and the temperature inside was dropping rapidly.
Qiao Zhao checked the time. Half an hour ago, she had finally gotten through to the driver. The driver and the police should both be arriving soon.
A moment later, headlights shone from a distance on the empty road, eventually coming to a stop.
A man stepped out of the car. He had a tall, slender build, and the black umbrella he held obscured half of his face.
Whether it was the visible half of his face or that familiar car, both caused Qiao Zhao’s frozen heart to slowly warm up.
Shen Moyan. He had come after all.
As she thought, he was just bad at expressing himself, but he still loved her.
But just as she unbuckled her seatbelt and prepared to open the door, she saw a woman step out of the car parked on the road and rush toward the man.
Amidst the dense curtains of rain, she looked like a moth losing control. “Moyan.”
Shen Moyan caught her. “There was an accident up ahead. I’m late.”
The woman was clutching a birthday cake in her arms, her voice sounding piteous against the sound of the rain. “It’s okay. I’m just happy you could come.”
“Why did you come out in such heavy rain?” Shen Moyan’s tone held a faint note of reproach, yet his underlying affection was palpable.
“To get you a birthday cake, of course.” The woman took the umbrella from his hand.
With practiced chemistry, Shen Moyan picked her up in his arms. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have picked it up.”
The woman replied, “I wanted to give you a surprise.”
Shen Moyan’s footsteps paused as he carried her, glancing toward the car with its lights on in the green belt.
Qiao Zhao’s heart leaped. Would he see her? If he did, what expression would he make?
The woman in his arms glanced over. “Old Zhou will handle it. Let’s go.”
Shen Moyan nodded and carried the woman into the car.
Qiao Zhao’s hand gripped the door handle as her entire body froze.
She knew that woman—Gu Qingxu, her best friend.
Except she never knew when such a relationship had developed between Gu Qingxu and Shen Moyan.
It must have been a long time ago. Looking at how carefully Shen Moyan protected her, she was clearly the one he held closest to his heart.
It was just that three years ago, Gu Qingxu had gone abroad to develop her career, only returning a couple of days ago.
Three years ago?
Qiao Zhao paused. She and Shen Moyan had met at a school anniversary shortly after Gu Qingxu went abroad.
Something seemed to be prying open the cracks of the past, but it flashed by, leaving her with nothing to grasp.
But one thing she was certain of: in these three years of marriage, she was the only one who had fallen deep.
A manager hurried over, practically sliding to Qiao Zhao’s side. “Miss, I am so sorry. The road was slick and I couldn’t brake in time… You’re injured. Shall I take you to the hospital?”
Qiao Zhao’s mind was filled with the image of Shen Moyan carrying that woman. Her brain was a complete blank; she couldn’t hear a single word the man said.
“No need,” she said, her voice raspy.
The manager wanted to say more, but seeing her soul-crushed state, he hesitated. He left a business card. “If you need compensation, please call me.”
With that, he walked away quickly.
Shen Moyan’s car was making a U-turn. The headlights swept across a Bentley parked behind with its lights off. Inside that car, a pair of hawk-like eyes watched everything.
Qiao Zhao leaned against the car door and stood out in the heavy rain.
If this were before, she would have definitely gone forward to confront him, even if it was pointless.
Because he always maintained that calm, water-like demeanor. He wouldn’t get angry with her, and they didn’t even have the typical arguments of an ordinary couple.
She had thought he was humoring her, but now she realized that he perhaps didn’t even have the desire to argue with her.
The headlights grew distant, and Shen Moyan’s car vanished into her blurred vision.
The rain hammered against her body, chilling her to the bone.
Through the curtain of rain, a tall figure approached from the darkness. He didn’t even carry an umbrella, appearing abruptly like a beast that had been lying in wait for a long time.
Qiao Zhao froze in fear. In this ghastly weather, who could possibly be approaching so silently and be a good person?
She immediately turned to get back into the car, but as she went to close the door, the man’s hand blocked it.
“Is this the man you were willing to die to marry?”
The voice was low and cold, like a blade.
Qiao Zhao stiffened.
She was all too familiar with this voice. She had been unable to forget it since she was sixteen.
Only now, it was even more indifferent than before.
She slowly looked up, meeting those increasingly sharp features.
In these three years, she had imagined countless scenarios for meeting Tan Zheng again—in business magazines, news headlines, at banquets, or signing ceremonies.
But she never imagined it would be today, in this kind of place, at this kind of time.
She let out a slow breath. “You saw everything?”
“I told you that you would regret it.” He looked down at her as if passing judgment on a convicted criminal.
Qiao Zhao’s chest felt tight.
“Are you here to mock me?”
“Yes,” he said bluntly.
She simply stepped out of the car and stood up to look him straight in the eye. “Then have you seen enough? You saw my husband carrying another woman, saw my eyes swollen from crying, my face a mess, looking completely pathetic and nearly dead…”
She even took two steps forward to make it easier for him to see clearly.
“Shut up.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice growing a bit hoarse. “This was your own choice. You deserve it even if you die.”
“Yes, I deserve it.” Qiao Zhao stared at him. Tears and blood mixed with the rain, flowing down her pale face in a ghastly manner. “I was the one who wouldn’t listen back then. I brought this on myself. Are you satisfied now, Young Master Tan?”
After speaking, she wiped her face and abandoned the car, walking into the rain.
Tan Zheng stood where he was, his gaze following her. His dark eyes were so deep they seemed bottomless.
Young Master Tan.
It had been years since anyone had called him that.
That title used to be his favorite.
Back in school, he would purposely walk fast so she couldn’t catch up, just so he could hear her call out over and over—
“Young Master Tan, wait for me.”
“Young Master Tan, can you lend me your long legs?”
“Young Master Tan, I’m angry now.”
It was a voice as ethereal as a songbird.
But today, this “Young Master Tan” held none of the lightheartedness of the past; there was only a stinging brokenness.