The door opened from the inside, and a nurse came out carrying a tray—completely empty. There was no one else in the room.
Shen Moyan froze.
Tan Zheng said, “Professor Shen is so interested in my people. Given up on your Tao Yuanming studies, switching to humanities now?”
Seeing the obvious impatience on his face, Shen Moyan didn’t dare push his luck any further.
Although the Shen and Tan families were evenly matched in Jingbei, Tan Zheng had grown increasingly ruthless since taking control of the Tan family.
As for the “brotherly” relationship—that was just a joke among their social circle.
“My apologies.” With that, he turned and left.
He had calmed down too. Qiao Zhao came from an ordinary background—how could two people as different as heaven and earth possibly be connected?
Just as he disappeared around the corner, Qiao Zhao walked over from the other direction.
Tan Zheng withdrew his gaze and looked at her. “Well? Are you dead yet?”
Qiao Zhao looked up at him. “You want me dead that badly?”
“Someone as stupid as you is just wasting medical resources alive.”
The air froze.
After a moment, Qiao Zhao nodded weakly. “I’ll try my best to grant your wish soon.”
With that, she turned and walked out of the hospital.
Peng Yan, standing nearby, explained, “The wound on her forehead is pretty deep. It should be fine if she applies medication on time. She also has a mild concussion and needs plenty of rest.”
“Who asked?” Tan Zheng said coldly, turning to leave quickly.
Peng Yan: “…”
You didn’t ask, so why were you staring at the examination report in my hand?
.
As soon as Qiao Zhao stepped out of the emergency entrance, Tan Zheng shoved her into the car without any explanation.
Honestly, she didn’t even need him to drag her—after the heavy rain, there was no way she’d find a cab anyway. And the little bit of pathetic dignity she had left had long been trampled to pieces by him, so what was one more thing?
When they arrived at Qingwan Villa—the wedding home she shared with Shen Moyan—Qiao Zhao numbly pushed open the car door. “Thanks.”
“Gu Qingxu and Shen Moyan were secretly involved five years ago.” Tan Zheng’s tone was indifferent, as if he were commenting on the weather.
Qiao Zhao’s whole body jolted.
Involved five years ago, went abroad three years ago, and soon after married her.
What was his purpose back then?
Using her as a shield? Or because she was Gu Qingxu’s best friend, using her as a substitute to pine over?
The thought that had flashed through her mind earlier seemed clearer now.
But meeting his cold, dark eyes, she remembered what he had said to her three years ago, before she married Shen Moyan.
So he had known all along, watching her jump into the grave she had dug for herself.
But what could she do? It was her own fault for not knowing what was good for her.
In that instant, Qiao Zhao felt as though her rotting flesh was being torn open from the inside out, laid bare before Tan Zheng. She fled from the car.
Tan Zheng watched her walk into the villa, his gaze deep and unreadable. He instructed Peng Yan in the passenger seat, “Find out how long Gu Qingxu is staying in the country.”
.
The house was pitch dark.
It was Shen Moyan’s birthday, and Qiao Zhao had given Aunt Lin the day off. By the light from outside, she could see the cold, untouched food on the dining table.
She didn’t turn on the lights. She went straight upstairs, entered the bedroom, and switched her SIM card to the backup phone.
The moment it powered on, messages flooded in.
“Zhao Zhao, I’m so sorry. I just got back to the country and got into a car accident. I couldn’t find anyone else to help, so I had to call Moyan. I delayed your plans to celebrate his birthday—I’ll make it up to you both another day.”
“Oh, and he ate the cake I bought. Could you prepare some stomach medicine for him?”
Qiao Zhao didn’t want to reply, but the messages kept coming, all apologies—saying she hadn’t thought things through, that she felt terrible about it.
Her manners were impeccable, but her heart felt as if a fly were stuck in her throat.
She typed back with trembling hands: “Such poor after-sales service—doesn’t it come with the full package?”
The world finally fell silent.
.
Late at night, all was still.
The sound of a car came from outside the courtyard. After a moment, the door opened, he entered the bathroom, and soon the sound of running water followed.
Qiao Zhao clutched the blanket, her mind in a jumble.
Until the bathroom door opened, and a faint scent of sandalwood permeated the air.
Shen Moyan lay down on the other side of the bed.
She could barely sense his presence, because between them, there was room for two or three more people.
Ever since their marriage, he had always been like this.
Either he stayed in the school dormitory, or he came home and fell asleep immediately. In these three years, the most intimate gesture they had shared was holding hands.
He said he had to observe mourning rites and could not overstep.
She had been puzzled at the time—what era was this, to still have such rules—but she believed him anyway.
What a filial son indeed.
For the sake of his true love, he had managed to remain chaste for three years.
Qiao Zhao turned over and slipped her hand into his pajamas.
Without any technique, without any desire, she recklessly pressed and squeezed at his waist with fierce abandon.
Shen Moyan’s breath hitched. He grabbed her hand, his voice hoarse, “Qiao Zhao.”
She felt as if doused with a bucket of cold water. She turned over and lay flat on her back, clenching her teeth in pain.
The movement had pulled at the wound on her forehead.
Luckily, the lights were off, so he couldn’t see.
But even if he did, he wouldn’t care.
Shen Moyan steadied his breathing for a moment, then sat up. “There’s still a month until the third anniversary of Grandfather’s passing. How about we become true husband and wife then? I’m too tired today—I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
With that, he didn’t wait for Qiao Zhao’s response, got out of bed, and walked away.
“Shen Moyan.” His hand was on the doorknob when she suddenly called out to him. “I only want to ask you one question—what did you do tonight?”
“Accompanied my superiors.” Shen Moyan answered without hesitation, then opened the door and left.
In the pitch-dark room, Qiao Zhao stared at her phone. On it was a message Gu Qingxu had sent three minutes ago: Zhao Zhao, are you misunderstanding something? Moyan and I really have nothing going on.
Qiao Zhao’s lips curled in a mocking sneer.
Nothing going on? Then why did he need to lie?
She tossed the phone aside, as if discarding something filthy, got up, and went to the bathroom. She turned on the tap and washed her hands inside and out three times.
The thought that his body had touched another woman, or even worse, made her feel sick.
Even if he hadn’t stopped her, she wouldn’t have continued anyway—she had only wanted to tear off that hypocritical mask of his.
But seeing his sanctimonious demeanor, she felt it was all so pointless.
Qiao Zhao looked at herself in the mirror—hair disheveled, eyes red and swollen.
She splashed a handful of water, blurring the haggard reflection in the mirror.
Back in the bedroom, she picked up her phone and sent a message: Prepare a divorce agreement for me.
It was already past midnight. No one replied. She lay down and went to sleep.
She didn’t sleep well that night and even ran a fever.
Fortunately, the doctor who had treated her wound was attentive—seeing that she had been caught in the rain, he had also prescribed cold and fever medicine.
After taking the medicine, she drifted in a daze for two or three hours. The next morning, she was woken by the phone ringing.
On the line, Lu Yao was so furious she sounded ready to bite someone to death: “That batch of ‘High-Cesium Copper’ is gone.”
Qiao Zhao snapped awake instantly: “What do you mean, gone?”
Lu Yao: “I asked Manager Zhang of Shen Corporation’s procurement department. He said it was Shen Moyan’s decision—it’s been used for other purposes.”
“High-Cesium Copper” is a material used in making fireworks, extremely special, with only the Shen and Tan families holding import qualifications. Previously, she had smoothed things over through the Shen family’s connections, and the goods were scheduled to be delivered today.
Qiao Zhao: “Let me call and ask.”
But Lu Yao hesitated, then said, “I sent you a link. Take a look first.”
The headline read: “Gu Qingxu’s First Performance After Returning Home—Mysterious Professor Boyfriend to Host a Fireworks Show, Recreating the Long-Lost ‘Blue Moonlight'”
High-Cesium Copper was the essential material for creating Blue Moonlight.
The article practically spelled out “Shen Moyan” in bold letters.
Qiao Zhao clutched her phone, her fingers slowly going numb.
For this batch of High-Cesium Copper, she had risen early and stayed up late, accompanying Shen Moyan’s mother at mahjong, shopping, and opera performances—enduring countless forced smiles and spouting baskets of flattering words.
Because Shen’s father was too busy to be seen, and Shen Moyan claimed he didn’t handle the family business and couldn’t help, she could only work on her mother-in-law.
She had pressed her warm face against someone else’s cold backside, inch by inch, to earn this.
And he turned around and used it to win a smile from his old flame.
Qiao Zhao closed her eyes, her nails digging into her palms, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.