When Qiao Zhao arrived at the Shen Group, Father Shen was in a meeting. Twenty minutes later, the door to the reception room finally opened.
She rose, nodding slightly. “Uncle.”
Father Shen, dressed in a dark suit with an imposing air that needed no words, paused briefly in his seat at her address of “Uncle,” a flicker of confusion passing through his eyes.
When she had married into the family, he had refused to acknowledge her as his daughter-in-law and forbade her from calling him “Father.”
Yet Qiao Zhao had always responded with a calm, gentle smile, addressing him as propriety dictated, regardless of his objections. He wondered what had changed today.
It was only when she slid the divorce agreement across the table that understanding dawned in his eyes. “What made you come around?”
Qiao Zhao’s gaze was steady. “Some things—time helps me see them clearly.”
Father Shen flipped through the documents. Before the marriage, he had forced her to sign an agreement behind Shen Moyan’s back, so she would leave with nothing. There was nothing to dispute there. But when he saw the power of attorney, he faltered. “Moyan doesn’t know?”
“No.”
Father Shen was a perceptive man, and Qiao Zhao had no intention of hiding it.
His gaze deepened, and his tone carried a note of regret. “You’ve been flawless these past three years. To be honest, I’m no longer as opposed as I once was.”
Qiao Zhao felt no joy in those words.
Three years—she had worked tirelessly to earn the Shen family’s approval, and she had succeeded. Yet in the end, she discovered that this marriage was nothing more than a carefully crafted deception.
She looked at Father Shen. “I regret not listening to you back then. But I’m also grateful that I’m making this decision now.”
Father Shen asked no further questions. “Very well. Leave it to me. You’ll have your divorce certificate in a month. But the company has a major collaborative project underway, and the Shen family cannot afford any negative publicity before then. I hope you’ll cooperate where needed. Once you receive the certificate, you’ll be given a substantial compensation.”
“Rest assured on that front. Shen Moyan has never publicly disclosed my identity,” Qiao Zhao said.
“That’s to the public. Within our circles, it can’t be hidden.”
“I understand.”
Conveniently enough, there was also something she wanted from the Shen family.
With business concluded, Qiao Zhao rose to take her leave. As she closed the door, she faintly overheard Father Shen’s assistant reporting, “Chairman Shen, the Chu family of Haicheng has sent an invitation. The Patriarch Chu’s birthday banquet will be held at Puyue Mountain in two days…”
.
Emerging from the Shen Group building, Qiao Zhao headed to an old office building on the outskirts of the city.
The stairwell was dim and narrow, the elevator walls peeling with chipped paint, the numbers on the buttons worn beyond recognition.
On the ninth floor, she pushed open the door at the end of the corridor. Lu Yao was on the phone.
Seeing her, Lu Yao ended the call and walked over, noticing her slightly pale complexion. “Are you alright?”
She was referring to the news about Shen Moyan and Gu Qingxu.
A smile curved at the corner of Qiao Zhao’s lips. “Never better. Truly, better than ever. Tell me about the High-Cesium Copper—are there any other channels?”
Lu Yao replied, “Manager Wang from Xinke said the Chu family in Haicheng has a batch. In stock.”
Qiao Zhao’s eyes lit up.
But Lu Yao slumped in dejection. “However, the new head of the Chu family is mysterious and eccentric. Where are we supposed to find them?”
Qiao Zhao recalled what she had overheard at the Shen Group. “I have an idea. We’ll head to Haicheng in two days.”
“Alright.”
“By the way, help me rent a place in the next couple of days. Nothing too big—just clean will do,” Qiao Zhao said.
“What for?”
“I’m divorcing Shen Moyan.”
Lu Yao froze, assuming it was because of the Gu Qingxu matter. “Well done.”
Then, worried she might have acted on impulse, she added, “But honestly, he never mistreated you in other ways. Won’t you regret this?”
Qiao Zhao pressed her lips together, too lazy to talk about what had happened these past two days. She only said, “When he was jerking off, he was calling out ‘Xuxu.'”
At the time, she had been outside the bathroom and thought she’d misheard. Now everything clicked into place.
Lu Yao’s head was buzzing. She truly hadn’t expected that someone as ascetic and restrained as Shen Moyan could be so utterly shameless.
She was disgusted enough to curse, but in the end, she just hugged Qiao Zhao with heartache. “Leave the house to me.”
.
Qiao Zhao left the company and went home, starting to pack her things.
Clothes, jewelry, handbags—she packed everything up, planning to sell them later for cash. Anyway, she’d made him sign the voluntary gift agreement.
Shen Moyan didn’t manage the company, but he took dividends every year and was very generous financially.
Because of that, she’d never suspected him before.
Now she finally realized, foolishly, that the agreement Father Shen had forced her to sign also covered gifts he’d given her during the marriage.
Did he really not know about that agreement?
“What are you doing?” Shen Moyan’s elegant voice came from behind her, catching her off guard.
Qiao Zhao turned around, not knowing when he’d come back. She looked at him standing in the doorway. “Don’t like them anymore. Don’t want them.”
Shen Moyan bent down and picked up one of the gift boxes, opening it. “These earrings—didn’t you used to like them a lot?”
“You said it yourself. Used to.”
“Well then, that’s perfect. Out with the old, in with the new.” Shen Moyan handed her a brand-new gift box. “Those really are outdated.”
Qiao Zhao took it, glanced at it, and casually tossed it into the pile of boxes on the floor.
Shen Moyan frowned. “Don’t like it?”
“Shen Moyan.” Qiao Zhao looked at him. “I don’t have pierced ears.”
Shen Moyan abruptly looked at her bare earlobes, his gaze freezing.
Earrings, ear cuffs—he’d given her so many, and she’d always accepted them with a smile. He’d never once noticed that she had nowhere to wear them.
He opened his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You… never told me.”
“Gu Qingxu loves earrings the most.” Qiao Zhao looked at him with a flat gaze.
Shen Moyan’s brows furrowed slightly. “This has nothing to do with her.”
“Please move aside. You’re blocking me.” Qiao Zhao said.
Shen Moyan wanted to say more, but just then his phone rang.
“Moyan.” A woman’s hoarse voice came through as he answered. “My throat feels uncomfortable.”
A singer—her voice was her livelihood. His gaze sharpened.
“I know a specialist in this area. Wait for me.” Shen Moyan hung up and turned to leave in a hurry, but paused when he met her sweeping gaze. “I have something urgent. I need to step out.”
Qiao Zhao lowered her eyes and nodded.
“I’ll bring you another gift when I’m back.” He added.
She nodded again.
Seeing her docile demeanor, not seeming angry, Shen Moyan turned and left.
As he closed the door, he suddenly noticed the bare wall above the headboard. That strange, uneasy feeling surged up in his heart again. “Qiao Zhao, where’s our wedding photo?”
She hadn’t wanted to respond, just wanted him to leave quickly, but at this mention, Qiao Zhao couldn’t hold back. She raised her eyes and looked straight at him. “It was a photoshopped fake. Threw it away.”
They’d never had a wedding ceremony, hadn’t even taken wedding photos. He’d said his grandfather had just passed away, so it wasn’t convenient.
She’d believed him. But it turned out his grandfather’s death was just his all-purpose excuse.
Shen Moyan looked at her reddened eyes, and for no reason, something in his chest twisted.
He felt like she wasn’t talking about the wedding photo at all—she was talking about him.
He walked back, reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling. “It’s fine. In a while, we’ll shoot the real thing.”
Qiao Zhao only felt disgusted and was about to push him away when his phone rang.
He moved first, instinctively pushing Qiao Zhao aside.
Qiao Zhao glanced at the incoming call and understood everything.
So the reminder call had arrived. If this were ancient times, he would surely have earned a “loyal and unwavering” memorial archway—even she, a woman, couldn’t help but give him a thumbs up.