When Shen Chengyan returned home, it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.
Jiang Yu was sprawled on the sofa in a lazy “Ge You slump,” playing a game.
The moment he walked into the living room, he heard a string of curses from her mouth:
“Your mom f***— I’ll fing see what you— if you mess this up again I’ll f—!”
Even a grown man like Shen Chengyan couldn’t stand how dirty her language was.
Jiang Yu quickly noticed him too, and swallowed the rest of the curse she hadn’t finished.
She was already annoyed with him to the point of death, and didn’t want to give him a good face. But thinking of the “sky-high divorce settlement,” she forcibly suppressed her irritation.
She forced a response. “Why are you back so early today?”
Shen Chengyan took off his coat. “Did you cook?”
Jiang Yu stared at him.
Just stared.
Sky-high divorce settlement. Sky-high divorce settlement. Sky-high divorce settlement.
She exited the game and put her phone down.
“You’re hungry?” she said lightly. “I’ll cook for you then.”
He didn’t respond and instead opened the fridge, took out a bottle of water, and drank.
Jiang Yu rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen.
Shen Chengyan watched her while drinking.
The kitchen was open-plan, with a large island in the middle. Wearing an apron, Jiang Yu was preparing ingredients under the tap, her face expressionless.
After a moment, he spoke slowly.
“If you don’t want to cook, you don’t have to. I’m not forcing you.”
Jiang Yu forced a smile. “I want to. Who said I don’t? Go watch TV. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
He placed the half-finished water bottle down.
“Did you go to the company to see me?”
She didn’t even look up. “I went in the afternoon, just to pass time.”
“And then why did you leave?”
“Got bored waiting.”
Then she added sweetly, “Oh right, hubby, can you unblock me? I can’t reach you when I call. I’d worry.”
Her voice was soft, almost dripping with affection.
“Hubby” came out one after another, gentle and obedient.
This version of her was completely different from the irritated, explosive woman of the past few days.
Which one was the real her?
Shen Chengyan stared at her for a long time.
When she looked up again, he had already gone to the sofa and was playing with his phone.
Half an hour later, three dishes and a soup were placed on the table.
“Your favorites,” Jiang Yu said, sitting opposite him and handing him chopsticks. “Try them.”
He drank the soup, ate stir-fried eggplant and vegetables, but didn’t touch the chicken stew with mushrooms.
Confused, she asked, “Why aren’t you eating your favorite dish?”
He asked instead, “Why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“What did you eat?”
“Just some snacks.”
He glanced at her but said nothing.
Then he asked again, “Why did you leave before waiting for me?”
Jiang Yu paused.
Actually, she had originally planned to wait for him.
When they had just married, she once suggested bringing him lunch at work.
But he had said there was no need—important executives had dedicated catering, and she didn’t need to trouble herself.
She had thought he was being considerate of her.
Later, she learned no one at the company even knew who she was, while everyone treated Hu Youyue with respect.
That day, she even heard employees gossiping, wondering if Hu Youyue was Mrs. Shen.
And in a moment of impulse, she had actually gone over and said she was the real Mrs. Shen.
That Hu Youyue was just a mistress.
The way those people looked at her then…
She suddenly realized how ridiculous she must have seemed.
There was no need anymore.
They were going to divorce anyway.
The more harmonious they were, the faster it would end.
So she left without hesitation.
Now he asked again, “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
She lowered her eyes and smiled faintly.
“You’re so busy. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He knew she was lying.
At least from the surveillance footage, she had clearly been unhappy when she left.
He drank some soup and said, almost as if explaining, “My high school teacher came today. He used to be both my and Hu Youyue’s teacher. She just came to see him.”
Jiang Yu only responded softly, “Oh.”
He continued, “Her studio has business dealings with Shen Group. She comes occasionally for meetings. That’s why employees know her.”
Jiang Yu scooped more soup and drank half of it, then said calmly, “Can we talk?”
If it had been before, she would have been happy that he was explaining.
Now she didn’t care.
He was silent for a moment. “Talk about what?”
Jiang Yu placed the divorce agreement on the table.
His appetite vanished instantly.
Still gentle in tone, she said, “Avoidance doesn’t solve anything. Let’s talk properly this time, like adults.”
She pushed the document toward him.
“I’ve revised it several times with my lawyer. I’m not trying to take advantage. Read it while you eat.”
Only then did he understand.
So the reason she had cooked dinner, and the reason she hadn’t thrown a tantrum… was just to wait for this moment.
He suddenly let out a laugh.
Then he asked, “Do you know what food I hate the most?”
Jiang Yu was confused.
“You hate coriander the most.”
He looked straight at her.
“I hate the chicken stew with mushrooms you’ve made for me for five years.”
Jiang Yu froze.
He put down his chopsticks and finally picked up the divorce agreement.
The room fell silent.
Only the faint sound of paper flipping remained.
Jiang Yu stared at the egg-drop soup in her bowl, brows unconsciously tightening. She bit her finger again—an old habit.
Whenever she was stuck in difficult thoughts, she would chew on her nails without realizing it.
He hates chicken stew with mushrooms?
Impossible.
He had always liked it.
She had cooked it for five years.
If he didn’t like it, why had he never said anything?
Was he too tolerant… or was she too oblivious?
“Stop biting,” his voice cut through her thoughts. “You’re going to bite your finger off.”
She snapped back to reality.
“Finished reading?” she asked.
He set the contract aside. “Yes.”
“Any objections? I can have my lawyer revise it.”
He leaned back, suddenly irritated.
“This time you only want fifty million?”
“Would you even give me a hundred million?”
“Why do you think I’d give you fifty million?”
She held back her temper. “Seriously? Fifty million is nothing to you. I worked like a donkey for five years and even gave you a child. Asking for fifty million is too much?”
He tugged at his tie, clearly impatient.
“Do you even understand the job market? How hard it is to find work now? You’ve never had a proper job, no experience, no skills. After the divorce, what can you do? You’ll just end up living off nothing.”