May in Jingcheng had already turned sultry, yet Lin Zhou felt a sharp chill running through her body. She sat on the sofa, expressionless, staring at the wedding photo on the wall. Her hollow eyes were red-rimmed, a sour ache gnawing at her chest.
She and Chengdu had been in a six-year-long relationship, about to reach its culmination. The wedding photos were taken, invitations were being prepared, and in a month, their parents would gather in Jingcheng to discuss the details of the wedding. And yet, Chengdu had cheated.
At noon, she had gone to Chengdu’s law firm to see him, only to witness her fiancé saying a reluctant farewell with another woman outside his office building. She watched as Chengdu wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist, helped her into the newest Maserati, and waved at her with a lingering smile.
When he turned, his eyes met Lin Zhou’s pale face.
Chengdu’s expression shifted from shock to guilt to casual acceptance—all within seconds.
“I was going to find the right time to tell you, but I guess that’s unnecessary now. What you saw is the truth. Let’s part amicably,” Chengdu said shamelessly as he stepped in front of Lin Zhou.
Lin Zhou stared straight at him, the man she had imagined spending her life with—still graceful, dressed in a sharply tailored suit that highlighted his upright posture. Where she had once found his handsome, refined features pleasing, now they seemed painfully glaring.
“Fine.” Lin Zhou had always been calm, unfazed by circumstances. No matter how difficult the problems at work, she had always met them with equanimity.
Habits are powerful. She could even remain composed in matters of the heart. “Handle your parents yourself. I won’t trouble you on my side.” Since they were breaking up, both should remain dignified. The most troublesome matter was the apartment.
Their marital home, bought three years ago under both their names with a joint mortgage, now seemed a reminder of how naive she had been to believe in love.
“I don’t want the apartment. If you want it, return the money to me, and it’s yours. If not, sell it and we’ll split the money evenly,” Lin Zhou said, her heart aching but her composure intact. There was no lingering attachment, only dignity.
Hearing this, Chengdu laughed self-mockingly. “Sure enough, you’ve hardly any feelings left for me.”
He seemed intent on justifying the breakup. “Lin Zhou, I don’t feel any guilt for betraying you. Over the years, my ‘green pastures’ have grown ever more lush. Rather than betraying you, it’s more that I could no longer bear being restrained, which led to this outcome.”
“Chengdu, you truly amaze me,” she said, incredulous. Was this the man she had loved for six years, washing off all responsibility like water off a duck’s back? Had she been blind?
“Ever heard of ‘assistants with work, assistants with nothing to do’?” he muttered, filth spilling from his mouth as though describing something ordinary.
Lin Zhou clenched her anger, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She had never imagined these words coming from the man she loved, words that completely overturned her perception of Chengdu. A person intent on shirking responsibility could say anything, do anything.
“Ha…” Lin Zhou slowly opened her eyes, a contemptuous smile replacing her initial fury. She said sarcastically, “You’ve endured all these years, haven’t you? Truly admirable. Indeed, even an elite like Lawyer Cheng can bend and yield when it comes to money.”
Back when Chengdu was still an intern, he had said that though they were both assistants, their salaries differed greatly. The man who once endlessly praised her, calling her wonderful, had secretly looked down on her career. Wouldn’t he feel the sting of his own words now?
Chengdu’s expression flickered at her reminder, but years of climbing the professional ladder had armored him. He shrugged indifferently. “Say what you want. At this point, we owe each other nothing.”
“Truly, neither owes the other anything.”
Lin Zhou stared straight at the wedding photo on the wall. The man was handsome, the woman delicate, a picture-perfect couple.
The photo was taken earlier this year in Hainan. The reason was simple: Lin Zhou had accompanied her boss on a business trip there and had been able to spare half a day to complete this milestone in her life.
Chengdu had once mocked himself, saying that even as her fiancé, he was not half as important as her work.
Indeed, Lin Zhou was a workaholic. As the president’s assistant, she managed everything, from major affairs to minor details. She embraced her workaholism, largely for the lucrative salary. Money could make ghosts turn mills, and she proved it.
Born in the countryside, Lin Zhou had fought tooth and nail to get into B University. To others, being an assistant might have seemed a waste of her talent, but earning a twenty-thousand annual salary right out of college left her indifferent to opinions.
Gold always shines, and she has proven it. Seven years of dedication had carried her from ordinary assistant to the president’s indispensable right hand. At 29, she was indispensable to the company, a career triumph.
Yet her love life had ended in total failure, a stark contrast to her unshakable professional image.
Lin Zhou no longer looked back. She stood from the sofa, dragging her suitcase, leaving the “home” she had once dreamed of for years without a backward glance.