Zhao Xinran got off work early today. Sitting in the back seat, she rubbed her tired temples and called out to Zhang Nan in the front seat: “Zhang Nan, help me find a quiet, reliable housekeeper this week.”
“Yes, President Zhao,” Zhang Nan replied, opening the notes app on her phone to jot down Zhao Xinran’s request and, while she was at it, crossing off the previous completed task.
Silence fell once more inside the car. Zhao Xinran leaned back into the soft leather seat and slowly closed her eyes.
“President Zhao, we’re here.” When they arrived at the villa’s entrance, Zhang Nan noticed Zhao Xinran’s closed eyes and reminded her softly.
“Mm.” Zhao Xinran wasn’t actually asleep; she had simply been caught off guard by Pei Hongwen’s sudden demand for a divorce.
She was still trying to gauge how serious he really was.
When she first heard it that morning, her initial reaction was to play it cool—avoiding him at work. She hadn’t paid it much mind then, casually pushing it to the back of her mind to focus entirely on her work.
All day long, she hadn’t received a single message from Pei Hongwen.
Normally, his messages would arrive punctually at noon and 5:00 p.m. every day.
At noon, he would remind her to eat on time and make sure to take a nap.
She usually didn’t reply to that message.
At 5:00 p.m., he would ask her if she was working late that day and if the dishes he’d prepared were okay.
Zhao Xinran would simply reply “yes” or “no” to “working late” and “eating.”
She rarely worked late; aside from business trips, she went home for dinner almost every day.
Now that Pei Hongwen wanted a divorce, he didn’t even want to cook for her anymore.
With a cold expression, Zhao Xinran got out of the car, pretending not to care. In her suit pocket were the gemstone cufflinks her secretary had picked out that afternoon, and she walked slowly toward the front door.
She unlocked the door with facial recognition. The spacious villa was deathly quiet—not a sound to be heard.
Pei Hongwen wasn’t home.
She slipped on her slippers, strolled over to the sofa, and sat down. For the first time, she looked up and carefully surveyed this “home”—the house she and Pei Hongwen had shared since their marriage.
It was, in a sense, the “dowry” the Pei family had given her.
Behind the nearly ten-meter-long floor-to-ceiling windows, a large patch of sunflowers had been planted. Roses had originally grown there, but Zhao Xinran didn’t like roses—plants that were inherently delicate. She preferred sunflowers, which symbolized robust vitality.
So the plants had been replaced.
Yet, even after the sunflowers had been planted and bloomed several times over, she had never once stopped to look at them.
Zhao Xinran tugged at the corners of her mouth, stood up, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. She strained to pull the curtains shut, but they didn’t budge an inch.
She felt a bit annoyed and, in her frustration, pulled even harder. The curtains, with their elaborate and intricate patterns, gave off a creaking sound in her hands, as if warning her that any more force would ruin them completely.
“Snap…”
Zhao Xinran let go and glanced back. The man stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light. He bent down to change his shoes, set his bag down in the entryway, and even smoothed out the slightly wrinkled hem of his shirt before turning to look at her by the window: “Xinran, are you trying to close the curtains? They’re electric.
A surge of inexplicable anger flared up inside her. Zhao Xinran didn’t know what exactly was making her so angry—whether it was because the CEO of Kangtai had looked down on her, or because Pei Hongwen had inexplicably demanded a divorce, or simply because she’d lived in this villa for five years yet knew next to nothing about it—not even that the curtains were electric.
Unaware of her thoughts, Pei Hongwen took the remote control from the entryway drawer, raised his hand, and pressed the button to close the curtains.
In the next second, the curtains—which Zhao Xinran had been unable to close no matter how hard she tried—slowly drew shut, the heavy fabric closing without making a single sound.
“During the renovation back then, we originally planned to install a whole-house smart system, but since artificial intelligence wasn’t fully developed at the time, we didn’t go through with it. We just upgraded to electric curtains. I guess you’d forgotten. Next time we renovate, we can install a whole-house smart system—it’ll be much more convenient.” ” Pei Hongwen casually slipped the remote into his pocket and slowly approached Zhao Xinran. Standing beneath the curtains, her somewhat somber expression was gradually swallowed by the darkness. A mocking curve formed at the corner of her mouth, and malice consumed her: “Aren’t you the one who wants a divorce? What ‘next renovation’ are you talking about? After the divorce, in what capacity would I, Zhao Xinran, still be living in your Pei family’s house?”
Pei Hongwen stopped in his tracks. The last vestige of light was swallowed by the darkness. Neither of them turned on the lights; they simply stood at opposite corners of the living room, staring at each other.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? Pei Hongwen!” Zhao Xinnan’s voice wasn’t loud, but her words were spoken with such force that they struck Pei Hongwen’s ears like a thunderclap. He bit his lip, wanting to explain but unsure how to put it into words, so he simply fell silent, standing there stiff as a board.
“Pei Hongwen, Young Master Pei, do you find it amusing to toy with me like this? Marry when you want, divorce when you want? I—your wife—after five years of marriage—am I to receive nothing but a single notification?” Zhao Xinran approached him step by step. When she was three steps away, she too came to a halt. She tilted her head back to look at him, but could see nothing but those beautiful, deep eyes.
“Click!” Pei Hongwen pressed the remote control, and the living room lights came on. The soft, warm yellow glow cast a gentle light over the two of them, who stood on the brink of a confrontation.
Zhao Xinran stared at Pei Hongwen. Never before had her resentment and jealousy built up as much as they had at this very moment, ready to erupt at any second.
It was a divorce, after all—what gave him, Pei Hongwen, the right to bring it up offhand without a second thought, as if he were casually discussing what to have for dinner?
But come to think of it, a divorce wouldn’t affect his life or career in the slightest; in fact, it would even allow him to marry a new wife in the future—someone of equal social standing who would further benefit his career.
Pei Hongwen’s expression remained calm. As he watched Zhao Xinran’s face turn livid with rage at his mention of divorce, he couldn’t help but feel a secret sense of glee.
She still cared about him.
“Speak up, Pei Hongwen.”
“Xinran, don’t you think our marriage is rather abnormal?”
“How is it abnormal?” Zhao Xinran furrowed her brow. She completely rejected Pei Hongwen’s assertion; she felt their marital relationship was absolutely perfect—it was her ideal vision of marriage.
She had someone standing unconditionally behind her, supporting her and lifting her up.
When she was tired, there was a light waiting for her at home; when she was hungry, there was a meal waiting for her.
Pei Hongwen had done all of this for her. She was very satisfied and content, and she was doing her best to reciprocate his love.
How could this possibly be abnormal?
“A normal marital relationship is one where spouses support each other and love each other deeply…” Pei Hongwen’s deep eyes fixed intently on Zhao Xinran: “Xinran, ask yourself honestly—do you truly love me? Did you really marry me because you loved me?”
“……” Zhao Xinran looked into Pei Hongwen’s serious gaze and suddenly felt like laughing. Of course she didn’t have something as cheap as “love.”
How many couples in this world actually marry out of love? He must think he’s the male lead in a novel—with nothing better to do all day than talk about love…
They got married so she could inherit the Pei family business and shoulder the family’s burdens for him, allowing him to focus entirely on his studies. Wasn’t that a win-win situation?
Or was he regretting it now? Was he spouting all this nonsense just to get a divorce?
Zhao Xinran let out a cold laugh and replied, “Pei Hongwen, if you’d just said you’d cheated on me and found someone new, I, Zhao Xinran, would have agreed to a divorce without a second thought. But here you are, going on and on about ‘love’ and all that.”
“How old are you? How old are you this year? Isn’t that childish?”
Pei Hongwen sighed, a sorrowful smile on his face. “Xinran, look—you don’t even know what love is… You don’t love me at all; you’re not even willing to tell a white lie to comfort me.”
“…Pei Hongwen, what exactly are you trying to say? You’re thirty years old this year, about to graduate with your PhD—you’re no longer a child. I don’t believe you don’t understand what our marriage means to me.” Zhao Xinran looked at the silent Pei Hongwen and suddenly realized something. She closed her eyes tightly, finally understanding why Pei Hongwen was so determined to bring up divorce at this critical moment.
Love? It’s all bullshit.
She, Zhao Xinnan, had helped him, Pei Hongwen, withstand the pressure from the Pei family, sparing him from having to inherit the family business prematurely so he could continue his studies as he pleased. She’d even persuaded Pei’s father to let him transfer from the clinical medicine program at University A to the bioengineering program at University B.
Now that she’d built the company into a thriving business and Pei Hongwen was about to graduate with his Ph.D., he was ready to reap the rewards.
He wanted a divorce—to strip Zhao Xinnan of everything she’d fought so hard to achieve over the years.
And to top it all off, he’d labeled her as someone who never truly loved him, as if he, Pei Hongwen, were the pitiful victim who’d suffered the most in this marriage.
She’d underestimated him…
The more Zhao Xinnan analyzed the situation, the angrier she became. Staring at that face—both familiar and yet a stranger to her—she finally reached her breaking point. She strode forward, grabbed Pei Hongwen by the collar, and curled her lips in scorn: “Now that you’ve gotten your PhD just as you wanted, and I’ve lost my usefulness to you, you’re planning to divorce me, take ‘Xinpei’ away, and take my place? I’m telling you—don’t even think about it.”
Pei Hongwen looked at her with a sorrowful expression, though it was unclear whether he was saddened by his failure to win her heart all these years or by her current ruthless suspicion.
His silence only made the fire of anger burn even brighter in Zhao Xinran’s heart. Over the years, her personality had grown increasingly domineering and intolerant of defiance. Receiving no response, she released her grip on his collar, grabbed his arm from behind, and shoved him to the ground.
“Thud!” Pei Hongwen crashed onto the carpet. Dazed, he looked up at Zhao Xinran, who was towering over him. His lips parted, but no words came out: “……”
His silence once again infuriated Zhao Xinran. She knelt on one knee, clamped her thumb and forefinger against his neck, narrowed her eyes as she leaned in close, and said, enunciating each word clearly, “I won’t let you have your way. Divorce? Don’t even think about it.”
Pei Hongwen stared blankly at the enraged woman, licked his parched lips, and struggled to speak: “ Xinran, Xinpei is the company you built from scratch. I won’t take a single cent—not even anything from after we got married. I’ve already drafted the divorce agreement; it’s right here in my bag. If there’s anything you’re not satisfied with, you can change it.”
Zhao Xinran regained her composure. She slowly released her grip, stared at the man for a moment with a complex expression, then got up to fetch Pei Hongwen’s bag from the entryway.
Pei Hongwen lay on the floor, his gaze wrapped around Zhao Xinran with near-greed. What a golden opportunity.
He should let Xinran strangle him to death—that way, once he was gone, she’d remember him for the rest of her life, and his tombstone would be engraved with the five characters: [Husband of Zhao Xinran].
But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it—he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing Zhao Xinran again.
He opened the divorce agreement. At a glance, it was all about the division of assets—everything was awarded to her.
Party A voluntarily waives all marital property.
Party A: Pei Hongwen
If it hadn’t been for the five large characters “Divorce Agreement” at the top, Zhao Xinran would have thought she was holding Pei Hongwen’s suicide note.
She stood in the entryway, holding the divorce agreement, her back to Pei Hongwen. “Why?” she asked.
Pei Hongwen, lying on the floor, did not respond. He simply stared at Zhao Xinran’s back, allowing his gaze to linger one last time.
“Why? I’m asking you why you’re doing this?” Zhao Xinran spun around abruptly, her chest heaving violently. She couldn’t fathom it, nor could she understand why someone like Pei Hongwen existed.
“Love…” Because I love you, Zhao Xinnan. Because I love you, I’m letting you go and giving you everything I have as a gift.
Pei Hongwen’s voice was so soft that Zhao Xinnan couldn’t make it out. She hurried forward, knelt on one knee, grabbed Pei Hongwen by the collar, and asked again, “Why on earth are you doing this?”
“Zhao Xinran, you don’t love me at all. I’ve had enough of your domineering ways, enough of being pinned down by you, enough of this life where you summon me at will and cast me aside just as easily. I want a divorce.” Pei Hongwen’s lips curved slightly into a smile, but as he smiled, tears began to fall: “Zhao Xinran, I love you… If you can’t return that love equally, then let me go.”
“Until you agree, the news of our divorce won’t be made public. Neither the media nor my parents will find out. The divorce won’t affect you, and it certainly won’t affect Xinpei.”
He really couldn’t hold back any longer. In this unresponsive marriage, he’d worn himself down into a dry well—and the outcome would be either devouring Zhao Xinran or devouring himself.
Zhao Xinran stared at him in a daze, watching his cheeks flush crimson, his neck still bearing the mottled marks from last night, as he rasped out his words, all dignity lost.
He was accusing her, yet at the same time, he was humbly pleading with her.
In that instant, Zhao Xinran felt an unprecedented exhaustion, as if all her strength had been drained.
She suddenly wanted to ask him: What exactly is love?
Is it more important than money?
In the end, she didn’t ask. She slowly released her grip on his collar, letting him collapse to the floor. She rose in silence, pulled a black ballpoint pen from his bag, and signed her name on the divorce agreement.
“We’ll go to the Civil Affairs Bureau tomorrow morning. Everything will be just as you wish.”
When the call from home came in, Pei Hongwen was still lying on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling he’d personally supervised the painting of.
It wasn’t until the second call came in that he snapped out of it. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed the answer button.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Hongwen, is Xinran with you right now?”
“No.” Pei Hongwen glanced toward the stairs and added, “She’s taking a shower.”
“Hmm, Hongwen, Mom doesn’t mean to lecture you, but you turned down that well-matched young lady from a good family and insisted on marrying Xinran—and we agreed. You said you’d wait until after you finished your PhD to think about having children, and we agreed to that too. Last year, when you insisted on extending your studies for another year, we didn’t say a word. Now that you’re about to graduate with your PhD, shouldn’t you start thinking about having a child?”
“Mom, it’s fine if you say this to me, but please don’t bring it up in front of Xinran.”
“I know, but Hongwen, you’re about to turn thirty. If you don’t get a move on, there could be complications with having a child. You’re a medical student—you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“……” Tan Zhilan was silent for a moment, then said, “Son, tell Mom the truth—is it you who doesn’t want to have a child, or is it Xinran?”
“……”