In the morning, Nan Chu woke up with aches all over her body. The first thing she did after grabbing her phone was to break up with Lu Si.
“We’re not getting the certificate. We’re done.”
There was silence on the other end. After a moment, Lu Si spoke: “I already told you I was busy with work yesterday afternoon. When can’t we get the certificate? Can you stop throwing a tantrum?”
Nan Chu closed her sore, stinging eyes. Her mind was filled with the image of Lu Si passionately kissing another woman in bed.
“What kind of work requires you to be busy in bed?”
“…Nan Chu, if you hadn’t kept refusing me, how could I have—”
“So you’re saying your cheating is my fault?”
Nan Chu laughed out loud, but tears slid down the corners of her eyes.
She hung up, blocked and deleted his number, then tossed her phone aside.
Her head hurt, her throat hurt, her whole body hurt—as if she had never hurt this much before.
Ten years. From high school to college to graduation, she had chased after Lu Si for ten years.
Lu Si said he didn’t want to make their relationship public because it would affect his acting career, so she kept it a secret.
When Lu Si got into a car accident and his acting work came to a halt, she put aside her own career to take care of him wholeheartedly.
It wasn’t until last year, when he became hugely popular thanks to a period drama, that his work grew busier and busier, and the words he spoke to her grew fewer and fewer.
Yesterday was supposed to be the day they got their marriage certificate. She never got to see Lu Si—instead, she witnessed Lu Si tangled up with another woman in bed.
The bitter ache surged uncontrollably into her eyes, and along with it, memories of the past flooded in, tearing and shredding apart into fragments.
In her daze, a clear, pleasant male voice suddenly sounded by her ear.
“You’re feeling awful because you feel guilty for biting me?”
Who was that?
Nan Chu froze for two seconds, then snapped her eyes open.
Against the backlight, the man’s cold, handsome facial contours were carved into sharp, distinct relief by light and shadow—dignified, aloof, and distant.
How could it be him?
He stood by the bed, gazing down at her. His right hand was slightly raised to his cheek, and on his fair, beautiful hand, a crescent-shaped bite mark was faintly visible.
Nan Chu was so startled she tumbled off the bed, eyes wide, too shocked to form a complete sentence.
“You…”
A headache struck, like a switch opening the door to her memory. Everything from last night rushed into her mind in a frenzy.
After buying alcohol and coming home, she drank every last drop. In a daze, she heard someone ring the doorbell.
She went to answer it in a haze, and what happened after that—she couldn’t recall a single bit of it.
But judging by the injuries on Shang Lin’s body, Nan Chu knew it couldn’t have been anything good.
The more Nan Chu thought about it, the guiltier she felt. Even her heartbreak was forgotten as she hurriedly bowed and apologized.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Mr. Shang, I’m so sorry.”
Shang Lin, standing by the bed, raised an eyebrow, his voice faint.
“You know me?”
Nan Chu lowered her eyes, fingers clutching the blanket, her gaze sweeping over her clothes.
Thankfully, she was still wearing last night’s clothes.
She let out a breath: “I’ve seen you in a finance magazine.”
Nan Chu breathed a sigh of relief, her gaze landing on the injury on Shang Lin’s hand.
“Mr. Shang, last night…”
Nan Chu wanted to ask what she had done last night, but the words stuck in her throat and wouldn’t come out. She could only steal furtive glances at him.
Suddenly, Nan Chu caught sight of a scratch mark on Shang Lin’s neck.
She was stunned.
Not just his hand—his neck too?
The man’s skin was cool and pale, and the scratch marks on his neck were like flaws marring a masterpiece—a terrible waste.
Nan Chu lowered her brows.
The mistake was hers. She would take full responsibility.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Shang. For offending you last night, I will definitely take responsibility.”
Nan Chu raised her eyes, staring at Shang Lin with a very serious gaze.
“If there’s anything I can do, Mr. Shang, just name it.”
“As long as I want it, you can provide it?”
Nan Chu nodded. “Yes, I’ll definitely cover the medical expenses.”
Shang Lin looked at the woman before him, her features clear and striking, his expression unruffled.
“Medical expenses?”
Nan Chu thought for a moment, then added, “I’ll also cover nutritional costs. And anything else that’s caused you trouble—just say the word.”
Shang Lin’s gaze deepened, his voice calm and indifferent.
“Miss Nan thinks I’m short on money?”
Nan Chu was at a loss for words.
Anyone might be short on money—but not Shang Lin.
Back in school, Shang Lin had been a legend. He founded Rongchuang Technology in his freshman year and donated an entire building to the university in his sophomore year.
By the time she was still working odd jobs in her senior year, he was already a leading young entrepreneur featured on financial magazine covers.
Two years after graduation, she still saw him in the news constantly.
Both being graduates of Jing University, she was almost too embarrassed to admit they were alumni.
How could someone like him possibly need her paltry medical expenses?
Nan Chu’s heart was uneasy as she asked hesitantly.
“Then what do you lack, Mr. Shang? Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”
Shang Lin didn’t speak right away, merely gazing at her calmly.
The longer his silence stretched, the more nervous Nan Chu became—like being cut with a dull knife, agonizingly slow.
Just as her heart was about to leap out of her throat, she heard the man above her speak casually.
“I lack a wife.”