Just as Liang Yan was lost in thought, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. The caller ID was nothing but a string of unfamiliar numbers.
Jiang Mu leaned over. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” Liang Yan hesitated for a moment, then picked up. “Hello?”
On the other end came a distinctly male voice. “It’s me.”
“…And you are?” Liang Yan asked cautiously.
Silence. Then, after a short pause, the voice finally said, “Lu Lincheng.”
“!!!”
Startled, Liang Yan almost dropped her phone. It slipped through her fingers, spun in midair a few times, and she barely managed to catch it.
Through the receiver came Lu Lincheng’s voice, rough and slightly hoarse, the sound of someone who’d stayed up all night. “Liang Yan, let’s meet and talk.”
She had braced herself for him to start scolding her—accusing her of using his name for hype, or at the very least stabbing her with a few sharp words to vent his frustration. But instead, his tone was unexpectedly calm. It was as if the one dragged into the public storm by her impulsive actions wasn’t him at all.
Liang Yan hadn’t expected unfollowing him to explode into such a mess. This time, the blame lay squarely on her. Guilt gnawed at her, and her reply came out small and subdued. “Okay.”
Lu Lincheng continued, “You should be free the day after tomorrow. I’ll be home then.”
“…Home?” For a moment, Liang Yan didn’t understand. Then it clicked—by “home,” he meant that 200-square-meter apartment in Nanjing District. The place Jiang Mu once told her was “their shared house.”
“Mm.” Lu Lincheng’s voice was light, almost indifferent. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up now.”
When the line disconnected, Liang Yan stared at the screen. The call log showed a duration of one minute and thirty seconds. Proof it hadn’t been a dream.
Seeing her expression, Jiang Mu didn’t even need to ask. She knew the caller had to be Lu Lincheng. She leaned closer. “So? What did he say? Did he yell at you?”
Liang Yan shook her head. “No. He just said he wants to talk in person.”
“In person?” Jiang Mu frowned. “Did he say what about?”
“Not really.” Liang Yan shook her head again, though in her heart she already had a guess.
He wasn’t angry about the unfollow. He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t even sounded ruffled. And now, he wanted to meet face-to-face.
There was only one explanation Liang Yan could think of—
Lu Lincheng wanted to discuss the divorce.
After that call, Jiang Mu noticed Liang Yan go unusually quiet. She sat there holding her phone, still as a lost little cub separated from its pack.
Liang Yan sniffled softly.
So it really was coming to this. Divorce, after all.
It felt just like when she was a child. Her parents, who fought every single day, suddenly stopped fighting one afternoon. Not only that—they even took her out to a restaurant for a meal.
Liang Yan remembered it vividly: her left hand holding her father’s, her right hand clinging to her mother’s, skipping along with so much joy that her cheeks flushed red. They led her, hand in hand, all the way to the gates of the local closed-off sports school.
Biting her fingers nervously, she watched as her parents personally handed her over to the dorm manager. Her mother crouched down, smoothing her collar. “Your father and I are divorced now. We can’t take care of you anymore. From now on, you’ll live at the school. We’ll come visit when we have time, okay?”
Liang Yan wasn’t the kind of spoiled child who’d grown up pampered enough to throw tantrums. She understood even then that those soft, gentle words were the last bit of kindness they had left to give her. Eyes red, she nodded obediently, “Okay.”
Then she watched as the man and woman, once her whole world, turned away from each other at the school gate—strangers now, walking off in opposite directions.
Clenching her little fists, Liang Yan did the boldest thing she’d ever done. She broke into sobs, running after them, screaming their names with every ounce of her tiny lungs. But even if they heard her cries, they never turned back.
The old iron gates of the school clanged shut behind her, merciless and final.
At first, she waited. Every day, she trained until she was exhausted, just so that when her parents came, she could proudly show them her results. They had promised—they said they’d come when they had time. But she waited, and waited, until the years blurred together. They never came. Not once.
From then on, Liang Yan became terrified of being abandoned. As a child, she would jolt awake from nightmares, always seeing that cold, iron gate separating her from the warmth of her family.
Now she lowered her head.
Maybe that was why, deep down, she had never once thought of asking Lu Lincheng for a divorce. Not even after her amnesia.
Marriage was a big deal. She didn’t want to be like her parents—choosing to be together, only to turn their backs so coldly in the end.
At the very least, she didn’t want to be the one to say the words first.
And now, with Lu Lincheng about to bring it up, her chest tightened with that same suffocating feeling she had as a little girl, locked behind those gates.
Jiang Mu carefully inched closer. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Liang Yan lifted her head again.
The child she once was had been terrified of being left behind. But the grown-up Liang Yan—she was no longer afraid.
Two days later, in the Nanjing District apartment.
No one had lived there for a long time, but the cleaning lady still came regularly. Not a speck of dust clung to the furniture.
Lu Lincheng sat on the sofa, dressed in a gray loungewear set, slippers on his feet. The man who usually looked so polished and untouchable on camera had stripped away that image here, radiating a lazy, almost dangerous kind of sensuality.
Across from him, Liang Yan sat with her face carefully made up, lips painted a vivid red, lashes long and perfectly separated. Her softly curled hair had been styled with care. She wore a fitted black trench coat over a turtleneck, her most expensive handbag resting neatly on her lap. Back straight, posture rigid, she looked less like she was at home and more like she was attending a formal meeting.
She glanced at the man in front of her, dressed so casually, and pressed her lips into a tight line.
She had woken at five that morning to fix her hair and do her makeup. If she was going to be abandoned today, then at least she would be abandoned with dignity. Yet here he was, lounging in loungewear as if the whole thing meant nothing. Showing up like this to talk about divorce—it was a slap in the face, a blatant disrespect for their marriage.
Lu Lincheng took a sip from the glass on the coffee table, then looked at her. He clearly hadn’t expected her to dress up so formally.
When he returned home earlier, he’d noticed the walk-in closet was half-empty. Her clothes were all gone.
“You moved out?”
“Mm.” Liang Yan nodded.
Lu Lincheng gave a slight nod in return. He crossed one leg over the other, pressed the tips of his fingers together, his gaze fixed on the floor. It looked like he was working up to something.
Liang Yan thought Lu Lincheng simply hadn’t figured out how to bring up the divorce yet. Rather than sit there waiting to be discarded, she decided it was better to end things herself. Taking a steadying breath, she said:
“I’ve already moved most of my things out of this place.
What happened last time was my fault. I didn’t expect the fans to notice so quickly, let alone that it would hit the hot search. I’m sorry. I swear I never meant to hype myself or ride on your popularity. I still have some pride, even if I can’t quite figure out how I ended up married to you in the first place.
Don’t worry—I won’t touch a cent that doesn’t belong to me. As for joint assets after marriage, forget it. I might be short on money, but I’m not desperate enough to stoop that low. What you earn is yours, it has nothing to do with me.
I know you hate me. I don’t even care about the ‘invalid number’ thing anymore. If you want a divorce, we’ll divorce. I won’t cling to you. From now on, like your fans say, we can go our separate ways and never cross paths again.”
She forced it all out in one breath. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she tried her best to look unaffected. She refused to meet his gaze, staring straight ahead instead, chin slightly raised, pale neck exposed in quiet defiance.
It was fine. If she was the one to say it first, then it wouldn’t feel like being abandoned all over again.
Liang Yan worked hard to appear calm, though a faint tremor betrayed her.
Lu Lincheng, listening, looked taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to be so decisive. He’d spent a long time rehearsing what to say, trying to phrase everything as gently as possible because he knew she would be hurt. Yet she had said it all herself—without breaking down, without complaint, even wearing a polite smile.
Lowering his gaze, he still murmured, “Liang Yan, I’m sorry.”
Liang Yan drew in a deep breath, forcing a smile as she reached into her handbag. She pulled out a pen, snapping the cap off with a sharp click.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Two years of marriage to you—hardly a loss for me. As long as you don’t make me pay you alimony, everything else is fine.
So… where’s the divorce agreement? I’ll sign it right now.”
Half an hour later, the Weibo accounts of Lu Lincheng and Liang Yan posted simultaneously.
No captions. No explanations.
Just a single image—
Divorce Agreement.
**