It had been a long time since she'd been back in the country, and the car Cheng Zimiao drove was still the one he'd bought before they got married.
Shi Ran glanced up and saw the plush toys hanging from the front of the car—ones they'd picked out together long ago. One on each side, a cream-colored British Shorthair and an orange Shiba Inu. They were the first-generation "Sheng Wan Wu" blind box figures, from before the brand had blown up.
Back then, "Sheng Wan Wu" was still a niche designer brand with just a small stall at the creative market in the city center. Shi Ran had dragged Cheng Zimiao to queue for two hours just to grab one blind box, and they'd hit the jackpot on the first try—pulling the hidden edition.
She'd been ecstatic, while Cheng Zimiao had looked utterly unimpressed, saying a cheap plush toy wasn't worth queuing that long. She'd ignored him, told him he had no taste, and hung it on the car herself.
To this day, no one had taken it down.
No one had expected "Sheng Wan Wu" to blow up overnight, expanding from designer toys into jewelry, clothing, and home goods, becoming a phenomenal national brand within just a few years.
The first-generation unopened basic editions were being scalped for over three thousand yuan each, and complete sets were practically priceless. Last year, Chen Anke had wanted to buy one as a birthday gift for her, searching half the circle without finding one in good condition.
The windshield wipers swept back and forth across the glass, making a monotonous, drowsy sound. Cheng Zimiao said lazily, "You're pretty polite with your new boyfriend."
"Am I?" Shi Ran replied with equal nonchalance. "Maybe I'm just being polite in front of you."
"Ha." Cheng Zimiao let out a cold laugh. "The divorce papers are already signed. Why bother putting on an act in front of me? It's only been a few months and you've already moved on to a new relationship—and with a former high school classmate, no less. I really can't tell whether Miss Shi likes new things or misses old ones."
Shi Ran wanted to say that he hadn't exactly been idle these past few months either, and that he wasn't one to talk about new or old—he'd barely been back in the country before he'd found Lin Yujia… But she was never one to lower herself like that. Saying those things would mean she cared, and Shi Ran didn't like caring.
She'd thought about it before—whether Cheng Zimiao saying these things meant he cared about her. But later she'd decided it wasn't necessarily true, because Cheng Zimiao was naturally sharp-tongued. Maybe he only cared about his own pride.
So she said, "Whatever. We're already divorced."
The knuckles on Cheng Zimiao's hand gripping the steering wheel went white.
Neither of them spoke again.
The car slowly pulled into the villa district.
The rain had stopped, and the road was wet. Shi Ran and Cheng Zimiao walked into the house one after the other.
The living room was brightly lit. Their parents sat on the sofa chatting, with a tea set, fruit, and several spread-out documents on the coffee table.
"Back?" Cheng Zimiao's mother, Zhang Guoying, was the first to look up, smiling and waving them over. "Come sit, we've been waiting for you two."
She pulled Shi Ran over beside her, squeezed her forearm, and sighed. "Ranran, you feel thinner somehow." Then she shot Cheng Zimiao a glare. "You're not taking good care of her."
Shi Ran opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, Cheng Zimiao cut in with perfect naturalness: "What about me? Haven't I lost weight?"
"Who cares whether you've lost weight." Zhang Guoying ignored him, gathered up the documents on the table, and said, "Alright, let's eat!"
Zhang Guoying was the kind of woman Shi Ran really liked. The kind of mature woman Shi Ran had fantasized about becoming when she was a little girl.
The kind of woman who made young girls think that aging wasn't so scary after all—that it might even be something to look forward to.
She and Shi Ran's mother, Meng Dai, had been childhood friends, best friends, both from wealthy, established families.
Back then, Meng Dai played the piano and she studied painting. But Meng Dai went on to make a name for herself, winning awards at international competitions and becoming a celebrated pianist. Zhang Guoying, meanwhile, quickly gave up her artistic pursuits, married Cheng Zimiao's father of her own accord, and threw herself into the business empire, founding a high-end domestic new energy vehicle brand.
Perhaps because of her artistic training in her youth, Zhang Guoying had an almost obsessive pursuit of automotive design aesthetics—it was the soul of their brand.
But no matter how stunning the design, it required the finest materials to achieve lightweight construction and high strength. Shi Ran's father's company was an irreplaceable supplier to many top manufacturers, holding core patents and proprietary processes for raw materials—and thus holding their lifeline in its hands.
That the two children had ended up together was something both families were delighted about.
And to announce on this warm, harmonious dinner table that they were now divorced would require the courage to face all the consequences.
Dish after exquisite dish was set on the table—clear broth beef brisket, truffle risotto, crab roe tofu… Finally, a small clay pot was placed in front of Shi Ran. Zhang Guoying lifted the lid, releasing a hot, fragrant steam—it was the shrimp and crab congee Shi Ran had loved since childhood.
"Ranran's favorite from when she was little. Right?" Zhang Guoying said with a beaming smile. "That little stall from back then is a private kitchen now. Auntie said she queued for three hours to get it—not sure if the taste has changed. Come on, try it while it's hot."
Shi Ran froze.
She'd already tried it… in Shen Lizhou's car.
It tasted just like it always had.
Did it really take that long to queue for?
How had he gotten it so fast?
"Thank you, Mom." Shi Ran replied instinctively, without correcting herself. Cheng Zimiao shot her a quick glance, then casually looked away and started chatting with Shi's father.
"Take a look at this." Shi Liangcai slid the tablet in front of Cheng Zimiao. "The dynamic test report for the new material—the conclusion is positive, but the predictive model still has some deviation. Your structural team can run it through as well."
"Sure, Dad." Cheng Zimiao took the tablet, his fingertip gliding across the screen as he focused intently on the dense tables and data. After a moment, he said, "It might be that the test fixture underwent slight deformation after prolonged loading… this data inflection point is a jump. If it were material failure, the curve should decline smoothly."
"Mm." A faint trace of approval flickered in Shi Liangcai's eyes. "Have the structural team produce a stiffness analysis report on the fixture. I'll run another round of tests on my end, and we'll cross-check the results."
"Got it." Cheng Zimiao answered crisply. "I'll have them sync the test standards to your lab first thing tomorrow morning. Also, I've prepared three proposals for the material ratio in the new model—I'll bring them by next Monday for you to review."
"You can handle those as you see fit." Shi Liangcai said. "I heard pre-orders have already surpassed thirty thousand?"
Cheng Zimiao smiled. "We should break fifty thousand by this week."
Shi Liangcai patted his shoulder, then said to Zhang Guoying, "Your Zimiao really is developing an increasingly commanding presence."
Zhang Guoying curved his lips slightly. "It's mainly thanks to the strong material foundation on the in-laws' side—that's what allows our designs to come to life. Zimiao is just lucky to have such wonderful in-laws who are willing to teach him everything."
"Not at all, not at all," Shi Liangcai waved his hand with a smile. "It's Zimiao's own hard work. Our generation will eventually step aside—the future belongs to the young people."
Meng Dai took a sip of tea and said gently, "But don't push yourself too hard, Zimiao. Health is the foundation of everything."
"Thank you, Mom." Cheng Zimiao smiled, finally lifting his gaze from the tablet and picking up his chopsticks.
Discussing work over meals was a habit in both families.
As far back as Shi Ran could remember, the dinner table at home was rarely truly quiet. Either Shi Liangcai was taking a phone call, or Zhang Guoying was going over a project's progress with Cheng's father. Sometimes, mid-conversation, chopsticks would be set down—someone would head to the study to fetch documents, someone else would pull out their phone to check emails, and the soup in their bowls would go cold, get reheated, then go cold again.
No one thought anything was wrong with this.
In their view, eating was just a formality; discussing business was the real matter. A meal that could secure a contract worth tens of millions was worth more than any delicacy.
As a child, Shi Ran didn't understand any of this.
She only remembered that whenever the adults started talking about work, she and Cheng Zimiao would be sent off to play on their own. Sometimes they'd build LEGO in the living room, sometimes they'd chase the cat or tease the dog in the garden, but more often than not, the two of them would hole up in the music room and play whatever came to mind. She'd play Chopin, he'd play Liszt, and when they got tired, they'd switch to four-hand renditions of all sorts of messy tunes. Whenever they hit a wrong note, they'd blame each other, roughhouse a little, then collapse together on the piano bench, laughing.
But later, for reasons she never quite understood, Cheng Zimiao stopped playing the piano.
First, his practice time dwindled. Then, he stopped going to the music room altogether. Once, Shi Ran went to his house to find him and asked why he'd quit. He just leaned against the doorframe and said in that familiar, casual tone of his: "Playing piano is boring. I want to learn how to do business."
At the time, Shi Ran was already somewhat well-known in the piano world. She guessed it was because she played far better than him, which had bruised his pride, so she reached out and patted his shoulder. "Alright. Everyone has different talents—maybe you'll be great at business."
Cheng Zimiao's face immediately soured. "I'm great at everything."
His piano playing wasn't bad either.
It was just that Shi Ran truly possessed a once-in-years kind of talent—there was no competing with that.
As it turned out, Cheng Zimiao did end up doing very well in business.
Vibrant and thriving, his domestic market share grew stronger year after year, and he'd even carved a foothold in overseas markets. Both sets of parents were gradually handing him more authority.
He'd sit at the head of the conference table in sharply tailored suits, negotiating with suppliers, reporting to shareholders, and discussing technical details with overseas partners in fluent English.
His schedule was precise to the minute, his phone never stopped ringing, and his name began appearing on guest lists at industry summits.
He was unbreakable, undefeated.
He possessed a vast, boundless world and a brilliant, colorful future.
And whether she was part of that blueprint or not didn't really matter—that's what Shi Ran thought.
As the meal drew to a close, she set down her chopsticks.
"Dad, Mom," Shi Ran's voice was soft but clear. "I'd like to share something with everyone."
Her tone was too solemn, and the dining room quickly fell silent.
All eyes turned to her. Zhang Guoying looked at Shi Ran's tense profile, and for no discernible reason, her heart began to rise into her throat—a vague sense of foreboding.
Shi Ran took a deep breath.
The words "We're divorced" were right on the tip of her tongue, but Cheng Zimiao spoke first.
"We want to settle down domestically," he said, his tone steady and assured. "Right now, tariffs, logistics, supply chains… every link is rising. The domestic market is huge now, and the policies are favorable. Returning to China to develop is an inevitable trend, but…" He looked somewhat guilty. "It's just that Mom just had heart stent surgery this year, and her lead physician's team is all abroad…"
…Heart stent surgery?
Who had heart stent surgery?
Shi Ran looked on blankly, then heard Meng Dai's voice: "That's nothing. Your father and I are constantly traveling between countries; it's not like we're permanently settled there."
"Yes," Shi Liangcai laughed. "Transportation is so developed now, meeting up is easy. We're not so old that we can't move around—no need to worry about us."
Everyone chatted warmly, brushing the matter aside as if it were nothing—as if getting a stent was the most ordinary thing in the world, something the whole family knew about.
Only she didn't know.
Only she didn't know!
Shi Ran abruptly stood up and walked out.
Cheng Zimiao rose and followed.
Her steps were urgent and rushed; he followed unhurriedly behind her, maintaining a distance of about a meter.
When she reached a secluded spot in the garden, she stopped and turned to face him.
The cold, pale moonlight fell on his face, casting his handsome brows and eyes in sharp, calm relief.
"Cheng Zimiao." She tried to keep her voice steady. "Why didn't I know my mom got a heart stent?"
"You were abroad on an exchange program at the time. I said you were traveling for fun. She asked me not to tell you."
"She asked you not to tell me, so you just didn't? You know full well I hate being lied to!"
"Then what did you want me to do?" Cheng Zimiao stood there at ease, his tone flat. "You didn't want me to tell them you became a veterinarian—I didn't tell them either, did I?"
Her voice trembled slightly. "Is that the same thing?"
"…Enough. What could you have done even if you'd known?" Cheng Zimiao averted his gaze and said quietly, "We were also afraid you'd blame yourself."
How could she not blame herself?
Shi Ran had never known her mother had a heart condition her entire life.
Back then, young and headstrong, she'd decided to quit piano, and after repeated attempts at communication failed, she'd chosen an extremely drastic path.
She won the championship at the international music competition her mother had most looked forward to, playing a nearly flawless piece, then—during the live broadcast—faced every camera and smiled, saying words that shocked the entire media audience.
She said she was accepting this award today only to say goodbye to it.
She said from today onward, she would never perform another piece as a professional pianist.
After the interview, she heard her mother had suffered a heart attack and been taken away by ambulance, and her father's roar echoed through the entire hospital. The family had exhausted every effort to suppress the interview. That rebellious period left Meng Dai with a chronic condition and became the darkest memory of Shi Ran's life.
Even thinking about it now made her heart race, filled her with lingering fear, terrified that her momentary willfulness had led to an irreversible outcome.
"Mom's health is much better now, but there's no need to tell them about the divorce either." Cheng Zimiao lowered his gaze to their shadows—two figures overlapping among the flowers, looking very intimate.
His tone was flat, as if discussing inconsequential weather: "…Isn't it more convenient to keep things as they are?"
After all, he'd never even signed for the mediation notice the court had sent.
That morning, Lin Yujia had called to ask about it, and he'd said he would be in the country handling business for the foreseeable future and had no time.
The other party said the court would proceed with service by public announcement, and after 60 days the mediation period would be deemed concluded and the divorce judgment would take effect… He'd hummed an "okay" and said whatever, then hung up.
Sixty days was a long time, after all.
Long enough for them, like every previous fight, to first turn and walk away from each other, then slowly draw close again, and embrace.
Cheng Zimiao slowly raised his eyes to look at the familiar yet unfamiliar lover before him.
Shi Ran hesitated.
Could she?
If they kept things as they were… wouldn't it hold Cheng Zimiao back from finding someone new?
Her prolonged silence, that hesitation, was seen by Cheng Zimiao and interpreted as something else. He let out a cold scoff. "What, afraid your fake boyfriend will get jealous?"
Fake boyfriend?
The night wind swept in, leaves rustling. Before Shi Ran could parse his words, she heard Cheng Zimiao's harsh tone: "And you even brought Lewei into it? Shen Lewei is dead—he had a mental illness. You didn't even know that?"