Fang Yuming trudged home with heavy steps, his face ashen.
He set his briefcase on a chair and, after a struggle, forced the words out to his parents: “Dad, Mom… Minzhi’s mother, Yunshu, came all the way from Guangzhou today.”
He repeated almost verbatim how his mother-in-law had found him at his workplace and the sharp accusations she’d thrown at the doorway—words like “marriage fraud,” “report to the leadership,” “go to Jiaotong.” The more he spoke, the quieter his voice grew; he bowed his head as he spoke.
Fang’s mother listened in stunned silence, then her face hardened with disapproval. She set down her chopsticks and scolded, “Better to tear down ten temples than to break up one marriage! How could your mother-in-law go…and persuade her own daughter to divorce? What kind of conduct is that?”
Turning to Fang’s father, she urged anxiously, “Shouldn’t the two of us go over and talk to her? Try to persuade her? Surely we can’t let this break up the family just like that?”
Fang’s father had been listening quietly, brows knitted. Now he slowly shook his head, sighed, and spoke with a clarity and gravity that outstripped his wife’s panic:
“If she’d come to Yuming’s workplace and said such things, she’s dead set on supporting the divorce. She’s leaving no room for maneuver. If we go now, what will we say? Apologize? Beg? It’ll only humiliate us—most likely we’ll get turned away.”
He glanced at their disconsolate son and made a decision: “Then let them divorce. We can’t let this drag on until everyone at Yuming’s office knows and he can never hold his head up in front of leaders and colleagues. His career matters.”
Fang Yuming snapped his head up, a flicker of hope and unwillingness in his eyes. “Dad… isn’t there any other way? Must it come to this?”
“If we divorce now, we’ll at least spare each other some face.” Fang’s father said. “The paper’s already torn—your mother-in-law poked a hole in it. If this blows up, the consequences for you will be far worse. But…”
He paused, then turned to his wife with instructions. “We do need to visit them. Prepare a proper gift. Tomorrow we’ll go over.”
Fang’s mother was taken aback. “We’re divorcing—why go and make a visit?”
“Think long term,” Fang’s father replied in a low voice, weighing the stakes. “Even if Yuming and Minzhi divorce, it would be best to keep a friendly relationship between the families.”
“Don’t forget—when Yuqing’s little uncle had trouble getting a military quota back then, it was Minzhi’s father who pulled strings. Minzhi’s father just got promoted; her family’s connections—her uncle was also transferred back to Beijing two years ago, and her elder brother entered a ministry job after graduation. Their future is promising.”
He looked at his son, the meaning clear:
“We can’t let this young couple’s divorce sever our ties with the Su family completely. And there’s Niannian—she’s blood of both families. That bond can’t be cut.”
Fang Yuming nodded silently, a tangle of emotions inside. Su Minzhi not only hailed from a strong family background but was also remarkably capable—deep down he truly did not want the divorce.
No one noticed the small figure pressed against the slightly ajar door, listening intently—Liu Xiaolei. He heard every word clearly, especially, “Then let them divorce.” In the dark, a cold gleam—far older than his years—flickered in his eyes.
He thought silently: finally, they’ll divorce.
The next morning, when Fang Yuming arrived at the civil affairs bureau, Su Minzhi was already there.
She wore a plain long dress and carried a cloth bag. When she turned at his footsteps, her gaze was calm and still, as if looking at a stranger.
“Minzhi…” Fang Yuming’s throat was dry. He stepped forward and tried to speak, as if to say one last thing.
Su Minzhi glanced at him without emotion and said simply, “Go finish the formalities first.”
All the words he wanted to say were swallowed back; he could only nod.
The room where they handled the divorce papers was plain and solemn.
They sat across from each other at an old wooden table and, in silence, picked up pens to fill out forms. The scratch of pen on paper was the only sound.
A kindly middle-aged clerk took their forms, adjusted her glasses, and—following procedure—asked the routine questions, eyes shifting between them.
“Are both parties voluntarily applying for divorce?”
They almost answered in unison with nods, not looking at each other.
“What is the reason for the divorce?” the clerk continued.
Fang Yuming glanced at Su Minzhi. She raised her eyes and spoke in a voice so flat it sounded like reading an unrelated sentence: “Incompatible personalities; breakdown of feelings.”
The clerk nodded—accustomed to such stock replies.
She skimmed the divorce agreement they’d submitted; the crucial issue centered on the child.
“Have you agreed on custody?” she asked. “The agreement states the mother will have custody; the father will pay monthly child support and retain visitation rights. Is that correct?”
“Yes. We’ve agreed.”
The clerk leaned forward slightly, making one final, required mediation attempt, earnest in tone: “Divorce is a major matter. It affects two families and, above all, the child. Are you sure? It’s not too late to reconsider.”
“We’ve considered it.” Su Minzhi’s answer was quick and decisive.
“…We have.” came the muted echo.
The paperwork proceeded surprisingly quickly. Soon they each held a sheet of paper.
This was a divorce certificate of the era—an opened certificate about the size of an award, with basic personal information, a brief stated reason (emotional breakdown), and today’s date either handwritten or typed.
At the bottom was the red seal of the district civil affairs bureau. No photo, no lamination—just a light sheet of paper that nevertheless bore the heavy weight of a marriage’s formal end.
Outside the civil affairs bureau, people passed by. Sunlight slanted down and bleached the bluestone steps.
Fang Yuming hurried a few steps to catch up with Su Minzhi, voice urgent and flustered.
“Minzhi… wait.” He stood before her, looking earnestly into her calm eyes. “Believe me—my feelings for you have been real all these years! From the beginning until now, I truly liked you… I…”
His words choked and failed. He seemed to be grasping at something fragile with pale words.
Su Minzhi stopped and, with her eyes lowered slightly, carefully folded the divorce certificate and put it into her bag. She didn’t look at him again. Turning, she left the civil affairs bureau first.
Fang Yuming clutched his own paper, standing motionless as the cool texture of it registered in his hands.
He watched that once-familiar figure—the woman he had thought would be at his side for life—leave so decisively, without a trace of hesitation, vanish into the light at the bureau’s doorway. Only then did he finally grasp, with a stunned clarity, that between him and Su Minzhi it was now irrevocably over.