Su Qingyu glanced down at the piece of paper, where the address of a cemetery was starkly written. Could his sister already be dead? But what could her death possibly have to do with her father? From what Su Qingyu knew of Su Qiping, he would never harm a young girl. Knowing the two men wouldn't reveal anything more, Su Qingyu didn't press them. The rest of the drive to the Li residence was silent. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over her as she arrived at the familiar place once more. Chen Ling asked politely, "Would you like to get out, ma'am?" "No, that's alright. I'll just wait for him here." The only thing left between her and Li Tingchen was the divorce, and she didn't want any more complications. Besides, every plant, every tree here was laden with memories they had shared. She couldn't bear to stir those feelings. If there was anyone to blame, it was the man who had once treated her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, something to be cherished and protected from the slightest harm. Even now, though his coldness cut deeper each time they met, she couldn't help but remember the good. He was the one person she should despise, yet she could never truly bring herself to hate him. The engine hummed, steadily pumping heat into the car where she sat alone. A familiar ache flared in Su Qingyu’s stomach. She curled into a tight ball, hugging her knees to her chest like a shrimp, and waited on the seat for morning to break. In winter, the nights were long and the dawn came late. At just past seven, the day had yet to fully brighten, the sky shrouded in a grey mist. The leaves of the ginkgo tree in the yard had long since fallen, and her thoughts drifted back to the past. During the season of golden fruit, she’d once craved ginkgo and lotus seed black chicken soup. To satisfy her, he had climbed the ginkgo tree in the yard—a tree over thirty feet tall—just to shake its fruit down for her. Leaves of green and gold had rustled down around her, a shower of pure gold just for her. The Li Tingchen of back then was warm and approachable. He was a wonderful cook who spoiled her endlessly. Lost in thought, she found she had wandered out of the car and was standing beneath that very tree. The ginkgo was still there, but the people were not the same. Its branches were bare, save for a few withered leaves clinging on, as fragile and precarious as her relationship with Li Tingchen now was. This was the scene that greeted Li Tingchen as he stepped out of the villa. A girl in a thin knit sweater stood under the tree, her head tilted upward as the cold wind whipped through her hair. The weather had finally cleared after days of gloom, and the first rays of morning sun fell upon her face. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, giving her an ethereal quality, as if she might vanish at any moment. Her hand was still wrapped in gauze, and strangely, she was wearing the same clothes from the night before, her face drawn and weary. "Li Tingchen." She spoke without turning, somehow knowing he was there. "Yes." Su Qingyu slowly turned, her gaze falling upon the tall man. They were standing so close, yet an impassable gulf lay between them. When had they become so distant? "I want to have your ginkgo and lotus seed black chicken soup, one last time." A flicker of surprise crossed Li Tingchen's dark eyes, but it vanished in an instant, replaced by his usual coldness. "Ginkgo season is over, Su Qingyu. Don't waste time." Her eyes reddened slightly. "Can't you grant me one last request before the divorce?" she murmured. He hadn't seen her in three months. She seemed to have changed. He turned his face away, looking at the bare tree, his tone a little less frigid. "Last year's frozen ones aren't fresh. If you want some, you can wait until next year's harvest." *Next year...* Su Qingyu ran her fingers over the rough bark. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to wait that long. "Li Tingchen, do you hate me that much?" "I do." She turned to him and said softly, "Then... would it make you happy if I died?" Her words struck him like a clap of thunder. A roaring filled Li Tingchen’s head, a deafening noise that momentarily stole his reason. After a moment, he regained his composure, his voice cool and distant. "It's just a pot of soup. Come inside." Su Qingyu watched his retreating back, a faint smile playing on her lips. *So you are afraid I'll die, Li Tingchen?* An idea, a seed of revenge, began to sprout in her mind. She suddenly wondered what his expression would be if he heard the news of her death one day. Would he be happy? Or sad? There were ginkgo nuts from a previous harvest in the freezer. He efficiently took out the ingredients to thaw. Watching him bustle about the kitchen, Su Qingyu felt an endless sorrow well up inside her. This would likely be the last meal he ever cooked for her. So be it. At least it would be a final memory to hold on to. Su Qingyu roasted sweet potatoes by the fireplace, their sweet aroma filling the air. In winters past, whenever she knelt here to roast them, Old Mrs. Li would be drawn by the scent. The old woman had been so kind to her, treating her like her own granddaughter. But she had passed away two years ago. Not wanting to be consumed by grief, the old master had moved abroad. The once-warm mansion was now cold and empty. The sweet potatoes were still fragrant and sweet, but without the old woman there to snatch one from her, she had lost all interest. After eating a sweet potato and drinking a glass of warm water, the pain in her stomach subsided a little. As the aroma from the kitchen wafted over, Su Qingyu got up and went to see, only to find Li Tingchen ladling the soup into a thermos, then pouring a portion from it into a bowl. Once, she had been his everything, the apple of his eye. Now she was no longer the only one. All this time, she had blinded herself with memories of the past, unwilling to accept the truth. "The soup is ready," Li Tingchen said, not noticing her crestfallen expression. "Thank you." She looked down at the fragrant steam rising from the bowl. It looked and smelled as perfect as ever, but she had no appetite at all. "It's getting late. Let's go to the Civil Affairs Bureau." A flicker of anger crossed Li Tingchen's handsome face. "You're not drinking it?" "I don't want to." She used to be willful like this, and he would always patiently coax her. Now, he just gave her a long, hard look, then poured the entire bowl of soup down the sink. He walked past her without a word. "Let's go." Li Tingchen handed the thermos to Chen Ling. "Take this to Luhai Residence." "Yes, Mr. Li." It was only in that moment that Su Qingyu knew, truly knew, that there was no going back for them. Her entire year of holding on had been a complete joke. She strode toward the car. As she passed the ginkgo tree, a cold gust of wind blew, and the last stubborn leaf that had refused to let go finally drifted silently to the ground. Su Qingyu held out her hand, catching the lifeless leaf. "What's the point of holding on?" she whispered. She let it fall from her hand and ground it under her heel, the fragile leaf crumbling into dust. The car door shut. Even with the heat on, the two of them, sitting on opposite sides, felt like the world was ending. A chilling cold radiated from them both. The drive to the Civil Affairs Bureau was smooth. There was no traffic, and every light was green. It was as if fate itself was clearing the way, giving them a green light for their divorce. The building was just around the next corner when Li Tingchen's phone rang. Bai Yuanyuan's anxious voice came through the speaker. "Tingchen, Qingchen has a high fever and it won't go down. I didn't want to bother you, but it just hit 39 degrees. I'm so scared, please, can you come quickly..." "I'm on my way." When Li Tingchen hung up, he was met by Su Qingyu's eyes—red-rimmed but filled with a burning hatred. She spoke, enunciating each word. "What is that child's name?"