After saying her goodbyes to Lu Qi and Li Chuan, Rong Shu returned to her father's old house. A thick layer of dust coated everything, a testament to how long the place had been neglected. Tying on an apron, Rong Shu set about cleaning. From beneath the sofa, she unearthed her wedding photo with Fu Jingtian. In it, she was radiant, her smile as bright as a flower, while Fu Jingtian stood beside her, his expression a mask of cold indifference, his brow etched with impatience. Beside the photo lay a journal she had kept, its pages filled with meticulous notes on his favorite foods, the brands he preferred, a comprehensive catalog of his every interest. She had poured her entire being into him, desperately trying to nurture a marriage she had fought so hard for, only for reality to deliver a resounding slap in the face. A bitter sting pricked at her eyes. Rong Shu tilted her head back, forcing the unshed tears down her throat. The chime of an incoming text message shattered the quiet. She glanced at her phone; it was from Li Chuan. “You helped me six years ago. Now it’s my turn to help you. Do what you have to do. I’ve got your back.” A wave of warmth washed over Rong Shu. And while she knew Li Chuan’s offer to repay her was sincere, she was determined not to rely on anyone. In her marriage to Fu Jingtian, she had painstakingly molded herself into the perfect wife, burying her fiery spirit so deep she’d almost forgotten the bold, carefree woman she once was. Taking a breath, she picked up the phone and dialed his number. “Rong Shu, what is it now?” Fu Jingtian’s voice came through the line, cold and detached. Her own voice was just as devoid of warmth, as if she were speaking to a stranger. “Tomorrow’s Monday. Don’t forget we have an appointment at City Hall to finalize the divorce.” Fu Jingtian’s brow furrowed. “You—” Before he could finish, the line went dead. He stared at the phone, his grip tightening until his knuckles were white, his eyes darkening ominously. “Jingtian, who was that?” From the bed in the bedroom, Gu Manyin looked toward the balcony with a puzzled expression. Fu Jingtian pocketed his phone and walked over nonchalantly, tucking the blanket around her. “It was nothing. Finish your medicine.” Gu Manyin’s pale little face was heartbreaking to see. She grasped his hand, pouting pitifully. “This herbal soup is so bitter. The smell makes me feel sick.” Fu Jingtian raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall when we were pen pals, you told me you weren't afraid of bitter medicine. Be good. You have to drink it to get better.” He said it casually, not noticing the flicker of something in Gu Manyin’s eyes. Quickly, she looked up again, her big eyes glistening. “Okay, I’ll listen to you, Jingtian.” Gu Manyin had been in a coma for six years. She was frail and gaunt, her personality still frozen in her schoolgirl days. The sight of her tugged at his heartstrings. “Next time, I’ll have Assistant Zhang switch this to Western medicine.” Gu Manyin beamed, wrapping her arms around his and cooing, “Jingtian, you’re the best to me!” After leaving the room, Fu Jingtian went downstairs. Wang Shuqin approached with a bowl of ginseng soup. “Is Manyin feeling any better?” “She just finished her medicine. She’s on the phone with her parents now.” Wang Shuqin smiled. “Jingtian, dear, Manyin’s father is the chairman of the Sansheng Group. The fact that he allowed us to bring her here… well, that’s as good as giving his blessing for your marriage, isn’t it? We can’t afford to treat her poorly.” Seeing his mother’s doting concern for Gu Manyin, Fu Jingtian was suddenly reminded of the time last year when Rong Shu had been sick with a cold. Back then, Wang Shuqin had been downstairs, throwing things in a fit of rage, while Rong Shu had to drag her sick body out of bed to cook for them. Just as a flicker of complicated emotion stirred within him, Fu Jingtian stamped it out. First, she had caused the accident that put Gu Manyin in a coma, then she had manipulated her way into this marriage, taking advantage of the situation. She had brought it all on herself. Wang Shuqin glanced around. “Where’s Jinglin? I haven’t seen him all day.” Just as she spoke, the front door was thrown open with a bang. Fu Jinglin stormed in, his face a thundercloud of fury. “Jinglin, what’s wrong?” Wang Shuqin quickly set the bowl down and rushed to her younger son’s side. Fu Jinglin brushed her hand away. “I’m fine, Mom.” Then, his gaze shifted to his older brother, his expression a mixture of hesitation and urgency. “Bro, I saw Rong Shu at a bar today. She was with some male model… they were really close. It didn't look right.” Fu Jingtian’s face went cold. “Who?”