Lu Jingchi rose to his feet. “Wanrou, we’ve left the things here. We have to go.” A note of panic entered Lu Wanrou’s voice as she shot up from her seat. “Brother, what’s the rush? Not everyone’s here yet. You should at least stay for dinner.” “We can’t. I have something to take care of at the company.” Lu Jingchi took Jiang Lan’s hand and led her out of the Lu residence without a backward glance. Lu Wanrou’s anger simmered. She couldn’t understand her brother at all. Protecting that mute had been one thing… but even though he’d had a girlfriend at the time, after being forced to marry the woman, he hadn't tormented her. He’d even moved out for her sake. If he loved Jiang Lan, why had he done nothing when she lost the baby? Why was he still tangled up with that other woman? But if he didn’t love her, why did he protect her at every turn and refuse to divorce her? Back in the car, Lu Jingchi lit a cigarette, a clear sign of his agitation. Jiang Lan sat quietly beside him, waiting for him to finish. When he was done, he turned to look at her. She wore the same docile expression as always, a faint, placid smile on her lips, like a maid awaiting her master’s orders. A knot of frustration tightened in Lu Jingchi’s chest. He couldn’t explain it. She was exactly the same as she’d always been. “What did you think about what Wanrou said?” Jiang Lan looked at him, confused. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on her. “About having a child.” He saw it clearly—the smile on her lips froze. It wavered, twitching a few times before settling back into place. Her hands moved to form the words: *Mother was right. We shouldn’t have a child.* Jiang Lan had learned one thing growing up: anything she ever hoped for would eventually shatter into sharp, glittering pieces. The more beautiful the dream, the deeper the cuts when it broke. It was like the birthday cake she’d wanted so badly as a child. Her grandfather had bought one for her, and just as she was brimming with excitement, ready to make a wish, Lu Wanrou had shoved her face into it. When she lifted her head, humiliated and covered in frosting, the room had erupted in laughter. They all thought it was hilarious. All Jiang Lan could do was secretly stick out her tongue to taste the frosting at the corner of her mouth. It wasn’t as sweet as she had imagined. To them, the cake wasn’t for eating. Just like now, Lu Jingchi didn’t really want a child with her. “We didn’t use protection last night, did we?” She signed back immediately: *I took a pill.* Lu Jingchi watched her hands. Perhaps from their constant use, her fingers were long and slender. When she signed, they seemed to dance, possessing a unique, captivating grace. He stared at her for a moment longer before tearing his gaze away and starting the car. “Good.” Jiang Lan lowered her head. He was testing her again. Just like his mother, he was terrified of the shame a mute child would bring. She was grateful she had crushed that fleeting flutter of hope, that she hadn't laid her love bare for him to see. He had told her not to love him, but he didn't know that every time he defended her, every time he offered her a sliver of kindness, he was planting another seed of love in her heart. Sometimes, Jiang Lan wished he would just hurt her like the others did. At least then, only her body would ache, not her heart. Lu Jingchi drove her to the cafe where she worked. Just as he pulled up to the entrance, he saw Xia Yan standing there. Xia Yan always found a way to find him. She was stunning—tall, with long legs and a cascade of dark curls that tumbled down her back. She was the kind of woman who commanded attention wherever she went. Her eyes landed on Lu Jingchi and Jiang Lan as they got out of the car, and her fury ignited. A fire blazed in her gaze, so intense that any stranger would have mistaken her for the rightful wife. “What are you doing here?” Lu Jingchi showed no surprise, nor a hint of guilt. Clearly, this wasn't the first time they’d had such a scene.