The large bed, covered with champagne-colored silk bedding, was empty.

The entire room felt like a ghost town.

I curled up in bed, hugging Fu Yanshen's pillow tightly, inhaling the lingering scent of his.

Over time.

There was no flavor left.

"Fu Yanshen, I can't hold on any longer..."

"Where are you...?"

It's been a year; even if it's like finding a needle in a haystack, it should have been found by now.

...He is truly no longer in this world.

I took out the medicine bottle from the hidden compartment under the mattress and swallowed all the pills I had secretly saved up for the past six months...

*

past life

The black Maybach stopped outside the villa's gate, and after about ten minutes, the driver still hadn't seen Mr. Fu get out of the car.

Through the rearview mirror, the man exhaled smoke, his deep, sculpted face flickering between light and shadow.

He seemed preoccupied.

Mr. Fu has been doing this lately, smoking a lot of cigarettes behind his wife's back.

"Mr. Fu, your wife has come out to greet you."

Hearing the sound, Fu Yanshen snapped out of his reverie, tossed the cigarette into the car ashtray, opened the window, and waved to shake off the smell of smoke.

The driver smiled faintly, thinking to himself, "Mr. Fu may seem to have the upper hand in front of his wife, but deep down he's henpecked."

"Honey, why are you home so late again?"

As soon as Fu Yanshen got off the train and stood still, Sheng Qiaoqiao affectionately threw herself into his arms, tilting her head back, her brows slightly furrowed, and her lips pursed, looking a little dissatisfied.

"Still smoking!"

She sniffed his suit jacket like a dog's nose, pouting and accusing him.

Fu Yanshen wanted to explain, but when he thought about how little time they had left, his eyes darkened.

"Alright, alright, I know you have another social engagement."

"We're almost home. I made you some nourishing soup to soothe your stomach!"

Sheng Qiaoqiao was very good at reading people's expressions. For five years after their marriage, she had been carefully trying to please him. If he showed any displeasure, she would never dare to criticize him.

"I don't want to drink, stop wasting your time."

Once inside, Fu Yanshen coldly uttered this remark and went straight up the stairs, loosening his tie as he went.

He looked very irritable.

On the kitchen stove, the clay pot she had reheated again and again that evening was still steaming.

Sheng Qiaoqiao felt a chill in her heart.

In a flash, she tried to smooth things over, saying that he must have encountered some difficulties at work and was in a bad mood because of it.

In bed, the man regained his usual passion.

Her heart pounded, her fingertips dug deep into his back, she arched her back to meet his, breathed into his ear, and mustered her courage to say, "Honey, let's have a baby..."

He refused to have children even after five years of marriage.

Fu Yanshen was taken aback, and then a bitter look flashed in his dark eyes, and the force on his waist became heavier and more intense.

As night deepened, the passion faded.

The exhausted girl was already fast asleep in his arms like a cat, but Fu Yanshen was wide awake.

He was clearly a misanthropic person who wished he could die sooner, but when death was truly near, he became indecisive and inexplicably troubled.

"Xiao Fu, I...love you so much..."

Upon hearing the sound, the man stopped reaching for his cigarette, and his breath caught in his throat.

Bathed in the dim light of the desk lamp, he stared blankly at the person in his arms.

She clung to his body, seemingly relying on him completely, as scenes from when they first met replayed in his mind...

After a long while, Fu Yanshen laughed, a bitter and sorrowful laugh.