Chapter Twenty-Three: Divorce Agreement

Qiao Yuan was awakened by the morning light, his mind still immersed in the haze of alcohol.

At this moment, he was lying on the gilded bed. He turned his head and saw Cheng Qing, who was leaning against the headboard, her face flushed with shyness: "Mr. Qiao, last night was our wedding night..."

Qiao Yuan was taken aback.

After Lin Tang finished talking about the divorce last night, he sat in the living room, drinking glass after glass of wine... He couldn't remember anything after that.

But... none of that matters anymore.

Qiao Yuan threw back the covers, barefoot, and pulled out the gilded box from the bedside table. He took out two gold bars and slammed them onto Cheng Qing's hand.

"Take it!"

Cheng Qing's face turned deathly pale instantly. She grabbed the gold bar and threw it at Qiao Yuan, her fingernails scratching the back of his hand. "Qiao Yuan! What do you take me for? A prostitute?!"

The gold bar struck the wardrobe with a crisp sound.

Qiao Yuan didn't turn around. He grabbed a long robe, put it on, and walked downstairs in his cloth shoes.

In the mirror at the corner of the stairs, he saw his eyes were red and his stubble was bluish, making him look like a skinned wild beast.

The living room curtains were not drawn, and the morning light shone on the light brown floor tiles.

Lin Tang stood by the window. She wore a light blue dress, the one she often wore when she was studying at Tongji University before her marriage. Her hair was braided, the ends of which were damp with sunlight. An old leather suitcase sat at her feet.

"You..." Qiao Yuan looked at Lin Tang, who was completely different from before him, feeling fear and unease. He wanted to ask her a question, but his throat was sore from the pain.

Lin Tang bent down, took a document out of the box, and gently placed it on the cold glass coffee table. Her movements were calm and unhurried, carrying an unquestionable decisiveness.

The morning light slanted in through the high window, clearly illuminating the few cold, large printed characters on the document cover:

Divorce papers.

She truly kept her word.

The day after his concubine-taking banquet, while he was still immersed in the heart-wrenching confrontation of the previous night and the aftershocks of this absurd chaos, she had swiftly and decisively laid down this final break in the most formal and ruthless way before him.

Qiao Yuan sat down and silently took another sip of wine. The spicy liquid slid down his throat, but it couldn't extinguish the burning pain in his heart.

He twitched the corners of his mouth, letting out a short, cold sneer, and slammed his wine glass heavily on the coffee table. The crisp sound of glass colliding against glass was particularly jarring in the silence.

"Divorce?" He raised his eyes. "Lin Tang, don't even think about it!"

Lin Tang met his gaze, her face expressionless. "I don't want anything except the operating rights of the Hongkou factory."

After saying this, she stopped looking at him, turned around, and walked out.

"lady!"

Ah Xiu suddenly ran downstairs.

"Madam..." Ah Xiu's sobs were suppressed, her voice thick with emotion, "Take me with you, I'll follow you wherever you go..."

Lin Tang paused halfway down the stairs, turned her head to face Ah Xiu, and smiled slightly upwards: "Okay."

She didn't say a word of farewell, nor did she give any unnecessary glances; she walked straight to the door.

Ah Xiu followed closely behind, like a frightened but incredibly loyal fledgling bird.

Qiao Yuan stood in the shadows in the center of the living room, his fingers gripping the rim of a wine glass tightly.

"Lin Tang!" His voice was hoarse, a metallic taste of blood churning in his throat, the three words practically ground out from between his teeth, "Are you really that heartless?"

Lin Tang's hand was already on the brass doorknob, the cold metallic touch spreading from her palm to her limbs. She finally turned half her face to the side, and under the light and shadow, the lines of her profile were as cold and sharp as a plaster statue, but the corners of her mouth were slightly turned up, like a crescent moon floating in a cold pool.

"Heartless?" Her voice was light and airy, carrying a hint of mockery. "Mr. Qiao is joking. Compared to Mr. Qiao, who can truly be called heartless?"

Cheng Qing leaned against the carved railing on the second floor, taking in the whole scene. Her face, which was originally flushed with embarrassment and anger, now held a mocking smile.

Before she could finish speaking, Qiao Yuan glared at her fiercely and said, "Get out!"

Cheng Qing's face turned from white to red, and she glared at Qiao Yuan fiercely before covering her face and running back upstairs.

...

Lin Tang hailed a rickshaw.

Ah Xiu sat down in the chair, still somewhat bewildered. "Madam, where do we pick this up?"

Lin Tang sighed softly, "Go home. Go back to the place before I married into the Qiao family."

She glanced back at the Qiao residence one last time.

The rickshaw wheels rolled over the asphalt roads of the French Concession, heading towards the alleyways of Hongkou.

Lin Tang sat on the car seat, her fingertips rubbing the brass key in her pocket. She listened to the aroma of wontons, the smoke from the coal stove, and the shouts of women in the alley as they gradually drifted in on the wind. Suddenly, she felt her eyes burning.

She looked up at the sky; the clouds had dispersed, letting in a few rays of the setting sun, which tinged the collar of her light blue dress with a golden-red hue.

"We've arrived, Miss Lin." The driver stopped at the entrance of the alley and pointed to the old house with its blue bricks and gray tiles ahead. "Number 37, the door knocker is brass, isn't it?"

Lin Tang nodded, paid the money, picked up her suitcase, and walked into the alley.

Ah Xiu followed closely behind.

The cobblestone path in the alley was uneven, but she walked steadily in her high heels.

When she pushed open the creaking wooden door of the old house in Hongkou, a musty smell mixed with dust hit her face, making Ah Xiu cough several times.

Spiderwebs hung low in the cramped hall, dusty clutter piled up in the corners, and the only window that let in light was covered with years of grease.

In the blink of an eye, almost ten years have passed since Aunt Gu passed away. Before she died, she kept calling out the name of her lost daughter, "Manqing." Her father held her hand, tears streaming down his face, and called out her maiden name, "Yingming..."

In that instant, she realized that Aunt Gu had always been in her father's heart.

They lived under the same roof for so many years, usually just bickering. Aunt Gu would mock my father for being an old scholar, and my father would also dislike Aunt Gu's sharp tongue. Life went on like this, full of arguments and quarrels. But who would have thought that their hair would turn white in an instant, and that they would be separated by death so quickly...

In the years leading up to her death, Aunt Gu had been mentally unstable, but during a brief moment of lucidity, she was remarkably clear-headed. She asked her father to write a will, leaving the house to Lin Tang. She scribbled her name on the will, then smiled at her father, saying, "You know, Manqing will come back, won't she? When she does, she'll have a home. Jintang, you have to watch over it for me! Waiting for my Manqing to come home… I say, Lin Jun, you old nemesis, it's a pity that when I met you in this life, I was already someone else's mistress. I hope I'll meet you sooner in the next life…"

Lin Tang stood in the room, looking around. Memories flooded her mind, and she couldn't help but shed tears.

Ah Xiu, unaware of Lin Tang's worries, deftly rolled up her sleeves, fetched a bucket of well water, soaked a rag, and vigorously scrubbed the greasy stove. Amidst the splashing water, her muffled sobs mingled: "Madam, please rest, I'll do it..."

Lin Tang didn't answer, but silently took down an old, chipped bamboo broom from the wall. With a swift motion, the broom tip swept across the ground, raising a cloud of fine dust. Sunlight slanted down from the high window, and the dust floating in the beams of light resembled countless tiny gold flakes, settling between her calm brows.

As night fell, the dim yellow light of the kerosene lamp cast flickering shadows on the walls, making the small room warm and tranquil.

The subtle sounds of Ah Xiu bustling around in the kitchen drifted through the door, like a calming undercurrent.

Lin Tang sat alone at the worn-out old desk by the window. On the desk lay a dark brown cardboard box, its edges frayed and worn. Her fingertips trembled slightly as she gently opened the lid.

Her fingertips traced the familiar yet unfamiliar handwriting, and her gaze fell on a photograph pressed beneath the notebook. In the photo, she and Bai Mu stood side by side in front of Tongji University's gate, both dressed in student uniforms, their smiles bright and clear, their eyes brimming with anticipation for the future.

The old house's brick walls were rough and cold, yet their authenticity brought a sense of peace. She no longer needed to play a role, nor did she need to adapt to that distorted position for anyone else.

“Madam,” Ah Xiu pushed open the door and came in carrying a bowl of steaming porridge. Her eyes were still red and swollen, but she tried her best to keep her voice steady. “Please eat something. You haven’t eaten much all day.”

Lin Tang gently closed the box lid, concealing the marks of the past once more. She looked up and gave Ah Xiu a faint but genuine smile: "Okay. Thank you for your hard work, Ah Xiu."

Under the dim light, her profile was reflected on the mottled wall, carrying a sense of calm and weariness after shedding a heavy burden.

...

However, outside this tranquil place, news from Jiangcheng spread like wildfire, carried by the winds blowing through the alleyways.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking and the smoke from the coal stoves in the alley had not yet filled the air, a sudden, piercing car horn shattered the tranquility of the old houses in Hongkou.

Ah Chen's familiar black Ford, like a reckless wild beast, plunged into the narrow alleyway, its tires screeching sharply as they rubbed against the wet, slippery cobblestones.

He rushed headlong toward the familiar wooden door, completely unaware of a figure flashing out from around the corner of the alley.

A muffled thud.

He clutched his chest, looking up in shock and anger, about to reprimand someone, when he met a pair of equally astonished eyes hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses.

"What's Mr. Chen doing here?" Ah Chen immediately became alert.