showdown
In late autumn in Beijing, the ginkgo trees were ablaze with golden leaves. Li Fuqiang had just returned from a business trip to Hong Kong, covered in dust but carrying several newly agreed-upon cooperation agreements, and was in high spirits. He took off his coat and handed it to Shen Ping, who came to greet him, and casually asked, "Where is Madam?"
"Madam has been staying at Ya Garden these past few days. She said the new season's designs need to be finalized, and it's more convenient for her to stay there." Shen Ping took the clothes, her tone as respectful as ever, but there was a hint of something unsaid in her eyes.
Li Fuqiang paid no attention and went straight to the study to deal with the backlog of documents. Unexpectedly, Shen Ping did not leave as usual, but followed him in and gently closed the study door. This unusual action made Li Fuqiang look up and look at her with a slightly questioning expression.
Shen Ping wore an expression that was a mixture of embarrassment and caution. She took out a brown paper document bag from her bosom, but instead of handing it over directly, she gently placed it on the edge of the large desk. Her voice was very low: "Sir, this... Xiao Yu brought it over this morning. She said that Madam instructed her to give it to you as soon as you return."
Li Fuqiang frowned slightly, somewhat puzzled. Zhiwei rarely communicated with him this way. He picked up the file folder; it wasn't very thick. He pulled it out and found a medical examination report. The name "Shen Zhiwei" on the cover made him pause for a moment, then he opened it.
His gaze quickly swept over the usual items until it abruptly fixed on a certain page. A combination of English letters was like a cold brand, clearly imprinted on the paper—HPV positive. In that instant, the study was so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat. Absurd, that was his first thought.
His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the report, causing tiny creases to form at the edges. He looked up at Chen Ping, who stood with her hands at her sides, eyes downcast, and his voice deepened: "What's going on?"
Shen Ping lowered her head even further, her voice barely audible, yet each word was clear: "Madam... Madam didn't say anything. She just asked Xiao Yu to tell me that her routine check-up three months ago came back negative. Madam suggested... suggested that you, sir, should also get a check-up. And..." She paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully, "Madam also hinted that it would be best to investigate... anyone you've been in contact with in the last three months."
"Nearly three months"... These four words were like a precise scalpel, instantly dissecting the defenses Li Fuqiang had tried to build. Several blurry faces, both male and female, flashed uncontrollably through his mind, the scenes chaotic. The slight displeasure he felt due to the misunderstanding with Zhiwei was immediately replaced by a more complex emotion—a sense of embarrassment at having his privacy so precisely exposed, a sense of dejection at being unable to refute absolute evidence, and a chill at Zhiwei's calm, so... "professional" handling of the situation.
"Madam...has always had this kind of checkup routine?" he asked, his tone returning to its usual calm, but upon closer listening, there was still a hint of tension.
Shen Ping answered cautiously, "I asked Xiaoyu privately. Xiaoyu said that since the year they got married, Madam has gone to Peking Union Medical College Hospital every three months without fail for a full gynecological checkup, and she pays great attention to this aspect of health management." She paused, then added, "Xiaoyu also said that Madam always keeps the reports safe, but this is the first time... she had someone deliver them. Madam's exact words to Xiaoyu were: 'Please be sure to give this to Mr. Li personally; it concerns his health and is of utmost importance.'"
"It concerns health, it's no small matter." Li Fuqiang repeated these eight words in his mind, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She had handled things flawlessly, her demeanor impeccably upright, leaving no room for criticism, yet she had presented him with the sharpest spearhead in the most dignified way.
A hush fell over the study. Li Fuqiang waved his hand, and Shen Ping, as if granted a pardon, quietly slipped out and gently closed the door behind her.
He sat alone in the large leather chair, staring at the report, his face so dark it seemed to drip water. This seemingly insignificant report carried more weight than any tantrum or accusation. It was like a cold mirror, forcing him to see the consequences of his indulgence and clearly reflecting the truth that Zhiwei had seen through everything.
After a long silence, he picked up his phone and dialed Qian Dayou, his voice revealing neither joy nor anger: "Arrange for me to have a comprehensive physical examination, the top-of-the-line confidentiality package. Also, find a way to get all the people I've been in contact with in the last three months, regardless of gender, to get HPV screening. You can come up with your own reasons, and report the results to me as soon as possible."
Qian Dayou responded repeatedly on the other end of the phone, his tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension.
The results came back quickly, and Li Fuqiang himself was not spared. Staring at his test results, a nameless anger welled up inside him, a mixture of lingering fear and a sense of being offended. He immediately flew to Switzerland, ostensibly for annual rest and health maintenance, but in reality, to utilize the country's top-tier medical resources for intervention and treatment. At the same time, he instructed Qian Dayou that the young model who had been causing trouble outside and brought him the virus must be "cleaned up" and completely removed from their circle.
In a private clinic by Lake Zurich, Li Fuqiang gazed at the cold lake water outside the window and, for the first time, felt with such clarity the qualitative change in their relationship. The thin veil of tender affection between him and Zhiwei had been completely torn away, revealing the cold, hard foundation of reality beneath.
This affair began and ended quietly, as if it had never happened. But when Li Fuqiang returned to Beijing, his feelings towards Zhiwei were different. She would still greet him when he came home, take his coat, her smile gentle, her eyes clear. But he could no longer feel any warmth from that perfect facade. Behind that smile, was it a carefully calculated performance, or the composure of drawing a clear line? He realized for the first time that some things, once broken, can never be recovered.
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