“We need to talk alone.”
There were too many people around, and Zhao Mingshi knew he wouldn’t gain anything in front of them. He wanted to stabilize An Qiao first.
But the woman stepped forward, locking her gaze on him without blinking. She raised her hand and gently brushed his cheek with her palm, her expression deep and serious: “Do you know how much I’ve missed you all these years?”
Her look was intensely tender. She continued: “Every time I think of you, I think of the times we spent at school, in the student council…”
“…and in the hotel room.”
“You held me and said you loved me.”
Zhao Mingshi replied calmly, “An Qiao, I know I wronged you.”
“I was young and foolish back then.”
“I apologize for hurting you, for everything I did in the past.”
He even said: “When I said I loved you, it wasn’t a lie.”
“All these years, I’ve often thought of you.”
“I feel so guilty. I know I owe you so much.”
“Now I work at Microsoft. I have a green card and can settle in the U.S., live a good life.”
“If you’re willing, we can start over.”
“Give me a chance—I’ll make it up to you.”
Chen Xin’s expression softened bit by bit at Zhao Mingshi’s words, as if she were truly moved.
But the next second, a cold smile curled across her face. The hand that had stroked his cheek gripped his neck tightly. She stepped close and said sharply: “Zhao Mingshi, why didn’t you say any of this when I tried to kill myself back then? Huh?”
“If you had told me then, I had no reason not to believe you.”
“Now…”
Chen Xin’s eyes turned icy, her face hard with fury. “Do you think I’m a fool?!”
“Start over? Make amends?!”
She shoved him forcefully: “Since you want to make amends, then use your life to pay for it!”
With that, several men lunged at Zhao Mingshi.
Sensing danger, he shouted immediately: “I was called back by the Haicheng government! If you move against me, aren’t you afraid—”
But fists rained down on him like a storm.
Chen Xin stepped back a few paces, watching coldly, sneering: “Afraid your mother will intervene?”
“I not only dare to hit you, I dare expose what you drove me to back then!”
“What happens if I touch you? You deserve it!”
“What does the government care?”
“They won’t give a damn about personal misconduct or private affairs!”
She commanded the big, muscular men: “Hit him! Beat him mercilessly!”
Zhao Mingshi curled up like a quail, protecting his head, screaming in pain.
Chen Xin watched, while Yu Dong wandered casually into the bedroom and came out with the heavy laptop in her hands.
Yu Dong handed the laptop to Chen Xin: “This should be important to him, right?”
Chen Xin took it. Zhao Mingshi, still trapped under the blows, shouted: “Don’t touch my laptop!”
Before he could finish, Chen Xin smashed the laptop onto the floor. Not only that—she stomped on it with her sharp heels, fast and hard, as if the laptop were Zhao Mingshi’s second life, and she was there to claim it. Yu Dong joined in.
“An Qiao!” Zhao Mingshi cried.
“Hit him!” Chen Xin shouted.
…
Meanwhile, on Wukang Road, at home, Jiang Luo had long since put Zhao Mingshi out of his mind. He had returned home early, tidied the house, and prepared fruit for Huo Zongzuo, who would be back from a business trip that night.
Looking at the growing wind outside, Jiang Luo, in the living room, murmured: “Looks like it’s going to rain.”
He turned to the kitchen to prepare the fruit, arranging pieces into a transparent crystal fruit plate, elegant and neatly presented like those in upscale bars.
Jiang Luo loved doing this—planning and arranging things at home. Over the years, he had devoted much energy to the household, as Huo Zongzuo was far more carefree and simple in daily life.
Huo Zongzuo’s bedroom could remain unchanged for years—bed as bed, wardrobe as wardrobe. Jiang Luo, in contrast, loved shopping, decorating, and beautifying their home.
Since they began living together, Jiang Luo had taken charge of managing their life. This allowed Huo Zongzuo to enjoy luxury—a Rolls-Royce, designer clothes, a warm, lavish home.
Jiang Luo was cutting avocado when his phone rang. He held it between his cheek and shoulder, answering: “Yes?”
It was Yu Dong: “I took Chen Xin to teach that scumbag a lesson. It’s done now.”
“You should’ve told me earlier. I could’ve arranged for him to be humiliated and punished properly.”
“But it’s late now, we could only manage one round.”
Hearing her sobs, Jiang Luo asked: “Who’s crying?”
Yu Dong: “Chen Xin.”
“I’m keeping her company at the bar. She drinks and cries…”
She sighed. “All these years have built up so much in her. Poor thing.”
“All that pent-up emotion—she must have suffered terribly back then.”
“She just told me Zhao Mingshi’s parents took the 20,000 yuan he gave her family for her brother’s wedding.”
“I can’t imagine the hardship she endured. No wonder she even changed her name.”
Jiang Luo responded with a soft “Hmm,” and said: “Keep her company.”
Yu Dong: “Okay, I’ll hang up.”
Jiang Luo tossed the phone aside and continued cutting avocado.
Around eleven, reflections of car lights flickered on the glass. Jiang Luo came down the stairs and saw Huo Zongzuo approaching. He ran out immediately: “Dad!”
Huo Zongzuo scooped him up, carrying him inside.
“I missed you,” Jiang Luo said freely, showing no restraint. He kissed Huo Zongzuo’s face, pressing against him.
Huo Zongzuo, barefoot, sat down on the sofa with Jiang Luo in his arms: “I told you, no need to wait for me. It’s late; rest early.”
“I have to wait for you,” Jiang Luo said, tilting his chin. “Kiss me.”
They met in a gentle, lingering kiss, over and over, never seeming to be enough.
Pulling back, Jiang Luo brushed Huo Zongzuo’s hair and noticed raindrops on his shoulders: “Is it raining?”
“Yes, just now.”
Huo Zongzuo patted Jiang Luo’s leg: “Go upstairs and rest.”
Jiang Luo kissed him again, then picked up the fruit plate from the table, offering it: “Eat, it’s fresh.”
He fed Huo Zongzuo the fruit with a fork. Huo Zongzuo ate, then kissed Jiang Luo, savoring the taste and aroma together.
Jiang Luo laughed, shoulders trembling: “You’re eating so well.”
Huo Zongzuo swallowed, kissed his cheek, and teased: “Take the fruit upstairs, hmm?”
Jiang Luo smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes: “Then the bed will end up sticky with juice.”
Huo Zongzuo kissed his cheek again softly: “Let me taste—you alone is sweet, the fruit is sweet, or you and the fruit together are sweeter?”
Jiang Luo could wait no longer. He grabbed Huo Zongzuo’s neck and kissed him fiercely: “Right here. Worst case, we switch to the sofa.”
Meanwhile, Zhao Mingshi sat battered on the hotel floor, surrounded by shattered laptop pieces.
He touched his lips, wincing from the pain.
Looking at the destroyed laptop, he felt a mix of disbelief and anger—but also, strangely, a smile creeping across his face.
His eyes hardened with cold intent—good. Very good, Jiang Luo.
And all of this, rather than defeating him, became a tool he could exploit. Using the phone tossed on the bed, he called Zhao Shuo for help.
Soon, Zhao Shuo and Su Lan rushed over. They entered, seeing the black fragments scattered across the floor and Zhao Mingshi lying in disarray. Zhao Shuo hurried over: “Mingming! What happened!?”
They helped him sit on the sofa. Zhao Shuo and Su Lan saw his mouth and forehead were cut, and his white shirt was covered in footprints. He had clearly been beaten.