Adultery

On the day I was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer, I lost the cat that Chi Zhou and his ex-girlfriend had raised together.

He said, “Xia Zhi, if you can’t find the cat, then don’t come back either!”

Later, I died out there and never returned to our home again.

Before we married, my husband had a girl who had spent five years chasing him with everything she had, but he fell for me at first sight.

Three years later, that girl returned to the country, successful and famous. She was now an internationally renowned photographer, dazzling and breathtakingly beautiful.

As for me, I was a stay-at-home mom, weighing over 130 pounds, with nothing to show for myself.

At a gathering, someone teased Lu Huaixu.

“Qin Shuang is still a virgin for your sake…”

He snapped at the person immediately, “Don’t talk nonsense!”

But that night.

He stayed out on the balcony, smoking for the entire night.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but this card has insufficient funds.”

I froze for a heartbeat before quickly handing over another one.

The red light flashed again.

“I’m sorry, this card is also declined.”

“…What?”

I steadied my breathing and dialed my husband’s number.

“Honey, haven’t you been paid yet? The baby is out of formula.”

His voice through the receiver was devoid of warmth.

“A household isn’t supported by one person alone. I expect you to learn how to be independent instead of living like some pathetic parasite.”

With those words, he declared war.

Fine.

Then let the hunt begin.

In the third year of my marriage to my childhood sweetheart,

I happened to stumble across an old post he’d written.

In it, he talked about being forced to part from the person he truly loved, and how he had “no choice” but to marry the girl-next-door childhood friend.

And I just so happened to be that childhood friend in his story.

In his tragic little romance, I was the obstacle standing between the male and female leads.

After my husband’s favored concubine shoved me into a deep well, I miscarried. As crimson blood spread through the water, I heard a strange melody rise from the depths.

“Third Set of National Middle School Students’ Radio Gymnastics, Dancing Youth, begins now.”

On our wedding day, he left me alone at the venue and disappeared.

Four months pregnant, I called him again and again.

At first, he simply didn’t answer. Later, his phone was turned off completely.

Whispers began to rise around me.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen a groom run away from his own wedding.”

“Shotgun marriages never involve decent people. No wonder he doesn’t want her.”

I stood in the wind, at a complete loss, trying over and over to reassure the guests as they left one after another.

All day long, I waited like a fool on that street corner. Even after everyone had gone, he still never appeared.

An auntie nearby muttered without thinking, “Jiang Shen looks like your father’s ex-wife’s son. Don’t tell me he came to get revenge on you.”

On the way back, those words kept echoing through my mind.

Lost and dazed, my car collided with a truck. My four-month-old child and I were buried beneath the wreckage.

I was a widow starved for a man.

While I was burning incense and praying for a good match, some villain broke into my boudoir.

I knocked him out with a vase.

Then I took a look and-oh. A beautiful man.

So I tied him up, hid him in my little courtyard, and had my way with him every day…

Later, he ran off.

When we met again, I knelt on the ground and stammered in terror, “Th-this humble woman greets His Royal Highness the Crown Prince…”

The woman who lived across from us was beautiful, with a captivating, mature allure.

Every man in the building was bewitched by her. Only my husband scoffed.

But when the elevator suddenly plunged,

he completely forgot about me and our daughter. He turned around and pulled her tightly into his arms.

So tightly it was as if he wanted to press her into his own body.

Mom had a Leather Handbook that recorded every woman Dad kept on the side.

One of them, Aunt Wei, was marked in particular.

In Mom’s delicate handwriting, she had written: This is the little toy I’m leaving you. Enjoy this life to your heart’s content, my daughter.

After Mom died, that woman buzzed into my life like a fly.

And I swatted her straight down into hell.

After we made love that night, I drifted off to sleep.

My husband, who never liked saying sweet words, suddenly said: “Honey, I love you.”

I opened my eyes.

That tone was all too familiar.

It was exactly the tone he used when he’d done something guilty.