Lawyers

At thirty-five, I experienced a cliff-drop divorce.

In truth, it wasn’t entirely without warning.

I am a police officer and Liang Xu is a prosecutor; in the eyes of others, we were a match made in heaven.

Late one night, Liang Xu turned off the light, climbed into bed, and spoke slowly.

“I feel like my life right now is nothing more than a pool of stagnant water.”

After that, he changed careers to become a lawyer, specializing in litigation for the wealthy.

We changed houses, and we changed cars.

The day our son started elementary school, he asked me for a divorce.

“Even though we have sex once a week, it feels like a routine chore.

“Perhaps you should try someone else, too.”

And I really did.

But then Liang Xu lost control of his emotions, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently.

“You’re a cop and he’s a crook! Can you please wake up?!”

With a swift counter-move, I pinned his arm behind his back.

“I got used to drinking lukewarm water, so now I want to taste some strong liquor. He’s rich, handsome, and young-what could he possibly want from me other than myself?”

During the year of our purest love, Chen Ming and I shared a kiss in front of everyone when we won the Zhengfa Cup debate competition.

But later, when our son was diagnosed with autism, we both came to regret it.

After ten years of love, the wear and tear of life had transformed us from a match made in heaven into a pair of bitter rivals.

Time skipped forward to our son’s fifth birthday.

Chen Ming and I were in the car, arguing once again over our child’s illness.

Right in front of our son, we cursed each other, screaming for the other to drop dead.

The next second, an out-of-control heavy truck barreled toward us.

Chen Ming went against his instincts and jerked the steering wheel to the right, but the violent impact swallowed all the shouting and cursing anyway.

When I woke up again, we were back on the day we won the Zhengfa Cup.

This time, facing a stadium full of cheering and jeering, we pretended we barely knew each other.

After my ex-boyfriend, Gu Yanzhou, died, his will specifically named me as the one who had to read it aloud. He left me one billion in equity, three video recordings, and a final message: “Don’t be so quick to hate me. Among the people sitting across from you tonight, there is one who killed me-and your brother.”

“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.

My wife and I were a couple of influencers with over a million followers.

After she passed away, the account stopped updating.

Until one day, a stranger sent me a private message.

“I look a lot like her.

“I can be her double.”