She chuckled. Qi Sui's humiliated expression became her medal.
The office was silent. No one dared to speak or participate in such a bloody topic. Occasionally, one or two colleagues turned to glance at Qi Sui's expression, then quickly looked away, pretending not to hear.
The desk phone rang, breaking the silence.
Qi Sui almost mechanically moved her hand to answer it.
"7459 here."
The man's distinctive, foggy voice sounded: "Ms. Qi, where's your compensatory leave request? Send it to me as soon as possible. I'm about to return to headquarters to handle some matters."
Qi Sui was speechless. How should she respond? The correct operation would be to immediately reply to her immediate supervisor that she would send the request quickly, hang up, fill out the request, and submit it. But if she hadn't misheard or misjudged, this immediate supervisor was the other man who had intruded into her marriage.
At this moment, Qi Sui found herself oddly calm. She didn't become hysterical or interrogate anyone in the office. She just moved the mouse, opened the leave request form, calmly filled in her information and the two days she chose to rest, and even clearly selected the date she joined the company. Then she clicked "Submit."
Then, speaking into the phone to the still-laughing male voice, she asked: "I'm sorry, I need to confirm. International Trade Department—Supervisor—Xiang Yu, is that correct?"
A laugh came from the other end, almost indulgent: "Mm, yes, it's me, Ms. Qi. Send it quickly; I'll approve it and leave. You can get off work early too."
She hung up and clicked "Submit." Soon, her leave request was returned and approved. Qi Sui's heart fell heavily back into place. Everything was settled.
She had to admit a sad truth: she had been played—played by this marriage, this dirty emotion. Qi Sui collapsed weakly into her office chair. She raised one hand to cover her eyes. What a fucking world. How could she be so stupid?
The half-supervisor of the planning department, that taro-flavored cake, that expensive tie, that beautiful face. Thinking it over, every piece of evidence was ironclad. Xiang Yu. Xiang Yu. Xiang Yu. Even if she repeated the name a thousand times, no miracle would happen. A man with such an indisputably beautiful appearance had intruded into her marriage in the most unbearable, shameful way, belittling her existence, and even—had he personally flaunted in front of her?
Yes, Qi Sui thought. That was a vicious, cheap mockery. So disgusting she wanted to vomit.
She looked at the approved leave request on the computer. Grabbing her coat from the back of the chair and her small travel bag, she strode out without caring that she knocked over the office chair or that she didn't tidy up the documents on her desk. She just swiped her card and rushed out of the company. Where to go next, what the office would think of her—she no longer cared.
It was like a dream. A dream of locust trees. She was about to, about to break free from the shadow of her marriage. Qi Sui was no longer the weak woman who cowered in her marriage, nor the unemployed woman who couldn't create value in Qian Jin's eyes. These two weeks had passed like a dream. She was still lingering in this enchanting dream when she was shattered by ruthless reality.
The small travel bag hung from her fingers, turning them blue. Her shadow disappeared. Qi Sui looked up blankly; the tall building before her was like a giant beast about to devour her whole. In a daze, she was still the woman sitting in the coffee shop across the street, watching her husband in the car opposite and the beautiful man in the passenger seat, but unable to do anything. That man looked back through the mist. Raindrops on the glass fell on Qi Sui's eyelashes, forming a clear lens. His gaze was distant. The curve of his lower eyelid was lifted by the lines at the corners of his eyes, resulting in a pair of eyes that seemed to smile but didn't, a completely cold expression.
Xiang Yu. She should call him Xiang Yu now.
Xiang Yu's gaze penetrated layers of obstacles and landed straight in her heart. Qi Sui felt as if she were still sitting in that seat symbolizing her husband's betrayal, holding the hot latte she hated, the rising mist no longer hiding that person's appearance. He was thin, but that face was too familiar. He was smiling, with such a gentle expression.
Qi Sui stared at the corner of his mouth, remembering that rainy night in the driver's seat, where his lips were clearly upturned. She began to see threats everywhere, gradually recalling all signs of her husband's betrayal, attributing them all to Xiang Yu. Yes, that was it. He was so proud, yet strangely kind to her... what other reason could there be? What was so enjoyable about mocking a woman who had already lost everything?
She went home, picked up a water glass. A pair of blue-pink couple cups were in her hands. She almost coldly examined the childish, ridiculous patterns on them. Hysterical inside, she closed her eyes. With a forceful swing, she tried to discard all sources of pain. The cup was thrown.
"Bang." The sound of glass shattering against the floor, accompanied by everyone's screams.
Qi Sui slowly stood up, pale, looking down from above at these family members who were never really hers at this birthday banquet.
"Suisui!! What's wrong?!" Qian's mother hurriedly stood up from her seat, her plump face showing obvious worry. She pulled a tissue from the table, carefully took Qi Sui's hand, and wrapped it around a narrow wound cut by the glass. She kept patting Qian Jin, who was sitting nearby, urging: "Quick! Get the red medicine from my bag! Treat Suisui!"
Qi Sui stopped her, refusing: "No need, Mom. I'm going back first."
Qian's mother: "What's wrong with you, child? You came without saying anything, your complexion is so bad. If you don't feel well, you should have told me earlier. We can gather another time."
The old man in the main seat, with graying hair, frowned and said sternly: "Xiao Sui, if you have a problem, speak up. We'll solve it together. Don't make a face in front of so many people. Everyone came out to eat, not to see your expression."
This was the protagonist of today's birthday banquet.
Qi Sui freed herself from Qian's mother's hand and got up to leave.
Qian's mother clicked her tongue twice. The father-in-law on the main seat frowned and slammed the table: "Xiao Sui! You child, why are you so unreasonable today? I said we can discuss everything together. If you and A-Jin have a conflict, I'll take care of him!"
"Dad!" Qian Jin finally spoke, stopping him: "Dad, Mom, you don't need to worry about this. I'll take Qi Sui back."
Qi Sui stood far away near the door, watching this scene as if she were a stranger. She suddenly laughed out loud. Wasn't she a stranger? At this table, who, of all people, was related to her by blood?
"No need." Her voice was cold. Her eyes slowly moved, surveying everyone at the table—their expressions of dissatisfaction, confusion, or schadenfreude; she saw them all. She began: "Today is the last day I attend this kind of occasion as the daughter-in-law of the Qian family."
Silence in the private room. No one spoke. A pin drop could be heard.
Breaking the silence was Qian's mother. She nervously walked over, grabbed Qi Sui's arm, and tried to pull her out of the room, apologizing: "No, no, Suisui is just very angry. I said A-Jin was too much this time, working all the time, neglecting the marriage."
But Qi Sui didn't move. She stood still, freeing her hand from Qian's mother. Her gaze fell on Qian Jin's vacant face. There seemed to be a plea in his eyes, but Qi Sui didn't want to see more.
"I'm not joking, and I won't go back." Qi Sui dropped a bomb under the table matter-of-factly: "Your good son, good nephew... whatever—Qian Jin—had an affair months ago, with a man. I've investigated and have evidence. Qian Jin and I have agreed; we'll go to the Civil Affairs Bureau tomorrow, Wednesday, to apply for divorce. Don't worry about my property; my mother had it notarized before she died. He won't get a cent; he'll leave with nothing."
"As for you—" Qi Sui's eyes were clear, her pale face even colder than a ghost's, "we'll have nothing to do with each other from now on. Don't bother me again. I have so much evidence it's scary, enough to ruin Qian Jin's reputation."
Qian's mother was frozen in fear. She reached out, carefully pulling at Qi Sui's sleeve, her voice as soft as a mosquito's: "Sui... Suisui, maybe there's a mistake? Our A-Jin... how could he do such a heartless thing?"
"Yeah, Suisui... you might want to reconsider?"
"Xiao Sui! You can't say things like that blindly!"
Qi Sui pried open Qian's mother's fingers one by one. No longer the gentle, kind daughter-in-law, she stared at her with bone-chillingly cold eyes and asked: "Mom, do you really not know?"
Their only college graduate in the family, now settled in this city, the golden phoenix from the mountain nest—did his parents really not know whether he liked men or women? Whether they knew or not, Qi Sui no longer wanted to pursue. This was a scam, and what difference did it make whether one person or ten people had deceived her?
She pushed open the door. The sky was nearly dark, with a fine drizzle falling. Outside the door, there were landscape pavilions. The icy raindrops landed in the last shadow of her heart, nurturing pain and suppression. But her soul, after a shock-like tremor, breathed inside its shell. She had smoothly completed the main part of the plot.
Qi Sui touched her chest, feeling the constant sorrow disappear. Someone caught up. His upright, scholarly face was now pained and ferocious. Qian Jin begged her for one last chance—he said he would try to love her, he wouldn't let her down this time. But what use was that? Qi Sui had died long ago. Unvalued in marriage, ignored and bullied at work, her meaning of existence had been worn away. And this man, nominally her husband, who had deceived her feelings and tricked her into marriage, was the most shameful and damnable criminal responsible for this outcome.
The man before her tried to grip her hand, crying like a child, begging for another chance. His appearance was ugly.
Qi Sui expressionlessly withdrew her hand, swung her arm in full circle, and used all her strength to slap a huge handprint on the face of this slickly dressed man. "Qian Jin, you're not regretful, nor guilty. You're just scared."
The man's hair, styled with pomade, fell messily, making him look pathetic and ugly. For the first time, Qi Sui looked at him with a strange expression, as if he were a stubborn, inescapable stink bug. This Qi Sui was incomprehensible and unbearable to Qian Jin. It shouldn't be like this. Qi Sui should always be the one left in the corner of the family, pale and submissive. She should unconditionally understand everything about him, even knowing he liked men, she should step aside, not like this.
Qi Sui: "Have you decided?"
Qian Jin looked up. The pale woman was now terrifyingly unfamiliar. Her eyes were tired. "It's a new era. Men liking men, cheating in marriage—nothing new. I can't completely ruin your reputation; that's the truth."
There was no emotion in those clear eyes. Qian Jin watched as the woman clapped her hands as if brushing off dirt. "But if you keep pestering, don't expect to have a good time at the company," Qi Sui said. "You're planning to get promoted soon, right? Guess if a whistleblower letter can get you removed from the promotion list?"
Qian Jin's lips began to tremble. He wanted to say something, to regain his dignity in front of this woman as before, but when Qi Sui turned and left completely, a sob escaped his throat. Why was all this happening? No one could answer him.
Qi Sui walked straight out of the private room. She left that group behind. She went to the front desk and added ten bottles of Maotai to the room. As for the bill, what did it have to do with her?
A fine drizzle continued. Across the street, a young punk with dyed yellow hair was pinching a half-smoked cigarette, pressing it into a small puddle at his feet. A woman in a coffee-colored trench coat stood beside him waiting for the traffic light, arms crossed, and suddenly said: "Lend me a cigarette."
The punk looked at her and smiled: "Sister, do you know how to smoke?"
Qi Sui's answer was to take the cigarette pack from his hand, pull one out, deftly light it, and use her left hand to shield the tip from the drizzle. The smoke drifted away with the slant of the rain. The punk looked back, sneaking a glance at this cold, pale woman. Her pinkish-white lips held a coarse cigarette, her fingers thin, eyes half-closed, inhaling awkwardly. A section of her pale finger was visible, a long, dark red wound across it, fierce and conspicuous. Half her face was covered by a scarf, unclear, but the thin, almost transparent jawline was enough to make an adolescent boy fantasize.
She only took one puff, then pinched out the cigarette, stubbed it out in the puddle, picked it up, and threw it in the trash. "Thanks."
She went to the nearby supermarket, bought a bag of soda, and tossed it to the yellow-haired punk. As the green light came on, she walked forward. As she walked, she pulled out her phone from her coat pocket, clicked on the blue background cat avatar, took a deep breath, and hit voice call.
After the waiting tone, a familiar male voice answered: "Hello."
Qi Sui inhaled. "Hello, Xiang Yu."
Then—she swore—she used the loudest volume of her life, on the deserted, cold street: "You are such a fucking hypocrite!"
---
Author's Note: I'm dying of laughter.
LEO be like: Huh?? Me??
Estimation failed. It seems the iconic scene from the blurb will be in the next chapter (sad).
(I wanted to send red envelopes to the baby teachers, but after recharging just now, I found I can only send to 15 people... Oh dear, who's that enough for? So I'll wait until the clip day ends; with a bit more collected, I can send more [melting])