The next morning, when Xu Lize came downstairs, Su Yang was already at work in the kitchen, just like she always was.
When he lived alone, he never cared what the housekeeper was cooking. But now that the one bustling around the pots and pans was Su Yang, he found himself glancing twice as he passed by.
She looked up and greeted him, “Is soy milk, fried dough sticks, and scallion pancakes okay for breakfast?”
He nodded, and before he left for his morning run he turned back to make sure she remembered, “Don’t forget—you’re meeting someone later, right?”
She nodded quickly. She still felt the sting of having fibbed to the old housekeeper the night before and was nervous that he might expose her the way he had the night at the sushi place.
Xu Lize caught the tiny flicker of anxiety on her face and, unusually merciful, said nothing further. He walked out.
He had a half-day free—there was a property notarization at the lawyer’s in the morning and then they would go to the marriage registration office—so he had told Zhao Rui to come by the villa at noon to pick him up. On his run he took an extra lap around the park, stretching time in a way that didn’t feel empty.
When he returned the housekeeper was gone. The house felt quieter for it. Su Yang sat on a bar stool by the sink, staring into space, her phone never far from her hand.
During breakfast he noticed her attention kept snapping back to the screen. Her eyes and fingers hovered over it like a person waiting for a verdict. He didn’t pry; she didn’t volunteer. A quiet contest of patience passed between them, one neither willing to lose.
At 9:40 they arrived at the marriage registration office on Fenglin Road. The waiting hall was full of other couples—newlyweds and soon-to-be newlyweds—beaming at each other in that fresh, contented way that makes everything in the room glow.
Seeing them, Su Yang couldn’t help the small, sharp tug of disappointment. The reason they were here—to trade a single word, “married,” for her mother’s life—sat heavy in her chest, but there was no regret. If she had to, she would do it all again.
Her phone buzzed. She instinctively reached for it, thinking it might be something about the campus forum, but the screen flashed with Su Qian’s name. She frowned and, with a sideways glance at Xu Lize, rejected the call.
Seconds later came a message, arrogant and taunting: If you don’t want to regret it, pick up.
Su Yang hesitated, about to slip away to a quiet corner to handle it, when she noticed Xu Lize looking at her. “We’re about to be called for photos. Where are you going?” he asked.
She froze, stuck between leaving and staying. At that moment the call came again. Before she could answer, Xu Lize reached over and took the phone from her.
He was surprised to see Su Qian’s name. “She’s been calling and harassing you?”
“Not nonstop…” Su Yang tried to be honest.
He pressed the lock button without thinking. “Don’t answer. I’ll handle it.”
He thought the matter was settled—he’d made his warning, things had been quiet on Su Quansheng’s side, he’d assumed Su Qian’s threats wouldn’t escalate. He was wrong.
Then a sharp shout cut through the hall.
They turned. Su Qian had arrived.
She was a peacock made human: oversized dark sunglasses, a Chanel-like tweed set, sky-high stilettos clicking like a metronome as she strode straight to where Su Yang and Xu Lize sat. Heads turned—those curious, amused looks people give when a scene promises entertainment—and the attention only fed her.
“Su Yang, you’re something else,” she announced, removing her glasses with a flourish. She produced a brown paper bag from her bag and hurled it into Xu Lize’s lap. “Mr. Xu, have a look. See how your fiancée’s been cozying up to professors before she tried to steal her own sister’s husband?”
Her voice was loud and deliberate, every syllable meant to sting. “I told you—like mother, like daughter. Your mother was what she was; look at you. Throwing yourself at teachers—have you no shame?”
Su Yang’s face went still. Without waiting for Xu Lize to react, she reached for the bag and pulled out printed photographs—photos that had already been posted on the campus forum, blown up and arranged so the details couldn’t be missed.
“Where did you get these?” she asked, the steady edge in her voice turning her eyes sharp.
Su Qian laughed, smug and nasty. “What a coincidence. I have a friend at A University. She saw the forum posts and sent them to me. Some things only stay secret if you don’t do them. You climbed into a teacher’s bed for thrills—so how can you expect to have your hands on both the bowl and the pot?”
She snatched the photos from Su Yang’s hand and flipped them at Xu Lize. “Mr. Xu, look. The woman you’re about to register with—how loose she is! She’ll sleep with a teacher and still act like nothing’s wrong—do you want to marry that?”
A hush spread through the hall. Murmurs began like a tide.
“Su Qian, you should be careful about what you say,” someone murmured nearby. But Su Qian didn’t care; she was feeding the crowd.
Then, calmly and unexpectedly, Su Yang lifted her phone. “If you’re going to say things like that,” she said, holding the screen out, “you’d better be prepared to be held responsible.”
Su Qian glanced at the phone and saw the screen recording. Her hand darted forward to grab it, but Su Yang stepped back. In her heels, and with her momentum, Su Qian missed and nearly slipped on the polished floor.
“You’re defaming me,” Su Yang said levelly, keeping the camera on Su Qian’s flustered face. “Those forum posts are fabrications. My lawyer and I have already found evidence and are preparing suit.”
She didn’t raise her voice. That made her words colder, more precise. “By holding up these doctored photos and trying to bully me here, you’ve made yourself an accomplice to that defamation. Do you know what that could cost you? Criminal charges, even jail time if the court finds intent.”
The hall went completely quiet. Su Qian’s composure faltered; the color drained from her face. For the first time since she’d entered, she hesitated.
Xu Lize, who had been stunned into silence, finally spoke, his tone even. He folded the photos and looked at Su Qian as if seeing her for the first time. The smugness drained from her like water from a glass. Around them, the once-anticipatory crowd shifted, their eyes now measuring and doubtful.
Su Yang kept recording. She didn’t need to shout to make her point. The law was a weight she could set on the other woman’s chest, and she was not afraid to drop it.