Wu Fu had not expected to find a male stranger in Cen Jin’s house. Not wanting to display his surprise too openly, he quickly composed himself and inquired about the young man’s identity. The youth looked somewhat familiar and recognized him, as evident from his gaze. However, even when he introduced himself as “Li Wu,” Wu Fu couldn’t contain his deeper, more complex astonishment. Had Cen Jin taken this child in?

At that moment, his wife felt like a stranger to him.

Various suspicions swirled in Wu Fu’s mind as he decided to ask, “How did you end up here?”

Though his manner was calm and refined, the young man’s eyes were unfriendly: “Ms. Cen helped me transfer to Yi Middle School.”

Wu Fu frowned slightly. “You’re living together now?”

“I stay in the school dormitory. What business do you have with her?”

The youth’s words were frank, but his attitude was already that of the house’s master. Wu Fu noticed his slippers, which carried the obvious air of a cuckoo in another bird’s nest. “Cen Jin left something at my place. I brought it over, but I couldn’t reach her. I was worried something might have happened, so I came directly.”

Wu Fu regretted his words immediately – he didn’t need to explain anything to this boy.

“Is she home?” he asked again.

“No,” Li Wu stood in the doorframe, his eyes sharp, his height naturally creating an imposing pressure of one guarding a pass. “She went out.”

Wu Fu had to reassess him: “Do you know where she went?”

“No.”

Wu Fu secretly let out a breath – their relationship didn’t seem as close as he had imagined. He handed over the plain white shopping bag: “Give this to her for me.”

Li Wu responded with an “okay” and took it.

“You seem to have grown quite a bit taller,” Wu Fu casually adjusted his collar, making final small talk. “Back then you weren’t as tall as Cen Jin.”

Li Wu stared at him for two seconds, his lips curving slightly: “Now I’m taller than you.”

His smile carried no warmth, yet was somehow unsettling. This kind of straightforward hostility and rejection could only be displayed so openly by boys his age – after reaching adulthood, they would gradually learn to wear masks of worldliness. Wu Fu also smiled faintly: “Are you resenting me for not helping you?”

Li Wu put one hand back in his hoodie pocket: “No.”

Those two words sounded like a sulk. Wu Fu made an impromptu decision to exchange a few more words with him.

“I want to say that we had no obligation,” he deliberately used “we” to create distance. “Cen Jin is a good person, she’s rather idealistic, but idealism needs prerequisites.”

Li Wu remained silent.

“She sees you as someone she must take responsibility for, but not everyone has to follow this kind of idealistic poverty relief. People’s subjective wishes and objective conditions can’t always align…”

Wu Fu stopped his lecture because he read unrestrained possessiveness and aggression in the boy’s eyes. This gaze made him feel like he had a fishbone stuck in his throat. It was too strange – he had only come to deliver something, yet had unwittingly stepped into a declaration of war that only males could comprehend.

The boy didn’t care how he was characterized or described, or what treatment he had endured.

His antipathy seemed to stem from only one source.

Wu Fu sensed this irregularity.

But precisely because the youth did not attempt to hide it, Wu Fu was even more reluctant to expose it openly.

He knew that the moment he spoke of it, he would be at a disadvantage in this battle.

Cen Jin’s matters were completely irrelevant to him now. He only wished to extract himself as soon as possible, avoiding any unnecessary entanglement.

But this didn’t prevent him from finding it absurd. He laughed shortly and asked, “How old are you?”

Li Wu said, “Seventeen.”

Just as he was about to ask a couple more questions, his phone suddenly rang in his pocket. Wu Fu took it out, glanced at the name, and answered: “Hello.”

He looked back into the youth’s eyes, expressionless: “Yes, I’m at your place. I gave the things to Li Wu. Where are you? Okay, I’ll be there shortly.”

Hanging up and putting the phone back in his pocket, Wu Fu asked, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell her?”

Li Wu asked, “Tell her what?”

Wu Fu said, “You know what.”

“I am afraid,” the youth replied without hesitation. “But I wanted you to know.”

Wu Fu gave a knowing smile – he clearly wouldn’t provide such a shortcut.

—

Around four o’clock, Cen Jin was waiting for Wu Fu at the Starbucks on Qingping Road.

The man wore a trench coat without glasses, looking somewhat younger, almost overlapping with his college-day self.

But he wasn’t the only one returning to old times – Cen Jin too had dressed up for the appointment, her crimson skirt flowing from the chair seat like large flower petals.

They didn’t look like a couple about to separate, more like lovers on their first date.

Their eyes met, Wu Fu slightly stunned, while Cen Jin just curved her lips in a smile: “I didn’t order anything for you.”

She then explained her unexpected absence: “I just submitted some materials at the new company, and left my phone in the car.”

“It’s fine,” Wu Fu sat down, pulling out two sets of documents from his briefcase, getting straight to the point: “Please check these again.”

Cen Jin took one set and began casually reviewing it.

The paper was cold, filled with emotionless words and numbers.

She read with particular attention. Wu Fu went to the counter to order, and upon returning, he took out a fountain pen from his bag, playing with it between his fingers, occasionally looking at the pen, then at her.

Soon after, Cen Jin laid the agreement flat on the table, pressing down the last page with her inner wrist: “I’ve finished reading, there are no issues.”

Her finger tapped the bottom right corner of the final page: “I sign here, right?”

“Yes.” Wu Fu handed over the fountain pen.

Cen Jin glanced up at him: “What about you?”

Wu Fu said: “You first.”

Cen Jin removed the pen cap without hesitation, writing her full name after the characters for “Female Party.”

She looked back at Wu Fu: “Do I need to leave a fingerprint?”

“Yes.” Wu Fu took out an ink pad.

Cen Jin raised her lips: “You came very prepared.”

“Just habit.” Cen Jin was always forgetting things, checking for oversights had become his specialty.

Cen Jin fell silent, pressing her red thumbprint over her name.

Wu Fu followed the same steps.

For the second copy, they did the same.

Each holding one copy, legal effect was established – from now on they would be separated, no longer husband and wife.

At this moment, the barista called out “Mr. Wu,” and Wu Fu stood to retrieve his drink.

As soon as the man’s clothes fluttered away from the table corner, Cen Jin pressed her lips tightly, her eyes rapidly reddening.

She looked slightly upward, forcefully swallowing her tears, returning her expression to normal before his return.

Wu Fu sat down, took a sip of coffee, put his copy of the agreement back in his bag, and then looked at Cen Jin: “Cen Jin, you look beautiful today.”

“Thank you,” the woman’s voice carried no emotion. “I look beautiful every day.”

Wu Fu started laughing: “Now without the husband filter.”

“I thought you lost that long ago.”

Wu Fu smiled and lowered his eyes, saying nothing more.

He brought up something else: “When did you bring that kid to Yi City?”

Cen Jin said: “The day he called asking for help.”

Wu Fu showed understanding, “No wonder.”

“No wonder what?”

“Nothing,” Wu Fu stopped there, asking about her work: “I heard you’re going to Ao Xing?”

Cen Jin leaned back in her chair: “Mm.”

“Why not work for a client-side company?”

“Rather than bullying others, I prefer competition,” she crossed her arms, a hint of arrogance showing through her casual demeanor. “Looking forward to meeting you on the battlefield.”

Wu Fu smiled, and raised his coffee cup in a toast: “Me too.”

—

Walking out of the store with Wu Fu, Cen Jin’s feet suddenly felt unsteady. She felt dizzy as if she might faint at any moment. This sensation was indescribable – she didn’t know if it was relief or exhaustion.

She held onto a railing by the road, staring fixedly at the billboard across the street.

Wu Fu took out a cigarette, glancing at her. The woman stood in the cold wind like a frost-defying rose. He quickly put the cigarette in his mouth, freeing his hands to remove his trench coat.

He asked indistinctly, “Are you cold?”

“No need,” Cen Jin raised her hand in direct refusal. “I’m not cold.”

Wu Fu shrugged, pulling his half-removed sleeve back on, and took out his lighter to light the cigarette, his eyes never leaving her pale face.

Cen Jin’s nostrils twitched slightly: “When did you start smoking?”

White smoke curled up as Wu Fu took the cigarette away: “If I said it was after we lost our first child, would you believe me?”

Cen Jin stared at him for two seconds: “I would.”

“It’s not much, just one a day.” Noticing her slightly furrowed brow, he immediately extinguished the cigarette and threw it into the trash bin beside his leg: “Back then, my emotions weren’t any better than yours. It was partly because of the child, but more because of you.”

Cen Jin’s lips quivered weakly and rapidly twice, completely avoiding his gaze: “As you said, there’s no point talking about this now.”

“There isn’t,” Wu Fu looked toward the endless stream of traffic: “How did you get here?”

“Drove.”

“Alright, I’m leaving first. See you Monday.”

—

Cen Jin had no idea how she drove home. The world seemed drenched in torrential rain. She neurotically turned on the wipers, but they had no effect at all.

Not caring who else was home, she changed into slippers and shut herself in her room with tear-filled eyes, crying her heart out in the darkness.

Buried in her blanket, memories raced through her mind like a lantern show.

Wu Fu was bringing steaming breakfast to her dorm early in the morning, the fireworks they saw together in Japan, the pure white bouquet thrown at their wedding, and when their first prenatal check-up results came out, how he lifted her high in his arms as if she were his child… and finally, the divorce papers placed before her.

She suddenly remembered his words that day, “Cen Jin, I think we might not be suitable to continue living together. We can no longer provide any positive emotional value to each other. Continuing this marriage would only be exhausting and torturous for both of us. Although it’s hard to let go, a quick pain is better than a prolonged one. Let’s separate.”

…

Around eight o’clock, Cen Jin finally composed herself, washed her face, and walked out of the bedroom.

Outside was pitch black, only a line of light showed through the study door’s gap.

Cen Jin’s head was splitting with pain, her temple throbbing incessantly, but she forced herself to walk there.

She didn’t bother knocking, directly turned the handle and opened it, then positioned half her face within the occupant’s view: “Have you eaten?”

The youth raised his face from behind the desk, just staring at her through the door gap, silent for a long while.

“I asked if you’ve eaten?” Her tone grew urgent.

He finally came to: “Not yet.”

“Not hungry?”

“Not hungry.”

Cen Jin rubbed her nose with her sleeve, her slightly nasal voice sounding wilted: “I’m hungry, I want to eat.”

Li Wu immediately stood up: “There’s still lunch leftovers, I’ll go heat them.”

He walked to her, his tall, thin frame suddenly blocking most of the light from the room. Cen Jin’s limited field of vision darkened further.

She didn’t move, so he couldn’t walk out, forced to just stand there.

“Why do you always keep the lights off?” the woman asked randomly.

Li Wu said: “To save electricity.”

“Am I making you pay for it?”

“…”

“Turn them on.”

Li Wu’s heart skipped a beat, nervously reached for the switch, intending to turn on the corner spotlights in the study, but accidentally hit the wrong switch, turning off the ceiling light as well.

Darkness suddenly engulfed the entire room.

All senses instantly became heightened.

The woman’s faint breathing became extraordinarily clear, as if very close. Li Wu’s heartbeat completely lost its rhythm. His Adam’s apple bobbed once as he frantically pressed every protrusion on the wall.

Click, click, click, click.

Intense light took over, wrapping them both back in daylight.

The youth’s breathing was like after a long-distance run, so rapid he couldn’t understand it himself.

“Sor-sorry…” Li Wu lowered his head, saw the woman’s tear-filled eyes, and couldn’t utter another word.

His heart was gripped tight, unable to squeeze out any sound.

She seemed to no longer care about maintaining dignity, just lowered her head, let out a long sigh, made way for him, and then turned to leave.

Li Wu followed step by step, helping her turn on all the lights along the way.

All the beautiful corners of the house gradually appeared.

Cen Jin walked straight to the dining table and sat down. She looked up at the youth standing at the same table, her eyes now dry but somewhat swollen:

“Go heat the food.”

“Today it’s your turn to take care of me.”

—

Li Wu froze, his mind scalded by these words, suddenly burning hot.

He turned and walked to the counter, putting the takeout boxes one by one into the microwave.

The kitchen was quite stuffy, with only the occasional “ding” of the microwave’s completion signal, and no human voices.

After heating the rice, Li Wu faced the cabinet full of tableware and became worried. Cen Jin loved collecting vessels, with bowls and plates of various styles and forms.

Finally, he chose a white glazed pottery bowl, filled it, and brought it to the table.

Cen Jin had used this one at lunch, so it should be right.

Li Wu handed her the chopsticks, and the woman immediately lowered her head to eat.

Li Wu started to speak: “The dishes…” …haven’t been served.

But seeing her eating so intently, Li Wu said no more, turning back to bring the dishes over one by one.

After setting everything out, Li Wu sat down across from her, slowly eating his food while stealing glances at her movements.

Cen Jin began picking up dishes, taking a large mouthful of rice with each bite of food. He had never seen her eat with such relish, such initiative, as if her appetite had been unblocked.

She lifted the bowl high, scraping up even the last grain of rice before putting it down.

The woman sat in place, breathing deeply in and out – her eyes slowly regaining spirit. She faced Li Wu: “Where’s the thing Wu Fu brought?”

Li Wu turned his face toward the living room: “On the tea table.”

Cen Jin didn’t immediately go to check: “Did he come in?”

Li Wu said: “No.”

Her eyes flickered: “You opened the door for him?”

Li Wu paused slightly, his voice muffled: “He has fingerprint access.”

Cen Jin froze for a moment, belatedly stood up, grabbed her phone, and walked to the entrance. She stopped behind the door, following the prompts to operate, quickly deleting Wu Fu’s fingerprint record.

After finishing, she turned around, about to return to the dining table when her gaze suddenly stopped on that profile in the dining room. The boy sat with proper posture, lowered lashes, straight nose bridge, eating as docilely as ever.

She watched him for a while, her heart strangely peaceful. She called out: “Li Wu.”

The youth turned back.

Cen Jin pointed at the door: “Come register your fingerprint after eating.”

“Oh…” the youth’s response became floating and slow, but his eating movements grew faster. He continued burying his head in his rice, chopsticks clicking against the bowl rapidly, as if afraid someone would snatch it away.