Chapter 1

“Don’t worry. Even if we divorce, I won’t let you walk away with nothing.”

“I remember clearly—it was you who took care of my father during his final years. After he passed, you ran the household, raised Yangyang well. Now that he’s back and helping at the company, it’s all thanks to your efforts.”

“Ji Li, everything you’ve done for the Zhou family will never be forgotten.”

“But these past years, you and I have been husband and wife in name only. Emotionally, I owe you, but materially, I never have.”

“At our age, what is there we can’t let go of?”

“Take a good look at the divorce agreement. What I’ve given you is more than enough. It’s enough to enjoy a carefree life for two lifetimes.”

“Sign it. Take it all. Go enjoy the rest of your years in peace.”

Enjoy the rest of her years?

Ji Li lowered her gaze to the black-and-white divorce agreement on the table. Bitterness filled her mouth, but her face remained expressionless.

She was fifty-nine. Her youth long gone.

And she was in the late stages of breast cancer.

What “rest of her life” was there left to enjoy?

She had been married into the Zhou family for nearly forty years.

She and Zhou Hong had been husband and wife in name only for almost four decades. He had been busy building his empire, socializing, rarely coming home. Meanwhile, Ji Li managed the household and raised their son.

They each fulfilled their roles, never interfering in each other’s lives.

She had wanted a divorce when she was younger and had tried many times to bring it up.

But Zhou Hong always refused, insisting it was for the child’s sake, promising he would make it up to her.

Funny—because that child wasn’t even her own. And the jewels and money he promised? She never used them.

She was timid and inexperienced with the outside world. She poured all her energy into raising Zhou Yang, until she couldn’t bear to let go anymore.

In the end, for her son’s sake, she lost even the courage to leave Zhou Hong.

Now, she looked at the son she had raised. She wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Yangyang, do you also want me to sign it?”

Zhou Yang sat beside his father, tall, dignified, with an impressive presence.

In middle age, he still looked like a man in his early thirties.

An elite graduate of a prestigious foreign business school, heir to Zhou Hong, the richest man in City A. He was the new CEO of a publicly listed company, admired by everyone.

He was Ji Li’s pride—raised with her blood, sweat, and love.

Yet now, facing the mother who had sacrificed everything for him, his voice was cold and detached:

“Mom, you’ve worried yourself sick all these years. Look at you—you look so much older than others your age. It’s time you rest.”

“You and Dad never had a real relationship. Just sign it. It’ll be a relief for both of you.”

“I’ll personally escort you to England. Take a break. Relax.”

“Don’t worry. Whenever I have time, I’ll visit you.”

Ji Li’s throat was dry. She took a shallow breath to swallow down the sting in her eyes.

Ever since Zhou Yang returned a few years ago, he had grown distant, too focused on the company.

She didn’t even tell him she had late-stage cancer—for fear he’d worry.

“Zhou Yang, your father and I may not have had love, but I stayed all my life. For whom?”

“Do you remember when you were in school? Every time I mentioned divorce, you’d cry and cling to my legs, begging me not to leave you?”

A flash of guilt and awkwardness crossed Zhou Yang’s face.

He licked his lips and softened his tone:

“Mom, why bring up the past? I was just a kid—I didn’t understand what you were going through.”

“Now I’m a father myself, and I know how hard life was for you. That’s why I want you to sign—so you can finally be free…”

“My pain lasted nearly forty years. My whole life. I’m already numb.”

Ji Li turned her murky eyes toward the silent Zhou Hong.
“What? After living your best life for decades, you’re only now feeling the burden of having me as your wife?”

Zhou Hong, ten years older than Ji Li, was now nearing seventy. Though aging, he still held the air of a powerful man—wealthy, commanding, untouchable.

In contrast, Ji Li was haggard, frail, her face worn like an old husk drained of life.

She sneered bitterly.
“Ah, so you’ve finally convinced your son. He no longer needs me. I’m worthless to the both of you now, so I should just take your charity and quietly disappear, right?”

Zhou Hong frowned.
“Ji Li! Don’t make this sound so ugly. I’ve never mistreated you! What do you mean ‘worthless’ or ‘charity’?!”

Tears welled in Ji Li’s eyes. She had endured her whole life, but she didn’t want to endure anymore.

Suddenly, she stood, grabbed the divorce papers, and flung them at Zhou Hong’s face.

“You lied to me for a lifetime! You shackled me to this marriage! You drained my entire life—and now you say you never mistreated me?!”
“I’m practically buried in the ground already, and only now you want to kick me out? Dream on!”

Zhou Hong’s face darkened like coal, fury surging through his eyes. He looked terrifying.

Zhou Yang stood up, panicked.
“Mom! Calm down—sit down and let’s talk…”

‘SLAP!’

Ji Li slapped him across the face, her voice sharp and furious:

“There’s nothing to talk about with a pair of heartless bastards like you two!”

Zhou Yang stood in stunned silence, his face red from the slap, staring in disbelief at Ji Li.

She had always been strict, but also loving. This was the first time in his life she’d ever hit him.

“Ji Li!” Zhou Hong roared, slamming his palm on the table and rising.

Ji Li’s hand trembled violently. Her cloudy eyes reddened with fury and despair.
She pointed directly at Zhou Yang.

“Your father’s a heartless bastard—I can ignore that. He’s had mistresses and illegitimate children for years, I didn’t care!”
“But he chained me to this marriage for your sake. I sacrificed everything for you!”

“Zhou Yang! They say children care for their parents in old age—this is how you repay me? How honorable of you!”

“Mom…”

“Don’t call me that!”
“When your father brought you home, he told everyone you were an orphan—his friend’s son. I took care of you and Grandpa at the same time. But as you grew up looking more and more like him, the truth came out—you were his biological son.”

“He brought you home just two months after we got married. He married me just to find someone to raise his child.”

“He lied to me from the beginning—and lied to everyone, saying your real mother was dead. He made me keep raising you!”

“You called me ‘Mom.’ I treated you like my own—I gave you everything!”

“And now you want me out of the house just because your real mom’s still alive? That old woman in her seventies still dares destroy our family?!”

She glared at Zhou Hong, venomous:
“Zhou Hong, you shameless old man. If you want to be buried with someone, wait till I’m dead! Until then, I’m the only matriarch of this house!”

With those words, Ji Li stormed out of the mansion, furious and breathless.

“Mom! Mom, where are you going? Come back!”

“Let her go! Isn’t she always saying she’s dying? Let her die out there then!”

Ji Li had been a housewife all her life. Her son was her entire world.

Zhou Hong was wealthy and often claimed he’d “make it up to her” with gifts and money. But she never indulged—for fear of spoiling Zhou Yang.

For thirty-nine years, she was trapped in Zhou Hong’s cage, a mere accessory to her son. Pitiful and pathetic.

She had no friends. No life of her own.

And now, that very son, the one she lived for, was siding with his biological mother and sister—and telling her to get out.

Ji Li stumbled out of the villa, caught a cab.

The driver asked, “Where to, ma’am?”

In a daze, she murmured:
“Northern Suburb Cemetery.”

She had no money. She took off the only gold ring on her finger and handed it to the driver.

It was a gift from Zhou Yang—bought with his first paycheck in college. A birthday present she’d treasured ever since.

She had never taken it off.
Until now.

Rain poured heavily. The cemetery was bleak and empty.

Ji Li knelt before a brand-new tombstone, gently brushing the photo, tears falling like rain.

The man in the picture looked no more than thirty—neatly groomed in military uniform, medals pinned across his chest, his dark eyes deep and warm.

She remembered their first meeting, a lifetime ago in the Zhou house.

He stood tall under the late-summer sun, stars on his uniform gleaming. He had smiled faintly:

“You’re four years older than me—should I still call you sister-in-law?”

“Comrade Ji Li, I’m Zhou Chi.”

She also remembered the last time she saw him—kneeling before her, eyes red with worry:

“Li Li, a child isn’t your whole world. He’s grown up. You need to let go. I hope you’ll change your mind before I return.”

But he never came back.

Thinking of the past, of everything she gave, everything she lost…

Ji Li broke down in front of his grave, sobbing in agony.

She had regretted everything—ever since the day Zhou Chi died.

But by then, it was too late.

The rain turned torrential. Ji Li, drenched and broken, staggered out of the cemetery, only to be met by Zhou Yang with an umbrella, waiting by the road.

She was pale, soaked, and ghostly. He was still neat in his tailored suit.

He wiped the rain from her face and spoke gently:

“Mom, how could I not care for you in your old age?”

“Dad needs a divorce to marry that woman—to get her shares. Once she dies, we can take over her company. Otherwise, she’ll leave everything to the child she had with her late husband.”

“Mom, do this for me…”

Ji Li closed her eyes.
“How long have you been waiting here?”

Zhou Yang hesitated.
“…I…”

“When was the last time you visited your uncle’s grave?”

Zhou Yang fell silent.

After a long pause, Ji Li spoke, voice heavy with disappointment:
“Drive.”

“Mom…”

“I said drive!”

Zhou Yang pressed his lips, annoyed, and started the engine, still trying to persuade her:

“You’ve been stuck in this dead marriage for nearly forty years—why care about a divorce now? Even Uncle would be happy for you if he knew.”

“Once you get the settlement, you can do whatever you want. If you want to find a younger man and remarry, I’ll support you!”

“Or if you can’t let go, once we get that company, I’ll ask Dad to remarry you. Okay?”

“Mom, think of me. Even if I work for thirty more years, I’ll never get a company like this handed to me…”

He still believed her rage was over Zhou Hong.
How ridiculous.

Zhou Hong meant nothing.

What truly broke her heart—was the son she raised with her entire life.

Ji Li felt cold to the bone, her head throbbing painfully.

The pounding rain on the car windows was like war drums in her mind, making her heart pound faster.

On a day like this, Zhou Yang should have focused on driving—but all he did was talk, talk, talk about himself.

He was just like his father—selfish, ruthless.

She had raised a heartless son…

A toxic thought crept in:
If she didn’t have long to live anyway, why not take him with her?

She had given her life to raise him—yet this was what she got.

Just as the thought passed, a loud rumble came from the mountain.

Zhou Yang screamed in shock and slammed the brakes.

Ji Li opened her eyes. The last thing she saw was a landslide crashing down, burying the car in total darkness.

Knock knock knock—

“Ma’am, are you awake?”

Ji Li jolted upright, chest heaving, eyes wide in panic.

Everything around her felt unfamiliar—yet oddly familiar.

Her head throbbed with sharp pain.

“Ma’am?”
A familiar but long-gone voice came from outside.

“…Coming.”

Ji Li steadied herself and walked to the old yellow wooden door.

She opened it.

“Aunt Zhou?”

It was Aunt Zhou—who had passed away years ago.

Ji Li’s eyes widened.

…What was happening?

The round-faced woman wrung her hands awkwardly.
“You don’t look well. Are you still feeling unwell? I didn’t mean to bother you, but… you said you wanted to make tomato beef noodles for Young Master Chi yourself. I just can’t get the taste right…”

Young Master Chi? Tomato beef noodles?

Ji Li’s heart pounded violently. Her ears buzzed.

“What day is it?” she asked hoarsely.

“September 7th!” Aunt Zhou quickly replied.
“You forgot? Old Master said yesterday that Young Master Chi would arrive today. The soldiers have already gone to pick him up…”

“September 7th… 1984?”

Aunt Zhou paused, eyeing her warily.

“…Yes. Ma’am, are you alright?”

Was she dreaming?

Ji Li stepped out into the narrow corridor, gazing down the stairs in a daze.

The old military compound house…

September 7, 1984.

She… had been reborn?