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Chapter Five

That evening, when Fang Mingyu returned from her business trip, Fang Shiqing gave her a call to greet her.

“You calling me now really shows no sincerity,” his sister scolded lightly over the phone. “Why didn’t you come pick me up at the airport this afternoon?”

Fang Shiqing, of course, knew she wasn’t serious. He asked, “Didn’t your work unit send a car for Judge Fang? And what about brother‑in‑law? He didn’t go pick you up?”

Fang Mingyu said, “After the government cracked down on misuse of official cars, how could there still be one casually sent just for me? Your brother‑in‑law was busy. I just took a cab home… Qingqing, he’s asking you now, our busy man.”

That last part was clearly said for Wang Qi, who was beside her.

Fang Shiqing teased, “I knew it. Now that you’re back, you two can have your couple’s time together. A little separation makes it like a newlywed honeymoon again. I get it.”

Fang Mingyu laughed twice. “Get what? You don’t get anything. Oh right, I nearly forgot—remember that thing I mentioned last time? In the next couple of days, I’ll arrange a time for you to meet that girl.”

Fang Shiqing’s head throbbed instantly. He mumbled vaguely, “I’m really busy these days…”

Through the receiver came Wang Qi’s voice from a little farther away: “Didn’t Qingqing just say yesterday that he wanted to treat the two of us to dinner?”

Fang Mingyu brightened. “Really? Perfect. Tomorrow evening I should be free. What about you?”

Wang Qi: “I’m free too.”

Fang Mingyu continued to her brother, “Then let’s set it for tomorrow night. How about hotpot?”

Fang Shiqing was speechless. Yesterday he had only casually said that to Wang Qi; he hadn’t meant it at all. He tried to wriggle out of the family dinner: “Tomorrow night I might…”

But Fang Mingyu cut him off. “Don’t give me that. Around the middle of the month you’re always idle and restless. What, got plans to go drinking or fool around? Nothing proper anyway. Just push it back. Tomorrow night, behave yourself and come eat hotpot with me.”

Fang Shiqing had no choice but to agree.

After chatting a little longer, Fang Mingyu hung up at the perfect timing and got up to peel the face mask off her skin.

“ Mingyu,” Wang Qi said suddenly, “I want to talk to you about something.”

“What is it? Wait until I wash my face.”

Wang Qi didn’t say more, but the look in his eyes was oddly strange.

Caught by his gaze, Fang Mingyu froze for a few seconds before turning into the bathroom. She tossed the used mask into the trash, bent over the sink, and turned on the faucet. The moment her hands touched the water, something seemed to hit her—her face instantly paled.

A moment later, she lowered her head to slowly wash her face, then carefully applied her skincare, released her long curled hair from the headband, brushed it neatly, and studied herself in the mirror. Only then did she walk back out.

Wang Qi was sitting on the sofa, watching the news, expression calm.

She walked slowly over, sat on the other sofa beside him, and turned her face toward the TV as well.

Between the couple, an unusual atmosphere hung in the silence.

Wang Qi’s gaze shifted from the screen to Fang Mingyu. She still kept her face toward the TV, though the faint flare of her nostrils betrayed her shaken emotions.

Wang Qi opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Fang Mingyu seemed to rush ahead: “Do you want a divorce?”

She finally turned to him, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears.

Wang Qi frowned slightly, pulled a tissue box from the coffee table, and quietly answered, “Yes.”

Fang Mingyu ignored the tissues he offered. Tears spilled, yet she showed no weakness. Calmly she asked, “Why now?”

Wang Qi set the tissues down, leaned back against the sofa, and—after an awkward little gesture of touching his own face and a fake cough—said, “A few days ago, I slept with someone else… and I realized I really like him.”

Fang Mingyu couldn’t hide her shock. “…Is it someone I know?”

But Wang Qi clearly didn’t want to elaborate. He said simply, “We agreed before: if something like this ever happened, I wouldn’t keep our old arrangement. As for the marital assets—take whatever you want. They can all go to you.”

Though her tears hadn’t dried, the deep reluctance in her heart was swept away by his resolute stance. Proud as always, she instinctively put on a businesslike face. “The assets will be divided according to the rules. I won’t take advantage of you… After all, the main problem lies with me.”

“Do whatever you want.” Wang Qi looked at her, then added, “I’m not saying we need to file immediately. Take your time.”

Fang Mingyu couldn’t help but retort bitterly, “And you say you’re not in a hurry? Sounds like you wish the divorce office would work overtime tonight to process your papers.”

Wang Qi thought a moment. “That’s not it. Tomorrow would be fine.”

Fang Mingyu’s mouth twitched—half a laugh, half not. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “Give me some time… Until then, I don’t want anyone to know about this, especially my family.”

Wang Qi nodded. “That’s fine.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she asked again, sounding casual: “That woman… is it someone I know?”

Wang Qi glanced at her, turned off the TV, and stood. “We’ll talk about that another time… I’ve got something to do, need to go out. Go to bed early.”

After he left, Fang Mingyu sat in the living room for a long while before heading to the bedroom. On the wall above the bed hung a giant wedding photo of her and Wang Qi—smiling sweetly, the picture of a perfect match.

Only they themselves knew: the photo still hung there merely for show to visiting guests.

The wardrobe held only Fang Mingyu’s clothes. The double bed had one side empty every night.

This so‑called model couple in the eyes of others—married for eight years and two months—had actually been living apart for eight years.

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The next afternoon, Fang Shiqing got a call from his sister: work matters had come up, so she couldn’t make it to the hotpot dinner.

After hanging up, Shiqing, who had been listless all day, suddenly felt revived—planning instead to hit a bar that night.

Sitting together with Wang Qi always made him uncomfortable. Besides, he was someone who couldn’t live without spicy food; eating lamb in bland broth was no different than chewing paper.

What? Why couldn’t he eat from the spicy red pot? Are you stupid?

After work, he left with two colleagues, listening to them chat excitedly about a new music bar—great singers, nice atmosphere, classy clientele. Tempted, he was just thinking he’d check it out that evening when one colleague pointed ahead: “Chief, someone’s waiting for you, right?”

Looking in that direction, Shiqing saw an Audi A8 parked at the curb, and standing beside it was none other than his brother‑in‑law, Wang Qi.

The colleague, face full of gossip, asked, “Who’s that? He’s pretty handsome. Just… that car is kinda tacky.”

Shiqing understood what he meant. Forcing a laugh, he said, “That’s my brother‑in‑law. My actual brother‑in‑law.”

Colleague: “…Oh. Well, see you then.”

After parting ways, Shiqing walked over, puzzled. “Brother‑in‑law, why are you here?”

Wang Qi said, “Weren’t we going to have dinner tonight? I got off work early, so I came to pick you up.”

Shiqing was surprised. “Didn’t my sister tell you? She can’t make it.”

“She did. So it’s just you and me.” Wang Qi opened the passenger door, gesturing for him to get in.

Shiqing didn’t move. He had absolutely no desire to go.

Wang Qi shut the Audi’s door, then said, “Fine, take your car. You fashion people really are picky.”

Hearing that, Shiqing realized Wang Qi must’ve overheard his colleague’s comment about the A8 being tacky. Not wanting to admit he just didn’t want to eat with him, Shiqing said nothing and went to fetch his own car.

Besides, the A8 really was tacky.

He had resigned himself to enduring a paper‑tasting hotpot meal. But instead, following behind the A8, he saw Wang Qi drive to a French restaurant.

Better than hotpot, sure—but that only made things more awkward. Eating French cuisine with his brother‑in‑law? He’d rather eat paper.

The waiter greeted them politely: “Good evening, sir, miss—ah, sorry, two gentlemen.”

That evening Shiqing wore a wide bohemian scarf with his hair tied up in a bun. His pale skin and narrower shoulders compared to Wang Qi’s made the waiter mistake him at first glance. Only when the “lady” walked closer and the height didn’t match did the waiter correct himself.

“Miss” Fang stood there with a sulky face, while Wang Qi said to the waiter, “We booked this afternoon, two seats by the window.”

During the ordering and serving of dishes, neither said much.

Shiqing didn’t know what to say. Wang Qi was never talkative; back when Shiqing used to trail after the couple all the time, conversation was always between him and his sister, with Wang Qi occasionally chiming in.

He was used to Wang Qi’s silence. But tonight—whether from not being alone together like this in so long, or some other reason—something felt off.

Specifically, Shiqing kept feeling like Wang Qi was sneaking glances at him.

Before long, Shiqing felt like he was sitting on pins and needles.

He didn’t know what Wang Qi was up to. Had Mingyu discovered something and sent Wang Qi to test him?

The more he thought, the stranger Wang Qi’s look seemed—mysterious, faintly smiling, unfathomable. Shiqing’s back went cold, and even his hand shook slightly holding his utensils.

At long last, dinner ended. Shiqing immediately found an excuse to say goodbye, then bolted—without a single glance back.