Cecilia Ye wiped away the tear hanging on her lashes, lowered her head, and left the bathroom.
She let out a long, shaky breath, curled up under the sheets, clutching her aching chest as hot tears splashed onto her pillow.
Abandoned at an orphanage as a child, Cecilia Ye was later adopted by a family.
That family had a son, three years older than her.
He wasn't very old, but his temperament was vicious—he hit and scolded Cecilia Ye in all sorts of ways. She once wondered if the family had adopted a girl just to give their twisted son someone to torment.
One night, after a particularly brutal beating, Cecilia Ye escaped and collapsed in front of Fu Zhiyé's car.
Fu Zhiyé got out, looked at this girl whose eyes were both fragile and stubborn, and something in his heart softened. He rescued her.
Back then, Cecilia Ye knew nothing of the world. She just thought this man, standing in the light, offering her his hand, could pull her out of her misery.
Later, Fu Zhiyé handed her a marriage contract.
He used her as a shield, blocking those who tried to worm their way into the Fu family.
She knew it was a loveless transaction. She knew this man had someone else he truly loved—his unreachable white moonlight.*
Still, Cecilia Ye lost herself, trapped in the cage named Fu Zhiyé.
The bathroom door opened with a click, and a damp figure walked out.
The drawer of the desk was pulled open, something placed inside with a quiet thud.
Fu Zhiyé's voice came from behind her. "Take this set of keys. I'll send you the address tomorrow. If you move out, stay there for now."
Cecilia Ye sniffled softly, pushing down her urge to cry. "Okay."
The man standing by the bed frowned, pulled back the covers, and lay down. His strong arm reached out to hold the petite girl in his arms.
He turned her over, lowering his head to meet her tear-filled, reddened eyes.
"Were you crying?" He raised an eyebrow, as if something had tugged at his heart.
"No, just tired."
Fu Zhiyé didn't expose her lie; instead, he gathered her into his arms, voice low: "Go to sleep."
In the darkness, Cecilia Ye reached out and hugged him tightly.
Just one last time, Cecilia Ye, this is the last time you'll hold him. Tomorrow, you must forget everything.
The next morning, golden sunlight spilled in through the window.
Cecilia Ye awoke to find her side of the bed empty.
She got up, washed, and began packing her belongings piece by piece into her suitcase.
In truth, nothing in this place was really hers; everything here had once been given to her by Fu Zhiyé.
The small suitcase was barely full. Cecilia Ye picked up the keys on the desk; the cold metal seemed to chill all the way to her heart.
At the door, she looked back one last time.
The bed was draped with her favorite pale blue sheets; the desk held a vase of wood hibiscus, her favorite flower.
And the one living here was the person she loved most.
Biting her lip, Cecilia Ye turned and left.
Zoey Zhang suddenly barreled toward her, whimpering at her feet as if sensing she was leaving.
Cecilia Ye bent down and picked up the little dog, her voice gentle: "Zoey Zhang, once I've settled in, I'll ask Zhiyé to bring you to me."
The puppy nuzzled obediently into her arms.
The servants gathered around. Everyone in the house liked Cecilia Ye—she'd always treated them kindly these past few years.
Cecilia Ye forced a smile. "Don't look so sad. I'm just moving; Zhiyé gave me a key, I can come back anytime."
Acting as if nothing had changed, she set Zoey Zhang down and declined the driver's offer to help, dragging her suitcase out of the Fu family's front gate alone.
The suitcase rumbled along the ground. This whole area belonged to the Fu family; there wasn't a car or pedestrian in sight.
After ten minutes, Cecilia Ye finally reached the main road. Seeing the busy traffic, she smiled a little—I've always managed alone. No matter what, life's already better than it was with that other family.
She crossed the intersection and made her way toward the address Fu Zhiyé had given her.
Since she hadn’t found a new place, staying in the Fu residence didn’t feel right. She’d live at the new place first, and move on once she sorted things out.
Behind her, an SUV turned into the street she'd just left.
After a few steps, Cecilia Ye suddenly stopped.
Damn, I forgot the photo under my pillow—the one of us on our marriage certificate.
On the day they registered, she’d secretly taken a picture of their certificate and had someone print it for her.
Cecilia Ye scolded herself for forgetting something so important. She spun around and hurried back to the Fu residence.
The SUV had just pulled up in the courtyard when Fu Zhiyé stepped out.
A woman in a pink dress followed him. She was fashionably beautiful: petite, pale-skinned, with delicate features and a small diamond-studded purse swinging from her hand. There was a hint of pride in her eyes.
Fu Zhiyé just walked on ahead. He'd only returned to pick up a file.
When he left work, he’d seen Vivian Belle waiting downstairs, so he brought her home with him.
"Zhiyé, I think this is my first time at your house. Your grandfather always disliked me before," Vivian Belle said softly, voice tinged with grievance. "I never knew what I did wrong. I just hope your family doesn't hold it against me anymore."
Fu Zhiyé's expression didn’t change. "It's all in the past. Don’t worry about it."
They entered the house. Fu Zhiyé went upstairs to get his file from the study.
"Zhiyé, can I look around?" Vivian Belle chimed sweetly.
"Suit yourself."
The study was at the end of the hall on the second floor. As he passed the bedroom, he noticed the door was ajar and couldn't resist taking a look.
No one inside. The keys he'd left on the desk last night were gone. Cecilia Ye must have moved out.
He glanced around, then continued to the study.
Meanwhile, Vivian Belle wandered through the downstairs rooms. As a servant passed, she flashed a friendly smile. "I'll be living here from now on—please take care of me."
The servants exchanged glances and quickly withdrew. So this was the woman Mr. Fu had nearly married all those years ago.
A white puppy barked at her. Vivian Belle, irritated, gave it a little kick. Hmph, little beast. The frightened dog scampered into another room.
Smiling with satisfaction, Vivian Belle then climbed the stairs to the second floor and began exploring, room by room.
On the left was a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows, flooded with natural light. It was filled with art supplies—paintings on all the easels, some completed.
In the center stood a large painting of a wood hibiscus: layered petals, lush and vibrant, the various shades of purple glistening with dew, nearly lifelike.
Vivian Belle’s eyes flashed with malice. Hmph, so the substitute Zhiyé married likes to paint, does she?
She picked a brush from a bucket, opened a jar of paint, and, stroke by stroke, began slashing red across the hibiscus canvas.
Cecilia Ye walked for ages to get back to the Fu house, left her suitcase by the door, and rushed inside.
Heading upstairs, she was relieved to not run into Zhiyé—he was always busy during the day. Facing him would have been unbearable.
At the stairs, she saw the door to her studio was ajar. Odd—she always closed it.
She heard faint noises from inside and grew more suspicious, cautiously approaching.
The moment she opened the door, the person inside jumped in fright, dropping their brush and splattering vivid red paint onto the floor.
Cecilia Ye stared, unable to believe her eyes.
Her almost-finished painting of the wood hibiscus was now smeared with red, the gentle purple petals slashed, destroyed stroke by stroke.