On the second day of her leave, Cen Jin binge-watched five movies without a break.
She had drawn the bedroom curtains tightly shut, not allowing a single sliver of light to enter. The entire room was pitch black and gloomy, with only the laptop screen flickering like a doorway to a time tunnel, ready to pull her into different worlds at any moment.
She hadn’t eaten for nearly ten hours either, just slumped against her pillow, squeezing a nearly depleted energy bar like an addict. Only after confirming there was nothing left to extract did she toss it back onto the bedside table.
Cen Jin had never experienced heartbreak—her first love was her husband.
But she was facing a more serious problem: her husband had filed for divorce.
It all happened suddenly, yet it wasn’t unexpected.
Because as early as six months ago, she had vaguely sensed the signs.
It started with Wu Fu’s change in attitude toward her. She comforted herself, thinking it was normal—passionate affection eventually gives way to steady companionship and mutual nitpicking. But once the seed of suspicion takes root, it only grows stronger. Cen Jin was accustomed to their life as a couple and had considered deceiving herself, avoiding these sore points altogether. Yet it always felt like standing beneath a ceiling fan that hadn’t been maintained for years.
Precarious, hanging by a thread.
Until the end of last month, that fan finally crashed down on her head. During dinner, Wu Fu placed the divorce agreement in front of her.
His breathing was calm, his lips moving slowly and deliberately, as if explaining something.
But in that instant, the world seemed to freeze, a dull thunder rumbled overhead, and Cen Jin’s mind went blank, like a hollowed-out, rotten nutshell. She couldn’t hear a single word, just stared at him blankly. Only when his lips stopped moving did she numbly utter a confused, "Huh?"
Recalling this, Cen Jin snapped back to the present.
Her face felt cold. She raised a hand to wipe it and, unsurprised, found her palm wet with tears.
Lately, she often slipped into this state, weeping without even realizing it.
Cen Jin wiped her face hard with the back of her hand, then pulled a tissue from beside her pillow and gently dabbed the area around her eyes.
After doing this, she dragged the movie’s progress bar backward.
Where was she? She tried to recall, but her mind felt muddled, as if sucked into a black hole.
Torrents of negative emotions could easily shatter her. Cen Jin pressed her lips together firmly, took a sharp breath through her nose, and finally paused the movie at a point she wasn’t even sure of.
As the film neared its end, her phone vibrated.
Cen Jin picked it up to look—it was a message from a friend: "You took time off?"
Cen Jin replied with an "Mm," and was about to set the phone aside when another message came through: "No wonder no one answered when I asked you out to eat."
She added: "It must be tough, seeing him all the time. I’d take leave too if I were you."
Cen Jin stayed silent. She thought about typing a few words to prove her cool indifference, but she clearly wasn’t that strong, nor did she want to pretend. So she admitted: "Yeah."
Her friend asked: "What are you doing at home? I’ll come keep you company after work."
Cen Jin said: "No need."
Her friend persisted: "Is it inconvenient? Are you still living with Wu Fu?"
Cen Jin: "We’ve separated."
Friend: "In your own place now?"
Cen Jin: "Yes."
Friend sounded surprised: "Ah, when did you move?"
Cen Jin: "The day after he brought up the divorce."
Friend: "You’re so efficient."
Even while teasing, she didn’t forget to check in: "Superwoman, I should still come see you."
Cen Jin declined again: "Really, it’s not necessary."
Friend: "Are you sure you won’t die?"
Cen Jin: "It’s not that bad, don’t worry."
Friend: "That’s what I thought."Putting her phone aside, Cen Jin tapped the touchpad to resume the movie, letting the protagonist continue their performance. This time she paused it early, no longer needing to rewind due to distraction.
The unfortunate truth was that life wasn’t like a film—joys and sorrows were already set in stone, with no room for regret or returning to a previous moment to start over.
—“If I could, I would never have fallen in love or married Wu Fu.”
In just over ten days, this thought had flashed through Cen Jin’s mind countless times. She silently cursed like a shrew, then sank into melancholy and drank herself into a stupor on sentimental nights, wallowing in self-pity—yet all of this existed only in her imagination.
The role she had assigned herself in this breakup drama involved only watching movies, fasting, crying, and dramatic solitude—no audience needed, not even her closest friends or family.
Because she was simply too disheveled. The effortless exit from the adult world was nothing more than a seemingly dignified escape.
Still, she was grateful for her friend’s message; it had pulled Cen Jin back to the real world, and she finally felt drowsy.
Struggling to keep her eyes open for a while longer, Cen Jin stopped fighting her exhaustion, pushed her laptop aside, and lay down under the covers.
She turned over, found the most comfortable position, and pulled the quilt up over her head.
Just as she was about to be submerged in sleep and find brief relief, her phone vibrated violently on the nightstand.
Cen Jin lifted a corner of the quilt, grabbed the annoying electronic brick, and snapped, “Didn’t I tell you not to come—”
The other end fell completely silent, as if even holding their breath.
It didn’t seem to be her friend, but the call didn’t disconnect immediately either.
Frowning, Cen Jin shifted to lie on her back and raised the phone to glance at the screen—an unfamiliar number, not even local. She guessed it might be a client with a new number and waited silently without speaking.
After a brief, awkward stalemate with no response, Cen Jin’s patience ran out. She decided to treat it as a spam call and was about to hang up when the other end suddenly spoke: “Excuse me.”
It was a male voice, transmitted through the receiver, not entirely clear but strikingly youthful, like a drop of crystal-clear water falling into this desolate bedroom.
Cen Jin pressed the phone back to her ear, and the voice amplified, becoming clearer, rippling in layers: “Is this Ms. Cen Jin?”
His enunciation was precise, but his tone carried caution.
Cen Jin hummed in acknowledgment and asked flatly, “Yes, who is this?”
“I—” Introducing himself seemed somewhat difficult for him. After a few seconds of hesitation, he finally spoke his name: “I’m Li Wu.”
—
A gift?
That was Cen Jin’s first thought, followed by an association with the popular virtual boyfriend services online. She instinctively assumed it was a prank by a friend.
But the boy’s tone was earnest, devoid of any slickness. It didn’t sound like a joke to Cen Jin, so she pressed further: “Who?”
After a moment of silence, he replied, “Do you still remember me? I’m the student you and your husband sponsored.”
Understanding dawned on Cen Jin, and a shadow flitted through her mind—the lanky boy who had stood by the door, observing her and Wu Fu. She couldn’t recall his full appearance, only remembering his bright, stubborn eyes, like a calf or fawn quietly lying in wait in the wilderness.
Cen Jin’s tone softened slightly: “It’s you. What can I do for you?”
The boy said, “I want to continue my studies. Can you help me?”
Suspicious, Cen Jin furrowed her brow: “Aren’t you already in school? Or did you not receive the funds for this semester? I remember the money should have been transferred to your grandfather’s account around August.”The young man's voice grew muffled: "He passed away in early October."
"Ah..." Cen Jin fell silent, a wave of compassion surging in her heart. "Are you alone at home now?"
"I'm staying at my aunt's place now. Every day... I can't focus on studying," he added, "I called Mr. Wu, and he told me to come find you."
Cen Jin was provoked by the latter part of his sentence, sitting up abruptly. "What did he mean by that?"
The young man seemed quite adept at silence. After a moment of quiet, he said, "I don't know either. He said you two had separated, then gave me your contact information."
"..."
Cen Jin bent her legs, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear with one hand, her tone turning cold and somber. "So you came to me?"
Sensing her shift in mood, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
The child's vulnerability made Cen Jin redirect her frustration. "Let me call him. Wait for a moment."
The boy hesitated. "I'm using a borrowed phone." He might not be able to answer later.
Cen Jin: "Two minutes."
"Okay."
After hanging up, Cen Jin immediately dialed Wu Fu. She hadn't contacted him since moving out of their marital home.
The first call went unanswered. She tried again, and this time, he finally picked up.
Instead of the familiar affectionate address, his voice was blunt and distant: "What is it?"
Cen Jin pressed her hand against the quilt. "You're pushing the child we sponsored entirely onto me?"
"This was your parents' idea."
Cen Jin's breathing grew tense. "So?"
"Who started it should clean up the mess."
"Weren't you involved too?"
"We both were," Wu Fu replied calmly. "So I'm leaving the decision to end this to you. Of course, you can also continue playing the good person. It's proven that your parents' superstitious activities and feudal mindset didn't work—our marriage is just as terrible."
Cen Jin's chest heaved, her eyes welling up with anger. "What are you saying?"
"I'm stating facts."
Cen Jin was nearly bursting with rage. "So we just abandon him? Don't you think that's cruel?"
"Is he our biological son, Jinjin?" In moments of emotion, Wu Fu still unconsciously used her pet name—a habit accumulated over years that couldn't be broken overnight. "I've read the contract. If the sponsor encounters unforeseen circumstances, the sponsorship can be terminated early. If you and I don't care, someone else will naturally take over."
So in his eyes, those once emotionally charged black-and-white agreements were nothing but cold contracts that could be terminated at any time.
Cen Jin thought of herself and felt a chill run through her body, her words nearly trembling. "Wu Fu, you're truly despicable."
Wu Fu: "I'm still busy. No time to argue. I'm hanging up."
With a click, the line went completely silent. Cen Jin was so furious her chest ached. Clenching her fists, she sniffled, forcing herself to regain composure before calling Li Wu back.
The call was answered quickly, but by someone else—an older-sounding man with a rough, hoarse voice, speaking a dialect she could barely understand.
Frustrated, Cen Jin asked anxiously, "Where's the boy who was using your phone?"
"He's gone," the man said. "Anything else?"
Cen Jin glanced at the time and felt as if struck by a blunt object. Unable to hold back, tears rolled down her cheeks. She merely said, "Nothing," and ended the call.
She sat dazed for a while before lying back down, trying to swallow back the urge to sob.
With her hands clasped together and the phone pressed against her chest, she felt both heartbroken and lost.Two years ago, when they had just set their wedding date, Wu Fu was in a car accident. Though he escaped unscathed, it left the elders in the family deeply worried, fearing further mishaps on the actual wedding day.
At first, neither she nor Wu Fu paid it much mind. But after she miscarried her first pregnancy, her parents grew so anxious they could hardly eat or sleep, and began spending large sums to consult so-called fortune-tellers. Wu Fu, too, became increasingly superstitious and eventually went along with the elders' plans.
The master's proposed solution was for the couple to sponsor a child in the southern region.
Reluctantly, Cen Jin found herself dragged along to a remote mountain village in Shengzhou.
There, they were introduced to a tailor-made candidate for their sponsorship—a child who had just graduated from junior high but couldn't afford tuition for the county high school. His background was tragic: both parents had died when he was young, leaving him to care for his hemiplegic grandfather while studying. His life was one of hardships few could endure.
Eager to please the benefactors, the village committee director enthusiastically praised Li Wu as both academically outstanding and mature, leading them to the boy's home for a visit.
The boy's poverty was startling. His home was a single low, crude earthen house, bare and sparsely furnished, with a single hanging light bulb as the only electrical appliance.
"Where is the child?" Wu Fu asked.
The director, too, was puzzled. In clumsy Mandarin, he muttered, "Strange, where's Li Wu? Li Wu!" He called the boy's name as he walked toward the inner room. "Old Li—where's your grandson... What are you hiding in here for?"
Cen Jin turned to look and, in that moment, met a pair of eyes peering through the door crack.
...
The process was confirmed quickly.
Before they left, the director insisted on taking a photo with the child, right in front of the small earthen house that was barely taller than Wu Fu.
Remembering this, Cen Jin opened her phone's photo album and scrolled through pictures from 2017. Soon, she found that group photo.
Under the glaring sun that day, she and Wu Fu stood on either side. Wu Fu's smiling face was bleached white by the light, while she squinted slightly, her lips curved in a smile.
The boy named Li Wu stood between them, half a head shorter than her, expressionless—the only one without a smile. His chin was slightly tucked, but it wasn't out of shyness before the camera. His eyes, clear and penetrating, held a sharp, determined intensity that seemed to see right through a person, even through the screen.
The boy's gaze was so powerful, it felt as though it could pull someone from an icy lake. Cen Jin zoomed in on the photo, and a warmth gathered within her. She turned off the screen, got out of bed, and tied her disheveled long hair into a ponytail with a hairband as she walked toward the bathroom.
She was going back to that mountain. She would pull him up once more.
Author's Note:
I'm writing another older-female-younger-male romance! This one will be a slow burn, and both the male and female leads have imperfect personalities. I hope everyone can give them a little more time!!
OpenNovel