Chapter 3: Divorce

The July wind carried the heavy heat of summer, yet Jiang Mugui felt a chill run through her entire body.

She stood beneath the company building for a long time, waiting until the sky had turned completely dark before preparing to hail a taxi home.

But when she reached into her pocket, she found it empty.

After racking her memory, she realized she must have left her phone on the sofa in Mu Anyan’s office.

She stood still for a moment, sighed deeply, and then reluctantly turned back.

Arriving at his office door, she paused a while before raising her hand to knock, only to find the door ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside.

Mu Anyan was in the reception room on the phone, seemingly unaware of her return.

Jiang Mugui picked up her phone and glanced at the desk. Noticing there was no coffee, her heart skipped a beat. Something stirred within her, as if a sixth sense urged her toward the trash bin in the corner.

She lightly tapped it with her foot and saw the familiar large cup of coffee inside.

Sensing something, Mu Anyan frowned and turned, spotting the girl standing motionless by the bin. His chest tightened slightly. He hung up and walked over. “Mugui.”

Jiang Mugui turned and left.

Instinctively, Mu Anyan grabbed her wrist. His warm, strong palm encircled her delicate, pale wrist, sending a tingling sensation straight to her chest—a feeling as if she had been struck.

It was a strange, bittersweet sensation. She reflexively pulled away from his grasp and hurried off.

Taking the elevator down, she soon reached the company’s entrance.

---

But fate seemed to toy with her. Her phone was dead, and a heavy rain began to fall outside.

Clutching her phone tightly and debating whether to find shelter in a convenience store, a black car both unfamiliar and strangely familiar pulled up before her.

The passenger window rolled down, revealing Mu Anyan’s composed face. His warm gaze settled steadily on her. “Get in.”

Jiang Mugui stared at her toes, refusing to respond.

He didn’t rush to start the engine. His dark eyes were calm as still water, silently enduring the standoff, but the weight of his presence made it hard for her to breathe.

After a long while, she parted her lips and reluctantly slid into the car.

His aura was overwhelming, and the cramped space of the vehicle made it feel even more suffocating. She pressed herself against the window, trying to keep as much distance from him as she could.

The ride was silent until they reached her home.

Or rather, the Jiang family home. Jiang Mugui always felt that although she was Jiang Wei’s daughter, she was more like a guest in his house, never truly belonging.

As for Mu Anyan, her nominal father, his marriage to Jiang Wei had long been a mere formality.

Mu Anyan stopped the car without a word. The silence inside the vehicle was profound.

After a moment, Jiang Mugui forced her voice out, “Thank you for giving me a ride home. Goodbye.”

“Mugui.” He called after her.

Her hand froze on the door handle.

---

He remained silent for a long moment, then slowly said, “I’m not used to lattes.”

Jiang Mugui was taken aback, realizing he was explaining why he had thrown away her latte.

Though he regretted explaining—it was not his nature to justify his actions once done—seeing her expression somehow compelled him to speak.

He did feel guilty toward her.

She turned her face slightly to look at him. His steady gaze met hers; beneath the night’s cloak, his brows and eyes revealed no emotion, only a piercing sharpness that seemed to cut straight to her soul.

In that instant, she curled one corner of her lips in sarcasm, “It’s fine. Isn’t that just like you?”

Her tone was tinged with irony.

He heard it, yet driven by some impulse, he said, “Sorry.”

Those two words seemed to strike a chord deep within her. Summoning some unknown courage, she asked, “Aren’t you coming home with me?”

Mu Anyan fell utterly silent.

Jiang Mugui looked at the small villa and her eyes grew moist. “Why haven’t you two divorced yet?”