Chapter 72: Mr. Gu, Please Sign the Divorce Papers

Inside the taxi, the driver glanced at Wen Zhixia through the rearview mirror. Her eyes were rimmed with red, yet she stubbornly refused to let her tears fall.

The roads were slick with snow, and night had descended; every car moved cautiously, wary of unforeseen accidents.

“... Help me investigate someone. I want to know every change in her assets over the past six months,” Wen Zhixia paused, “And don’t tell anyone about this, including... him.”

“Miss Wen, rest assured. Sir has instructed us to follow your wishes. Since you ask for confidentiality, only the two of us will know,” the voice on the other end replied crisply.

Back then, Xu Qichen was not yet addressed as Mr. Xu, but as Young Master Xu. The year he went abroad, he gave Wen Zhixia a number, telling her she could trust this person completely if she ever needed help. This man seemed to owe the Xu family a great debt.

“Miss, we’re here. The taxi can’t go beyond this point,” the driver said, looking ahead at the building. He’d dropped a passenger here before; entry was strictly controlled, non-residents weren’t allowed in. “That’ll be forty-five.”

Wen Zhixia had no money on her; neither phone nor wallet was with her. She lowered the window and beckoned to the security guard at the gate.

“I didn’t bring any money. Could you pay the fare for me? I’ll repay you later,” she said.

The guard recognized her and paid, then opened the car door for her. Noticing the bandages on her head and hospital gown, he asked with concern, “Did you just come from the hospital?”

Wen Zhixia nodded slightly. “I’d like to see today’s surveillance footage.”

The security guard hesitated. “... Surveillance can’t be accessed without police authorization.”

“I was abducted from the community today; the police have already opened a case. Is that not enough?” Her tone was calm, but her words stunned the guard.

Wen Zhixia was soon seated inside the security office. The property manager came to apologize, along with the new guard who had just made a mistake.

Wen Zhixia said nothing, her gaze steady on the screen. “Stop. Send me a screenshot of this segment.”

She indicated the frame where the license plate and three figures were clearly visible. The manager cooperated fully, while the new guard dared not breathe.

Everyone understood: the guard hadn’t been fired only because management intended him to take the blame, bear Wen Zhixia’s wrath and responsibility.

“Why were these people allowed in?” She reached to touch her forehead, but stopped when her fingers met the bandage.

“That... was our negligence. The new guard didn’t know the rules, causing you trouble. We deeply apologize. Please, let us cover your medical expenses for this incident—would that be acceptable?”

Her injuries were not severe, since she had returned home; more shock than harm. The property covering medical costs would be a sincere gesture without heavy loss.

Wen Zhixia turned to the sweating, nervous guard. “Your internal errors are your own to resolve, nothing to do with me. I need you to cooperate with the police, strengthen security, and prevent such incidents in the future. As for the rest, my lawyer will discuss it with you.”

She had come mostly for the surveillance video.

The manager offered to escort her home, but Wen Zhixia declined. If not for the bandages and hospital gown, her demeanor would have been unchanged from before.

A woman, kidnapped, forced to fight for her life, injured, diagnosed with a grave illness, witness to deception—yet still calm, showing no sign of distress.

She was strong, of course; whatever the circumstances, she had always walked alone.

Before meeting Gu Pingsheng, she survived on her own—why should she break down now?

Step by step she walked toward Lanhu Estate, her back straight beneath the night, her pride intact.

“Manager, is she going to sue us?” someone asked.

The manager stood by the window, watching Wen Zhixia’s departing figure. “We’ll see when the lawyer arrives. This woman... is not simple.”

From abduction to now, not even twelve hours had passed. There was no trace of fear or post-trauma hysteria in her expression. The manager reflected that even as a grown man, he could not remain so composed.

Yet none could imagine that Wen Zhixia, who maintained absolute calm before others, who woke bloodied after being kicked down a mountain, who never shed a tear, would, upon reaching her door, tumble on flat ground, remain frozen in her fallen posture, and let silent tears spill “pat, pat, pat” onto the floor.

Have you ever met someone who, though he recklessly barged into your world, domineeringly seized your life, whispered sweet promises, could turn and be tender with another woman? All the memories now mock your naïveté—that you ever thought yourself irreplaceable.

From school days to her career, everyone said Wen Zhixia was clever. Yet even as clever as she was, she couldn’t make sense of this: why, after losing someone who no longer loved her, did she feel such pain, when Gu Pingsheng had lost someone willing to do anything for him? It was his loss, his mistake—why was she so heartbroken?

She was truly heartbroken, having staked everything and lost it all.

She drew a bath, waited for warmth to seep into her body, and for the treated wound on her chest to sting. Only then did she realize, with lowered eyes, that she had forgotten the knife wound she gave herself.

A superficial wound, not touching organs, not life-threatening; but it marked that something had indeed happened.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, she curled up on the sofa for a long, long time, until a vibrating phone roused her.

It was a dossier: clear, precise, detailing Zhao Fuhuo’s assets and expenditures over the last half year.

Only now did Wen Zhixia realize—Gu Pingsheng was not only generous with her, but with all the women around him.

Suddenly she smiled, perhaps recalling the saying—who can remain unchanged, as they were at first sight.

Berlin.

“Sir, it’s time for your medicine,” Jin Mao placed the prepared medicine and water on the table, speaking softly.

Xu Qichen lifted his hand; Jin Mao then saw he was still in a video conference.

He should have taken his medicine an hour ago, but the meeting kept getting extended.

Jin Mao typed a line on the tablet and slid it to a place Xu Qichen could see: Sir, if you keep neglecting your medication, I’ll have to ask Miss Wen to persuade you.

Xu Qichen, turning his artifact in hand, cast a sidelong, displeased look.

Jin Mao lowered his head, pretending not to notice.

Eventually, Xu Qichen ended the meeting within fifteen minutes. Jin Mao hurriedly brought the medicine; Xu Qichen paused, then swallowed it with water.

Having taken medicine constantly since childhood, anyone would develop an aversion to it.

Yet when Xu Qichen visited Wen Zhixia in the hospital after she was rescued by police, the method he used to soothe her anxiety and get her to take medicine was to take it alongside her.

Wen Zhixia had asked, “Is it bitter?”

Xu Qichen smiled gently, “It is.”

Wen Zhixia frowned—he wasn’t playing by the usual rules. Wasn’t he supposed to say “It’s not bitter,” to coax her?

“Good medicine is always bitter—no cure is sweet. But,” he produced a candy as if by magic, “you can keep this in your mouth, and when it melts, down the medicine together, before it notices. Try it?”

She didn’t know then how many doses a person must take before they learn tricks for swallowing pills. Later, after she was discharged and living normally, but he showed no sign of recovery, she learned his health had never been good.

Wen Zhixia’s gentle ease and later lively wit had, subtly, been influenced by Xu Qichen.

He was heir to a century-old family, his manner like that of a noble from a medieval castle.

“If Miss Wen were here, sir, you wouldn’t be so lonely,” Jin Mao remarked after Xu Qichen finished the medicine.

Xu Qichen paused, setting down the glass. “You talk too much.”

She was married now, living the life she chose. “Don’t mention this again.”

Jin Mao hesitated, almost speaking: “But... what if Miss Wen isn’t happy?”

Xu Qichen’s gaze darkened. “I will protect her. Whoever dares—”

Even that man.

When Gu Pingsheng was discharged and entered Lanhu Estate, he happened to see a patrol car departing. His deep eyes glanced at it.

“What happened?” he asked the driver.

The driver hesitated, “I’ll ask in a moment.”

Gu Pingsheng gave him a cryptic look, slowly rubbing his ring. “Remember what I told you at the start. Don’t force me to act.”

The driver froze, then braked sharply, nearly hitting the property manager blocking the road.

The manager, sweating, had been waving for a while; he hadn’t expected to nearly be run over.

The driver steadied himself, then lowered the window as the manager approached. “What’s the matter?”

The manager nodded, then moved to the back, bent over at the window, and bowed deeply to Gu Pingsheng. “Mr. Gu, apologies. We knocked but got no response. This is for Mrs. Gu, to aid her recovery—a small token from us. We’ve dismissed the guard responsible. There’s a card inside, covering medical and nutrition expenses. We’re truly sorry for frightening Mrs. Gu. The police have already been by, and we’ve handed over the video footage, I...”

“My wife was frightened?” Gu Pingsheng interrupted coldly, his voice deep.

The manager paused, “Mr. Gu, you didn’t know?”

Such a major incident—by rights, Mrs. Gu should have informed her husband first.

Gu Pingsheng: “Speak.”

Manager: “... Yesterday, a new guard’s mistake let suspicious people in. Mrs. Gu... was kidnapped. But fortunately, nothing serious happened, she returned safely last night. We...”

“Turn back now,” Gu Pingsheng ordered the driver, not waiting for him to finish.

The manager wondered if it was his imagination, but for an instant, Gu Pingsheng’s voice seemed to tremble.

Wen Zhixia came downstairs, transferred the medical expenses to the hospital, began unwinding the bandages from her head, and applied medicine.

Gu Pingsheng strode in, shoes still on, heading straight for her.

Wen Zhixia heard his footsteps, paused her movements, but didn’t look up.

“Let me see,” Gu Pingsheng sat beside her, pressed her hand, wanting to check her injuries.

Wen Zhixia coolly pushed his hand away; beneath her eyes lingered a haze of gray. She hadn’t slept well last night—if at all.

How could she sleep, after everything changed in a single day?

Anyone would toss and turn, unable to rest.

Facing the mirror, Wen Zhixia wrapped fresh bandages around her head. She’d never been vain, but like any woman, she wouldn’t want scars on her face—especially one that could remind her of what happened every time she saw it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the kidnapping?” Gu Pingsheng interpreted her coldness as lingering anger.

Wen Zhixia’s lips curled faintly, her voice soft, “There’s no need.”

No need now, nor ever again.

Gu Pingsheng frowned, “We’re married. I’m your husband. What do you mean, no need?”

She tied the bandage behind her head, smoothed her hair, and for the first time since his arrival, looked at him. “Because, after today, you and I are no longer husband and wife.”

No longer spouses—her affairs ceased to concern him.

Gu Pingsheng gazed at her, eyes deep. “I told you, we won’t divorce. So many days have passed—I thought your anger had faded.”

Anger?

“Yes, I’m no longer angry. Whether you want children, or play around outside, I’m not angry anymore.” She pulled out a divorce agreement drafted by her lawyer overnight, placed it before him, already signed: “After the divorce, whether car, house, or stocks, they’re all yours. I only want fifty million.”

Fifty million—for a man of Gu Pingsheng’s wealth, this was a bargain. The shares in Gu Xia Group she relinquished alone were worth hundreds of millions.

Gu Pingsheng swept the agreement to the floor, gaze sharp as a hook. “I won’t agree,” he said. “I won’t divorce.”

Wen Zhixia bent to pick it up. “Sign it. Our marriage no longer has any reason to continue. I’m tired.”

“What do you mean, no reason? Isn’t it just that you want to keep this child? I...” Gu Pingsheng inhaled sharply, as if struggling to restrain himself. “You always think about the child. Do you want to have it alone? Pregnancy isn’t as easy as you imagine, nor is childbirth.”

She remained unmoved, as if she hadn’t heard.

Gu Pingsheng gripped her arm. “If I promise to keep the child, will you drop the divorce?”

The child?

Wen Zhixia laughed in exasperation, shook off his hand, tried to lift her eyes, but dizziness struck from her earlier exertion and agitation—her vision went black.

As she began to collapse, Gu Pingsheng caught her, carrying her to the sofa. “Is it your head, or something else?”

Wen Zhixia held her forehead, shook her head, and after several seconds, returned to normal. Her first words then were, “Pingsheng, sign it.”

She said, “Gu Pingsheng, the day I agreed to be with you, I made a bet with the gods: that we’d go to the end. Now... the gods win. I accept defeat.”

Gu Pingsheng’s grip on her shoulder was tight, his eyes dark as night, bottomless. “I agree to keep the child. Let’s stop fighting, alright? I’ll find those who kidnapped you—they won’t get away... Let’s call a truce, okay?”

“You know I’ve never made trouble.” She looked at him seriously. “I never make decisions lightly, and this time I’m more serious than ever. We should end this, Gu Pingsheng. We loved each other; I don’t want us to become like enemies, hating the sight of each other.”

“Don’t say such foolish things, Xiaxia.” He cupped her face, gently caressing her cheek. “How could I hate you, or see you as an enemy? Let’s stop, listen to me. As for the child, it’s up to you; if you want it, we’ll keep it. I’ll make arrangements, you just focus on resting at home.”

He seemed to treat everything as her throwing a tantrum.

“If we can’t agree, then we’ll file for divorce,” Wen Zhixia stepped back, widening the gap between them.

Gu Pingsheng’s hand hovered in its previous position, his eyes sharp as blades. “Give me a reason.”

He demanded, “Give me a reason why you insist on divorce.”

He had already agreed to keep the child; why was she so adamant?

Wen Zhixia looked at him quietly. “I just suddenly realized, your kindness to me, you can extend to other women as well. What I want is to be the only one. If you can’t give me that, let’s part amicably.”

“If you’re not the only one, then who is?” he pressed. “Tell me—who is?!”

“Chengya Residence—I’ve been there.” Her voice was calm, unruffled.