That day Shanghai poured like the sky had a grudge.
Bund 18 entrance—Gu Xinghe was really on his knees.
Grey suit soaked through, clutching a bouquet of white roses beaten to mush by the rain.
I stood over him with an umbrella, maternity dress plastered to my four-month bump.
He looked up, still wearing that refined smile, eyes threaded with blood:
"Lin Zhi, I lost.
But answer me one thing—
will the child you're carrying ever hate you the way you hate me today?"
I crouched, tilted the umbrella; rain slapped my face.
I stared into his eyes:
"Gu Xinghe, remember this:
the thing I hate most is being played.
You shorted my child.
I'll make sure you never lift your head again in this city."
I threw the umbrella at him, turned, and got into Fu Juanzhou's car.
The second the door slammed, my legs gave out.
Fu Juanzhou caught me. I buried my face in his chest, voice tiny:
"Ah Juan… I was so scared just now…
scared I'd really turn into one of those women who give up everything for a kid…"
He held me so tight I could feel his heart hammering:
"Lin Zhi, listen good.
If you ever throw away your knife for the child,
I'll tie you to the negotiating table myself
and kill every last one of them in front of you."
The rain got heavier, trying to drown the whole city.