Five months pregnant, I stood on the Bund, wind blowing my maternity dress like a black flag.
In the river's reflection, blood-red characters appeared:
[Legacy Risk Triggered]
[Recommendation: Liquidate everyone who claims to love you]
I rubbed my belly. The baby kicked—
once, twice—
as if reminding me:
Lin Zhi, time to pay what you owe,
with interest.
Fu Juanzhou came up behind me, palms covering my belly.
I turned and asked the question that terrified me most:
"Ah Juan… if one day I have to choose between you and the child,
who would you make me pick?"
He was quiet so long I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he kissed the back of my neck, voice almost inaudible:
"Pick me.
We can make another child.
If I lose you,
I don't even qualify for hell."
I laughed, tears falling into the river, gone in a gust.
That moment I finally got it—
Shanghai never lacks love.
It lacks real exit mechanisms.
And I'd finally found someone willing to set the exit fee at death with me.
The wind turned colder.
I reached back, laced my fingers with his.
Two knives,
finally sharing the same sheath.