Lin Xin'er stared at Ethan Yu's calm smile, her chest tightening like someone had reached inside and taken something from her—something precious, irreplaceable.
All this time, she'd told herself Hailey Tang didn't deserve him.
That their marriage was a mistake. Temporary. A blip.
She had believed, truly believed, that once Hailey faded out of the picture, she would have her chance. That he would finally see her.
But now…
Now she wasn't so sure anymore.
Ethan had just called Hailey his wife in front of everyone. Not with hesitation, not as a legal formality, but with a quiet kind of pride.
That word—that single word—struck Lin Xin'er like a blow to the heart.
Was it over? Had she lost before the game even started?
Her throat closed up. She couldn't breathe.
Meanwhile, Hailey Tang had left the 'Dongfang' building without saying goodbye to anyone. She didn't go home. Instead, she wandered the city for a while before making an unexpected decision.
She went to take a career and personality assessment test.
Yes. A real one. The kind used by college students and disoriented corporate employees to figure out their "true passion" or "inner calling."
It sounded dumb even to her, but… what else did she have to lose?
She'd poured so much of her energy into trying to be someone worthy of Ethan. And now that she no longer wanted his approval—no longer even wanted him—she felt hollow.
Maybe this test would tell her what she was really meant to do.
She sat across from the consultant, nervously filling out page after page of questionnaires: preferences, dislikes, abstract reasoning, work values, emotional triggers…
An hour later, the consultant stared at her result sheet with a face caught between confusion and horror.
"Miss Tang," the woman finally said, pushing up her glasses. "After thorough evaluation, I can tell you that… well… you appear to have no particular interests or hobbies."
Hailey blinked. "I'm… what?"
"You show no strong career inclination, no creative calling, no technical leanings, no sustained interest in any field of work."
The consultant hesitated. Then, awkwardly, she added, "Actually, there's only one area where you scored off the charts."
Hailey leaned in.
"Um… romantic engagement."
"…Excuse me?"
"In layman's terms, your only identifiable passion appears to be… falling in love."
Hailey stared at her. The consultant offered a half-apologetic smile, as if this revelation were somehow her fault.
It was.
It really was.
The words rang in Hailey's ears like a cruel joke: Your only passion is falling in love.
And now… she didn't even want to fall in love anymore.
Not with Ethan.
Not with anyone.
She walked out of the building in a daze, barely noticing the sunshine or the cars honking around her.
She was a freak.
Who else on earth had romance as their only driving purpose in life? And now that even that was gone, what did she have left?
She couldn't draw professionally.
She didn't want to become some socialite wife.
She didn't care about fame, power, or money.
So what exactly are you, Hailey Tang? A glorified houseplant with Gucci handbags?
No. That was unfair. Even houseplants provided oxygen.
What was she?
A… decoration? A spoiled daughter with no direction?
No—worse. A broken decoration. One that didn't even know what it wanted anymore.
Her thoughts spiraled. Every step she took felt heavier. By the time she got back to the villa, she felt like a marionette with its strings cut.
She collapsed cross-legged on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.
—
Zhang Ma found her like that and nearly had a heart attack.
"Young Miss, are you alright?" the housekeeper asked in alarm.
Hailey just shook her head wordlessly.
Zhang Ma pressed a hand to her forehead. "Do you feel sick? Want some water?"
No reply.
"Should I call the doctor?"
Nothing. Hailey remained stiff, unmoving, her eyes vacant.
Zhang Ma, completely panicked now, called Ethan at the office.
—
When Ethan returned home that evening, the first thing he noticed was the silence.
No light humming from the kitchen.
No scent of new desserts she'd tried baking.
No slippers tossed at the door.
Just Zhang Ma whispering urgently, "Sir, she's been like this since she came back. Hours now. I tried talking to her, but she won't say a word."
Ethan frowned.
He walked into the living room and saw her—curled up, knees drawn to her chest, blank eyes fixed somewhere past the ceiling.
It was eerie. Like someone had hit pause on her soul.
"What happened?" he asked sharply.
Zhang Ma shrugged helplessly. "She brought you lunch earlier. Seemed fine. Came back like this."
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
Lunch… earlier that day…
The only thing that happened after that was the team meeting about the design competition.
Could it be that?
He folded his arms, watching her for a long moment.
Then he bent slightly and said in a dry voice, "Don't tell me you think I'm not giving you your five million."
No response.
He raised an eyebrow. "Just because I didn't announce your name doesn't mean I'm backing out. I said I'd give you the money. I will."
Still nothing.
Was she… sulking? No, this felt different.
She wasn't pouting.
She looked genuinely lost.
He crouched in front of her, rested an elbow on his knee, and tapped her forehead with one finger.
"Hailey Tang," he said, his voice quieter now. "What are you thinking?"
No answer.
He leaned in closer. "Hey. I'm talking to you. What's going on in that head of yours?"
Finally, after another long beat, she blinked.
Her eyes turned toward him, slow and slightly glassy.
She asked, voice flat and toneless: "What do you want?"
Ethan was taken aback.
"I should be the one asking you that," he said, straightening up. "What the hell are you doing, zoning out like a ghost?"
Hailey didn't answer. Her expression remained hollow, numb.
Like she wasn't quite here anymore.
And Ethan—Mr. Logic, Mr. Precision—had no idea how to reach her.
He'd seen her throw tantrums, act petty, scream over spilled milk. That was the Hailey Tang he'd gotten used to.
But this?
This terrifying stillness?
He didn't like it.
Not one bit.