Leaning wearily against the sofa, her slender palm still pressed over her heart, Ding Jia gazed tearfully with soft, watery phoenix-like eyes at Kong Chengyi's worried face.
"I… I feel so upset. I haven't been able to sleep these past two days. Whenever I close my eyes, I think about those reports, about our past, but also about the sweet moments you shared with her—the photos of you two intimately embracing and kissing…" She breathed heavily but continued to voice her feelings in a faint voice, slowly revealing the thoughts in her heart: "I want to be with you. I truly can't bear to leave you. Just thinking about you holding another woman's hand, kissing her, my heart aches and I feel suffocated, unable to breathe. I really love you… love you so much…"
Seeing her breathing grow more rapid, Kong Chengyi's handsome features twisted sharply as he sternly scolded, "If you want to be with me, you shouldn't get so worked up, ignoring your own life. What good would it do me if something happens to you?!" It was just a bunch of baseless gossip stirred up by paparazzi—but it had gotten her so upset she was ill, worrying every day.
Enduring his scolding, Ding Jia blinked in grievance, pure tears sliding down her cheeks. Her mouth, initially open from gasping, snapped shut tightly, while her chest rose and fell violently, showing her rapid breathing.
"Dingding, open your mouth and breathe deeply. If you want to be with me, don't play with your life!" Seeing her pout with distress, Kong Chengyi instantly softened, coaxing her quietly and anxiously, "Be good, alright?"
Although her heart still couldn't bear excessive stress or exertion and she needed ample rest, the relentless paparazzi's day-and-night stakeout and wild reporting had pushed her to an emotional breaking point, piercing Kong Chengyi's heart.
One moment he scolded; the next, he softly comforted. Ding Jia suddenly burst into loud sobs, throwing herself into his embrace, her arms gripping his neck tightly. "Yi, I really love you. I don't want to lose you. Even if the whole world calls me 'the other woman,' I don't care. I won't leave you. I won't be afraid of those paparazzi lurking downstairs anymore, and I won't hide from them…" Her pent-up emotions finally exploded within his warm chest, releasing without restraint as she wept, repeatedly affirming her love.
"Shh, shh, don't cry! Take deep breaths, deep breaths!" Her tears quickly soaked his chest. Kong Chengyi nervously stroked her back, afraid she would pass out from shortness of breath.
Mourning softly, her fingers nervously clenched at his shirt. Pressed against his chest, Ding Jia's tears flowed freely, but a faint, satisfied smile quietly crossed her lips.
"Stop crying, stop crying. Is your breath steady? Don't hold your breath, don't hold it in!" Gently pushing her slightly away, Kong Chengyi anxiously studied her cheeks, carefully watching her breathing.
With mouth slightly open, gasping for air, Ding Jia lifted her head to meet his gaze, but her delicate fingers suddenly gripped his shirt tightly. Her tear-filled eyes opened wide, and the sound of her breathing grew more labored, like an asthma attack.
"What's wrong? Can't breathe?" Reacting sharply, Kong Chengyi scooped her up crosswise, deftly kicking the door open with his long legs, then dashed toward the stairs with pounding footsteps.
Her hands dropped limply. Ding Jia murmured softly, "Yi… love… you…" uttering a final declaration of love before her eyes fluttered closed—exhausted, as if slipping into sleep. No matter how much Kong Chengyi called her, she didn't open them again.
The long, empty corridor felt cold and silent. The hospital in the early morning carried a somber, bleak atmosphere—seemingly, being trapped in such a pale place would cover one in sorrow.
A thin mist drifted around Kong Chengyi's defined, elegant fingers as a long cigarette ash quietly fell, breaking apart on the floor into tiny particles. He leaned against the wall, his resolute chin slightly raised, eyes narrowed staring at the gray ceiling—his mind gradually settling.
In a few short days, he had ignored the overwhelming chaos outside, choosing silence and refusing to heed anyone's advice or decisions. He seemed to wait for the final judgment, for time to grant him the most fitting outcome.
Watching Fang Xiufang being wheeled into surgery, her face pale and helpless on the hospital bed, he thought he had endured such frantic loss before. Yet again, he helplessly watched Ding Jia faint. Once more, he personally took her to the hospital, stood powerless as the emergency room doors closed, anxiously waiting and worrying for an hour—thankfully, her heart had just collapsed from excessive stress and exhaustion after days of torment rather than something fatal.
Who was the culprit behind all this?
Hah, for the sake of a hefty scoop fee, she had shamelessly crossed the line. This was something he could never have predicted. The hope and outcome left in his hands were such an ugly truth.
"Boss!" From down the corridor, Ke Jie came running, holding a brown file folder. A few loose sheets of A4 paper fluttered above the folder as he hurried along.
Kong Chengyi glanced sideways at the panting Ke Jie, swiftly banishing the anger from his face. His well-fitted suit pants straightened instantly; a finger flicked away the burnt cigarette ash before placing it in his mouth to inhale deeply, as if savoring the last bitterness.
"Boss, this is the agreement lawyer Chen drafted immediately after he received your call." Ke Jie handed over the brown folder cautiously, carefully suppressing his breaths like he feared disturbing him.
Kong Chengyi's long fingers deftly unfolded the folder. His sharp gaze rapidly swept through the contract. In less than two minutes, he returned the paper to the folder. His deliberately lowered and gravelly voice sounded even deeper in the empty corridor: "Confirmed? They confessed?"
Faintly, he still harbored a shred of hope—not wanting to believe such a disgraceful truth.
Ke Jie quickly passed the thin sheets to him, also lowering his voice hoarsely, "Yes. 'Xing Weekly' admitted that Cai Meiren contacted Madam. Here is a detailed record of the scoop fees paid to her by 'Xing Weekly.' The latest payment was made on the opening day of the broadcast."
Kong Chengyi's dark eyes fixed fiercely on the paper, his anger nearly burning it. Veins bulged across his forehead, twitching visibly as he flipped through the pages.
"'Xing Weekly' has already terminated Cai Meiren. Boss, do you want to acquire 'Xing Weekly' or shut it down?" Ke Jie, standing nearby, could feel Kong Chengyi's rage but still needed to clarify the order regarding the culprit media company.
The last sum on the pristine white document was merely a few hundred thousand yuan, but the date shown pushed Kong Chengyi's anger to its peak—that day was Chongyang Festival, a day meant to honor elders, yet Fang Xiufang had suffered a life-threatening crisis. She had barely escaped death and still lay weak in the hospital.
Recalling how Cai Meiren brazenly barged in and relentlessly pursued her scoop, Kong Chengyi grit his teeth and resolutely issued the command, "Make the arrangements. 'Xing Weekly' will never exist in this city again! You stay here and watch over Ding Jia." With that, he strode out of the hospital swiftly.
Curled thin and frail on the sofa, Hua Lianxi's scattered hair covered half her delicate face, revealing only a small sliver of her right side. Her long, cane-like right hand hung limply, palm facing down just a few centimeters from the soft carpet. On the carpet lay a white mobile phone, screen facing down, discarded.
Faint moonlight streamed quietly through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows that reflected the desolate silence filling the room. Like a withered spirit curled on the sofa, Hua Lianxi half-closed her eyes. Her hollow gaze weakly fixed on the pale gray night sky outside.
All her waiting, revealed in painstaking detail on the internet stitch by stitch, seemed laughable and tragic. Though knowing it was but a shadow, the powerful photos and descriptive words pierced her chest like arrows. The once-restrained and hidden tears surged forth violently—pain unbearable—yet her eyes dried up without a single tear left.
Kong Chengyi's past—about which she knew nothing—became clearer with the endless streaming news on her phone. In photos tracking his nighttime visits to her boudoir, she slowly understood the nights he spent away from Xiaoyue Residence, the love story she could not have imagined playing vividly in her mind. Mockingly, she had shamelessly imitated some of the seductive moments in his custom-designed timeline. The tenderness she once received was but conditioned reflexes under familiar gestures.
At this moment, she was merely one among millions—remaining tethered to media outlets bursting with fresh scandals every moment, stubbornly refusing to let go despite pain, chasing the story relentlessly day and night.
She always believed that once her strength was spent, she would wake up completely—without any hope or expectation for a hollow future. At that instant, she could decisively discard the heart that had endured all torment entirely.
She blinked faintly. The delicate curve of her lips lifted slightly. Exhausted to the extreme, Hua Lianxi slowly closed her eyes, believing she was utterly drained.
"Snap!" Suddenly, all the lights in the house flickered on, blindingly bright—brighter than daylight. The vast home instantly felt overwhelmingly empty.
The long-silent Xiaoyue Residence was abruptly disturbed by the loud click of lights switching on and the glare of incandescent bulbs. Hua Lianxi, just beginning to drift into a hazy sleep, fluttered her long lashes, her groggy mind unable to make sense of where or when she was.
Then, with force, the divorce agreement was hurled onto her face. Kong Chengyi's face darkened as he said harshly, "Hua Lianxi, even looking at you once too much dirties my eyes. Get out of here immediately!"