Please provide the text you would like me to translate.

She groped for her phone in her pocket, gazing at the keypad, struggling for a long time; she needed to call Nianqing. After the divorce, how was she supposed to go on with her life? As she was still wavering, unable to make up her mind, there came another knock at the door.

“I say, your tongue is still intact, right?” Song Jiakai’s concerned yet irreverent tone drifted in. Zhang Momo smiled with a touch of melancholy—amid this boundless, endless chill, at least there was a wisp of spring by her side. This warmth, this knowing smile—how precious they were, who but those who have braved the harshest winters could understand?

For a moment, strength seemed to return to her body; she rose from the floor, took a deep breath, opened the door and shot him a glare, sticking out her tongue. “Still there.”

When the two returned to the dining table, only a tableful of dishes remained.

“Mom and Dad finished eating. They told you to take your time—there’s plenty of crab left.” He looked at her with a teasing smile. Once again, Zhang Momo fell into the abyss of self-reproach. Suddenly she felt disheartened—her first time meeting her boyfriend’s parents and she’d left the impression of a glutton. How was she supposed to get along with them in the future?

Fortunately, girls are resilient. Climbing out of the abyss, she dusted herself off, ready to face the world again. Being a bit greedy only proved she was healthy! “Take your time eating, I’m going out to make a call,” she said, and slipped out to the Song family’s garden.

It was a pitch-black, bitterly cold winter night, and the wind was fierce. Zhang Momo looked around, found a spot behind a low-lit stone post, and crouched down. The screen of her phone lit up and dimmed, dimmed and was lit again, over and over—yet she still didn’t know what to say to Nianqing. “Congratulations on your divorce”? “Want to move back in”? “How is Xiang Zuo these days”? “Is he doing well”…?

The more she thought, the more absurd it seemed! With a snap, Zhang Momo shut her phone. What exactly did she want to say? In the freezing air, her body stiffened from the cold, yet she couldn’t come up with a single decent line. Her heart was in turmoil when faint footsteps approached. She was just about to get up when she froze.

“Old Song, Minister Fan has been transferred back to the Central Bank. Last time he said we should have dinner together when there’s time. Looks like he still has his mind on pairing Tingting with our Jiakai. Frankly, Tingting is a good kid. She used to come to our house all the time in high school—probably had a crush on Jiakai back then. What do you think, Jiakai brings a girlfriend home right now—could he be trying to show us up?”

“Show us what!” The elderly, deep voice held a hint of displeasure. “Don’t meddle. Kids should choose their own partners. Has our son ever brought a girl home before? You kept telling him to find a proper girlfriend, now he brings one and you’re suspicious. Didn’t you see at dinner? He was about ready to dig out his heart and serve it to her with the crab.”

The man’s voice was stern, but the woman’s voice rose in laughter. “Honestly, Jiakai has good taste. I like this girl too. She’s pretty, and she’s got a generous spirit! Poor thing, with all that’s happened in her family, and yet she doesn’t show a trace of self-pity.”

“You like her?” The man’s humorless voice sounded again. “If you like her, why did you trick her with the crab?”

Zhang Momo’s heart skipped a beat. Did they put a laxative in the crab?

There was no time to imagine more sinister possibilities like poison; the woman’s laughter grew even more delighted. “If I hadn’t let her eat the crab, how could we see that she’s genuine and unpretentious? Besides, when I first met my mother-in-law, wasn’t I just as foolish, tricked into shelling crab? It’s a Song family tradition for sizing up a daughter-in-law…”

Stories of crabs and daughters-in-law drifted away on the cold night wind as the pair walked off. Zhang Momo stood there for a long time, fists clenched, unable to get up. No wonder Song Jiakai was always so irreverent—he’d inherited it. With parents who set crab traps for others, it was no small feat that he’d managed to keep Hangyuan afloat all these years!

By the time she returned home, it was nearly ten. The two had left the Song house shortly after eight, but had dawdled and lingered, letting time slip by unnoticed. Downstairs, they debated whether Song Jiakai should go up with her, tangling over the question for ages. Unable to reach a decision, Zhang Momo finally pushed open the car door and pointed to the trunk. “There’s a case of mineral water in there—do you take me for a fool?” Only then did she manage to stifle Song Jiakai’s pitiful plea to “come up for a drink.”

“Momo!” Song Jiakai still followed her out of the car, his face wearing a mischievous grin of high wattage. “Don’t you think you owe me something?” He reached for her lips with his fingers. Zhang Momo blushed, instinctively glancing around—and then, suddenly, she was rooted to the spot, her heart stopped.

Through the darkness, Xiang Zuo strode toward them. The travel-worn man brought the chill of the lonely night with him; his face was pallid—whether from the cold or from waiting, she could not tell. Song Jiakai, following her gaze, glanced over; the spring warmth had not faded from his face when Xiang Zuo drew near.

Momo felt her arm seized, and in the next instant she was pulled back two steps. Without a word, Xiang Zuo dragged her and stuffed her into his car. The door slammed shut. Song Jiakai raced over, but before he could utter a word, Xiang Zuo swung a fist at his face. Whether it was pent-up rage or something deeper, all of it exploded in that blow. Momo nearly cried out. Xiang Zuo didn’t linger; he dashed to the driver’s seat and got in.

Zhang Momo had barely opened the car door, intending to get out, when the car shot forward like an arrow. The sudden movement left her half out of the car. In the chaos, Xiang Zuo reached out and grabbed her arm. “Close the door!”

Behind them, Song Jiakai scrambled to his feet and hurried to his own car; inside, Zhang Momo was about to wrest control of the steering wheel.

“Xiang Zuo, what are you doing?”

She managed only that one sentence before she dared not open her eyes again. She didn’t know what had gotten into this usually steady man—he was driving like a madman on an F1 track. She didn’t even have time to fasten her seatbelt; everything outside was a blur, flying past at an unbelievable speed. The weight of catastrophe from a year ago came crashing back into her memory. At this point she dared not protest—all she wanted to say was, “Slow down! There’s no rush!”

Even when Song Jiakai’s car was no longer in their rearview, Xiang Zuo still refused to slow down, as if this reckless speed was a way to vent his agitation. When he finally stopped, they were in front of a villa at Lake Court. Momo was pale as death, her hands trembling.

“I’ve waited for you all night.” In a haze, she heard Xiang Zuo say this. Fighting down the queasy churning in her stomach, she covered her mouth and waved her hand. “Unlock the door—I’m going to be sick!”

In the end, she didn’t throw up. She crouched by the car for a long while before finally wrestling the suffocation down and standing up, leaning on the car. “Are you crazy?!” Once the dizziness passed, all her anger returned; but Xiang Zuo was now calm.

“I am crazy.” His voice was even, but his actions were relentless; he seized her hand and dragged her into the villa, ignoring her desperate struggle, his grip on her wrist so tight it burned. “Only a madman, because you once said you liked Lake Court, would rush to buy a house here, waiting to move in with you. Only a madman, not wanting you to feel an ounce of discomfort, would wait until you finally divorced before daring to seek you openly. Only a madman would wait all night downstairs while you were flirting with another man! Zhang Momo, you…”

He could not go on. He gazed at her, his eyes red and swollen with longing. This man, always so resolute and decisive, now showed for the first time a vulnerability that bordered on defeat. The longing was written clear between his sharply defined brows, but when Momo met his eyes, it was like a needle driving deep into her heart.

It hurt. Momo closed her eyes slowly. Everything in this house—every single thing—was to her taste. She could not bear to look; each glance only brought more pain. She dared not look into his eyes; each look only led her further astray. “What good does it do to say these things now?” Her voice was weak, tinged with resignation; she didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself or him.

What good did it do? The divorce had come too late. If only it had been six months earlier—how wonderful that would have been! Back then, she was still lost in the blissful fantasy of being loved, like a princess who never imagined her dream would shatter; her sister had not yet been driven to despair by this man, nor had she stopped speaking to her; her family’s print shop was still their own, not on the brink of bankruptcy; Uncle Hu was still a shareholder in Dongyin, vice chairman of the entrepreneurs’ association, and had not yet been implicated by that awkward role as intermediary; Song Jiakai was just a bystander, not yet a part of her life…

Their love had come too soon, and too late, never in the right moment. So the two of them stood in silence; he watched her profile, while she dared not look at him even once.

At last, Xiang Zuo admitted defeat. His strong, warm hand loosened from her wrist and gripped her shoulder, turning her toward him. “This house has been waiting for its mistress for so long. When you hurt your leg, I finished setting it up. I never moved in; I was waiting for today. Momo, every promise I made to you, not one has changed…”

“Xiang Zuo!” She could not bear to hear more, cutting him off mercilessly. “Right now…all I feel is that I’ve let you down. I have no other thoughts.”

His hand on her shoulder stiffened for a moment; Momo’s heart clenched with it.

“I’m sorry…” she murmured, turning her face away to gaze at the light brown hardwood floor. She had disliked the dark, cold marble of the original house, so he had changed it to this light brown wood… She had promised herself not to look, yet she could not help herself. She slowly withdrew from his arms, and just as she was about to turn away, she almost whispered, “I’ve lost my memory. Did you forget…”

“Lost your memory?” The sudden, sharp question came at her ear. Before Momo could reach the door handle, he pressed her against the dark red door. The arms she’d just escaped enveloped her shoulders once more, tighter this time, as if to squeeze her very soul. On Xiang Zuo’s face, she could read nothing—not anger, not joy—only those burning eyes pinning her down, leaving her not even a breath of space.

A helpless yet dazzling smile curled at his lips, driving her to despair. “Let’s see…if you’ve really lost your memory…”

Before the words faded, his kiss crashed down. Momo never expected he could change so suddenly; her mind spun as his forceful invasion left her flustered, her hands pushing futilely at his chest. He was oblivious, tangled with her lips and tongue; all resistance was powerless. That resentful kiss burned their hearts to ashes. Only when a drop of scalding tear fell between them did he finally relent, lingering in gentle apology, unable to harden his heart…

“Momo,” he pressed his forehead to hers, his hoarse voice trembling, “do you know how I’ve lived these past months? Every day, I wanted—wanted to see you. But I was afraid—afraid you’d suffer, trapped in Nianqing’s obsession… Momo, how could you be so cruel…”

He sighed, tenderly cupping her face, his caress full of longing. “Tell me, what do you want from me? I truly don’t know what else I can give you…”

She shook her head, weeping, tears sliding down her cheeks. “We can’t go back, Xiang Zuo. We can’t! How am I supposed to find happiness while Nianqing suffers in her bitterness? I don’t care what you did to me, but Uncle Hu—what about everything that innocent old man suffered? How can I face you with such guilt? I’m not as strong as you—I hurt, I get disappointed. I’m with Song Jiakai now. We really…can’t go back.”

Xiang Zuo sighed. “What if I told you that all that happened to Dongyin before was connected to your Uncle Hu?”

“Impossible!” Momo finally met his eyes, her gaze filled with pain and despair. “Xiang Zuo, why do you keep fixating on Uncle Hu? When my grandfather was alive, Uncle Hu helped Dongyin so much. When the factory was in crisis, he sold his magazine and poured all his savings into saving Dongyin—since then, he’s been a shareholder. Bringing down the factory does him no good! Don’t use him as a scapegoat. If you can forgive me, why can’t you spare an innocent bystander?”

For the first time, Xiang Zuo felt utterly powerless before a person and a situation. His palm broke out in a sweat; he had so much to say, but could only manage a bitter smile. “Momo, one day, you’ll understand.”

“I don’t want to understand!” Momo lifted her face, tear-streaked but stubborn, making one wonder whether to pity or resent her. “Xiang Zuo, there’s really no need for you to do anything more for me.”

Perhaps their marriage had always been tainted with interests, which made it come so easily. Now, he truly wished she could see all that stood behind him—be it material things or wealth. Even if just for these, if she would only nod, he’d give all willingly!

But she wouldn’t look; she even begrudged him a glance.

“Xiang Zuo, we both need a reason to live anew. Your love is too heavy—I can’t bear it. I’m just an ordinary woman, wanting only a simple love. Please forget me; don’t be entangled in the past any longer!”

His eyes turned cold, fixing on her in silence for a long while. “Do you really like him?”

Momo didn’t want to hesitate, but when she saw the pain flicker in his eyes, she faltered and her voice broke, though her words were clear. “I really like him. With him, I’m happy!”

As she put her hand on the door handle to leave, her fingers ached. She knew he was watching her, but she dared not look back. What she owed him, she could never repay in a lifetime. That night, the sky was thick with stars, low and bright, blinking down their chill. In the confusion of night, there was air everywhere, but no oxygen—the breaths in her lungs lifeless. She hadn’t imagined that after truly letting go, the world would feel so much heavier than she’d thought.

She walked for a long time, yet felt no fatigue. Only when Song Jiakai’s car appeared in her sight did she realize how much time had passed. He rushed over, anger barely contained, and wanted to drag her back to confront Xiang Zuo. But Momo held his arm.

“It’s over, all of it. From now on, there will be no more entanglements…”

As she spoke, there seemed to be a fleeting glimmer at the corner of her eye, but she…