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For a long time after that day, Zhang Momo could not figure out how to face Xiang Zuo. There were so many things she wanted to say, yet none she could utter; she could not even summon the courage to stand before him. In the latest issue of Finance magazine, that man occupied the entire cover: “Top Ten Young Entrepreneurs—Xiang Zuo, Chairman of Shenglian Group.” He stood by his office window, the photograph capturing him in profile as he gazed into the far-off blue sky and drifting white clouds. The still image lent his features an even more striking, heroic cast; his hair was cropped so short and neat it made her heart race.

So once again, the agonized question from that post—“Do they think all investors are fools, or is their backing so strong they’re unafraid of exposure?”—flashed before her eyes. She could not tell whether this incident would be discovered, nor how dire the consequences might be. But whatever happened, this sort of thing should never, absolutely never, be associated with a “Top Ten Young Entrepreneur.”

Zhang Momo held that magazine for a long time, finally gathering the courage to let her fingers trace slowly over the bridge of his nose; stroke by stroke, following the contours, she could scarcely breathe. This man, with all his excellence and brilliance, had the power to claim a beautiful, boundless future—like the sky he was gazing into! Not to be dragged into a lawsuit by a fool whose nude photos had been spread everywhere, a liar who happened to be the twin sister of his ex-wife, someone who could only bring him shame and ridicule.

For the first time, Zhang Momo sought out Xiang Zuo. She did not dare go directly to his office; after thinking about it all day, she chose instead to wait for him in the parking garage. But as rush hour faded and most people had already left the building, she sat alone in the silent garage and began to regret it.

The dim, empty lot was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat; and then she remembered that day, when she slashed his tires with a knife, and a bitter pang welled up within her, making her heart race in this cold, lonely, enclosed space.

When Xiang Zuo emerged, she was leaning against the front of his car. His footsteps were unusually firm, each one seeming to land upon her heart. She panicked, while he seemed to understand everything; whether he’d prepared himself for this meeting or had already guessed she would come, she could not say. Watching him approach, Zhang Momo could hardly recall the lines she’d rehearsed so many times.

“Could you… from now on, please stop doing anything for me?” she finally managed to say, just barely remembering the one most important sentence.

“I’d rather like to know what more I could do for you,” Xiang Zuo replied, calm and matter-of-fact. “Have you forgotten the promise I made you when we married…”

“Enough!” Zhang Momo could not endure this torment, and interrupted him loudly, stepping back two paces. “I don’t need you to keep any promises, I don’t even remember them anymore! I only ask you, please, stop concerning yourself with me. You are you, I am me—we’re not even family anymore. If this keeps up, what will people think…”

What would people think? The chairman showing such unusual devotion to his former sister-in-law?

“People? Do you mean Song Jiakai?” Xiang Zuo’s piercing gaze fixed on her face, all the satisfaction of their first meeting now turned into heavy resignation. “You don’t owe him anything, Zhang Momo. Whatever you once thought you owed him—now, you don’t owe him a thing! In fact, he should only be grateful to you…”

Zhang Momo felt dizzy—what was he saying? But Xiang Zuo stopped abruptly, his eyes riveted to her left hand. “What is that?!”

The sharp question rang out in the vast garage, echoing in the emptiness. Even though Zhang Momo had tried to prepare herself, her heart still pounded wildly. On the ring finger of her left hand was a diamond ring, its myriad facets sparkling brilliantly in the dimness.

Startled by his question, all her doubts from a moment ago vanished without a trace. She mumbled, “Someone proposed to me.” She lowered her head, not daring to meet his eyes; her voice grew softer and softer. She had planned to say this boldly, but in the moment, her courage deserted her. Yet it didn’t matter whether she lost her composure or the upper hand—what mattered was that she had said what she came to say, shown him what she came to show.

As she darted into her car and sped away from the parking garage, Zhang Momo caught one last glimpse of Xiang Zuo in her rearview mirror. He was still standing there, staring straight in the direction she had fled. She had not expected it would be so easy to leave, but the truth was, ever since she’d uttered those words—“Someone proposed to me”—Xiang Zuo hadn’t moved an inch. Even as she turned out of the garage, his figure remained motionless in the darkness, tall and still as a statue of clay: strong, but so very fragile.