Chapter Thirteen: Fearless

Lu Fengzhou stood by the window, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, yet he hadn’t taken a single drag. A long column of ash trembled at the tip, threatening to fall.

After a moment, the door behind him opened. Song Wan poked her head inside, beaming. “Ah Zhou, it’s getting late. Will you stay here tonight?”

Lu Fengzhou snapped back to reality, opened the window a crack, and flicked the unlit cigarette outside. “No, I still have things to do.”

Song Wan pouted as she stepped into the room, feigning annoyance, though her tone was playful. “So late and you still have things to do? What can’t wait until tomorrow?”

He said nothing. Song Wan came to stand beside him. “The weather forecast says there’ll be a heavy storm tonight. It’s not safe to drive. If it’s not urgent, why not postpone it?”

Lu Fengzhou hesitated. “A storm?”

It had rained yesterday, but it wasn’t much—soon over. He never watched the forecast; with people around him, someone always took care of such things.

Song Wan nodded. “Yes, I just checked.”

Perhaps afraid he wouldn’t believe her, she pulled out her phone, searched for the local forecast, and held the glowing screen up for him to see. “Look.”

Lu Fengzhou didn’t glance at it. His gaze remained fixed outside. The clouds were thick, the moon already smothered.

…

Qiao Jiu returned home in the dead of night. She’d moved again—this time to a place arranged by Guan Wei.

Lu Fengzhou had paid her a visit that morning; by afternoon, she’d packed up and left, brisk and efficient.

She dashed inside just as it began to rain again. Her suitcase stood by the door. She shook the water from her clothes, dragged the luggage in—there wasn’t much inside, just a few changes of clothes and some daily essentials.

Once, she’d been the illustrious heiress of the Qiao family. Now, all her worldly possessions, stuffed into this suitcase, weren’t worth as much as the tips she used to hand out to waiters at dinner.

And all her money—taken by that wretched man and spent on another woman.

After changing her clothes, Qiao Jiu flopped down on the bed and reached for her phone again.

The paparazzi had dug up Lu Fengzhou’s identity. In theory, it shouldn’t have been possible to keep his marriage a secret, yet not a single tabloid mentioned it. Instead, they’d fabricated a romantic, inspiring love story between Lu Fengzhou and some up-and-coming starlet.

Disgusted, Qiao Jiu spat. It was most likely that Lu Fengzhou had paid handsomely to bury the truth. Those eulogies to their so-called love were probably written at his bidding.

Shameless.

She scrolled through the gossip columns and happened upon a piece of fresh news about that starlet.

The filming of her latest series had just wrapped, and she was now back in Yun City.

Lu Fengzhou’s urgent departure earlier today was surely to see her. Qiao Jiu gave a cold, humorless smile.

She’d scarcely sat down before the rain outside turned into a torrential downpour. Qiao Jiu hurried to shut the window, but just as her hand touched the latch, thunder crashed so suddenly that she flinched.

A flash of lightning split the horizon. Qiao Jiu lifted her eyes, expressionless, then closed and locked the window, drawing the curtains tight.

The night her mother died, there had been a ferocious thunderstorm. For years afterward, she’d been haunted by fear of storms, helpless whenever thunder broke.

But after divorcing Lu Fengzhou, she found she could endure this weather.

Her father was dead. Lu Fengzhou had left. No one was there to cover her ears anymore, no arms left to shield her from the world.

You see, those who have lost everything learn quickly. They become fearless.