Jiang Meilin walked over and hauled the door open.

She looked up at him, and her voice was cold. "Chen Hansong, have you lost your mind?!"

"I—!"

There was a rush of feeling in Chen Hansong's voice. "Meilin, let's remarry!"

The sentence came down like a bolt of lightning, striking Jiang Meilin square in the heart with no warning at all.

She froze on the spot.

In all the years since the divorce there had been no shortage of men after Jiang Meilin, and the reason she had never remarried was that she had been waiting for exactly this sentence.

But somehow.

At this moment, hearing it, the only thing Jiang Meilin felt was — wronged.

She was one woman on her own. After the divorce, to give Chen Qingqing a better environment to grow up in, she had been unable to set her work aside, and over these years she had needed to keep on top of the job — often shuttling between two provinces in a single day — while also worrying about Chen Qingqing. Worrying about whether she was eating three proper meals. Worrying about whether she was frightened sleeping alone at home. Worrying about whether not having a single friend was going to do something to her mind.

On countless sleepless nights, alcohol was the only way Jiang Meilin had to numb herself — and nobody knew about it except her assistant.

"Chen Hansong, what do you take me for? You think you can say divorce and it's divorce, say remarry and it's remarry?!"

Jiang Meilin's eyes went red at once. Her hands were clenched tight, her nails driving into her own palms, and she couldn't feel a thing.

Looking at those red eyes, Chen Hansong felt the sting of it again. He didn't defend himself. He only lowered his head and said, "I'm sorry."

Jiang Meilin had been waiting a very long time for those words. What she hadn't expected was for Chen Hansong to say them on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival. She struck out at him, hard, one blow after another, and…