Chapter 7 You guys really have guts

The air seemed frozen.

Nan Xiao’s knees pressed into his hard abdomen, one hand braced against his solid chest, the other clamped over his eyes. She hovered above him, breathing shallowly, her body trembling slightly.

She’d been about to get off him right away—but then he suddenly barked, “Don’t move.”

And she froze.

Now, her mind was still foggy, her heart a little bruised.

It was *her* who’d been knocked headfirst into the wall. It was *her* skin, bare and exposed, that had prickled with goosebumps from the cold air.

She hadn’t taken advantage. She’d only wanted to leave—quickly, quietly.

Why had he yelled at her?

She bit her lower lip, just slightly. She couldn’t let him intimidate her like this.

Softly, she said, “Close your eyes. I’ll be gone in a second.”

She lifted her hand cautiously. He kept his eyes shut tight, lashes fluttering, jaw clenched. Without hesitation, she slid off him and bolted toward the bedroom, heels clicking like a panicked drumbeat.

On the floor, Xie Chengyu lay gasping for breath.

He heard the sharp *thud* of the bedroom door slamming shut. Pushing himself up on the floorboards, he looked down at his lap—and his face darkened.

Inside the bedroom, Nan Xiao fought to steady her racing heart as she pulled on her clothes. Then she adjusted her mask with careful precision.

Checking herself in the mirror, satisfied everything was in place, she finally stepped out.

She’d spoken with the doctor. Her face was healed—but the new skin was too delicate to face the air yet. Three months. That’s how long she’d have to wear the mask.

Back in the living room, seeing Xie Chengyu again felt awkward. Awkward as hell.

They’d been married for three years, and he’d never once come home. Now, after all this time, he showed up—only to walk in on *this*. Both of them were stiff with discomfort.

Nan Xiao turned away, pretending to examine the bookshelf. “What are you doing here?” she asked, voice casual.

“Moving stuff,” he replied flatly.

She blinked.

Before she could ask what kind of stuff, Xie Chengyu spotted the open suitcase on the bedroom floor. His gaze snapped to her.

“You’re leaving?”

She nodded. A bitter taste lingered in her mouth.

If they were divorcing, what right did she have to stay?

Xie Chengyu said, “Didn’t you read the divorce papers? The house is yours.”

Her breath caught.

“No way,” she stammered. “That’s… too much.”

The house was worth 150 million. She’d never earn that in a lifetime.

And besides, the Xie family had already given her more than enough. Holding onto so much wealth felt like clutching hot coals.

He gave her a strange look.

In their world, when couples split—man or woman—the weaker party always clawed every last cent from the other. Why was she giving in so easily?

“Don’t overthink it,” he said, voice colder now. “Take it. You’re getting it.”

Years at the top had made his tone absolute—no room for argument.

She’d almost argued back.

But then she thought: For three years, *she* was the only one living here. Every corner held traces of her life. After this, Xie Chengyu would never come back. So letting her keep the house wasn’t just generosity—it was closure.

Her eyes dropped.

“Then go ahead and pack,” she said. “I’m going out.”

When they’d married, the Xie household staff had brought over a few of his personal items. Not many. He’d probably finish in no time. Nan Xiao planned to take a walk, then come back later.

Watching her leave, Xie Chengyu’s gaze stayed locked on her back for a long moment before finally shifting away.

She wore that mask all the time. When he looked at her, his eyes always drifted to her face—specifically, her eyes.

They were always full, deep, shimmering—like pools that pulled you in without warning.

Then, suddenly, he remembered the collision—warm, soft, fragrant flesh pressed against his chest. The slick glide of her hand across his skin. His body heated instantly. His stomach tightened.

He muttered under his breath, grabbed an old set of clothes from the closet—left behind three years ago—and stormed into the bathroom for a cold shower.

Outside, Nan Xiao wandered around the garden, lost in thought. Her phone buzzed.

She answered.

On the other end, Old Master Xie was furious.

“You little fool! What were you thinking?! Get back here *now!*”

She didn’t understand why, but she obeyed anyway and headed straight to the ancestral estate.

For three years, Old Master Xie had treated her well—bought her gifts, protected her when her stepmother and stepsister had shown up at the villa in a rage.

When she arrived, she found him sitting rigidly in the armchair, glaring at her like she’d committed treason.

Before she could speak, he slammed his hand on the armrest.

“You two have *no idea* what you’ve done! You dare to divorce?! I’ve already sent someone to cancel your application at the registry! You’re not leaving the Xie family. That little actress—姓许—she’s *not* stepping foot through our gates.”