Chapter 25: An Unacceptable Truth

“Besides, Shengyu and I are legally married. What are you, exactly?”
“You’re nothing but a third party by social standards! Who do you think you are to judge me?”
*Ha.* You’re finally showing your true colors, aren’t you? Deep down, you never wanted to leave Shengyu at all.” Xu Ruoxin sneered.

Nan Xiao didn’t know whether she was genuinely this stupid—or just deliberately saying these things to piss her off.
But she suspected the latter. Xu Ruoxin wasn’t dumb. She was sharp as a knife—just knew how to play the helpless little girl in front of men.

So Nan Xiao said, “Why would I want to leave Xie Chengyu? He’s such a good man. After divorce, where else am I going to find someone like him?”

“You’re really furious, aren’t you?” she continued, mocking. “Too bad. You’re just an actress from the bottom rung. Your grandfather never respected you.”

“No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be part of the Xie family. All you can do is sneak around behind people’s backs, playing mistress.”

“And what good is that? Dare you call Xie Chengyu ‘husband’ on set? Dared you say it right in front of his grandfather?”

“Go ahead—try calling him that in front of the Xies. See if anyone even answers. Let me tell you: no one will. They’ll laugh at you. You’ll look like a pathetic little clown.”

…

She’d finally let it all out.

It wasn’t really what she believed—but Xu Ruoxin had gone too far. Every time she showed up to torment Nan Xiao, she’d imagined some other woman, just as sharp-tongued, standing there pointing at Xu Ruoxin and screaming back.

Now, she was that woman. And damn, it felt *good*.

Across from her, Xu Ruoxin’s face had gone pale. The elegant composure she’d carefully maintained crumbled. Her nostrils flared, fists clenched so tight her knuckles turned white—on the edge of exploding.

“You’ve finally dropped the act, haven’t you? Now that Chengyu isn’t here, you show your real self?”

Nan Xiao gave a dry chuckle.

For business confidentiality, she’d installed a detector near the door of her dressing room. If anyone came in with a bug, it would beep. That’s why she’d dared speak so freely.

“What’s wrong? You’re losing all shame now?” Xu Ruoxin snapped when Nan Xiao stayed silent.

“Xu Ruoxin,” Nan Xiao said coldly, “the one without shame is *you*.”

It felt satisfying to fight back—but keeping it up got boring fast.

She walked to the door, opened it, and looked straight at Xu Ruoxin. “This is my private space. Please leave. Next time, knock.”

Xu Ruoxin glared at her like a cornered animal, then smoothed her big waves with a practiced flick of her fingers. Calm returned to her face. She lifted her chin and swept out, regal and icy.

In the shadowed hallway beyond, a man stood still, replaying the words he’d just heard: *“Why would I want to leave Xie Chengyu? He’s such a good man…”* His expression darkened. Cold settled in his eyes.

He pulled out his phone, sent the recording to Xie Chengyu, then closed it.

Ten minutes later, he slid into the car downstairs. His phone buzzed—screen flashing “Chengyu.”

He answered. “Hello?”

“Jingting.” Xie Chengyu greeted him first. “You’re back?”

Yesterday, Li Jingting had taken Chen Jiayi back to his hometown. That’s why he asked.

Li Jingting leaned back against the leather seat, his sharp jawline shadowed in darkness. He nodded once. Lit a cigarette with one hand, took a slow drag. “Never thought your wife was hiding so deep.”

A beat passed. The voice on the other end dropped several degrees colder. “Neither did I.”

“So what’s your move?” Li Jingting asked. “Going to confront her?”

“Yeah.”

Hearing that, Li Jingting relaxed.

Xie Chengyu was always too loyal to his grandparents. A man who didn’t believe in gods—yet three years ago, he’d agreed to a fake marriage for a wedding ceremony.

For years, Li Jingting had worried he’d stay with Nan Xiao out of guilt. But now, seeing him so clear-eyed? He could finally breathe easy.

On the other end, Xie Chengyu replayed the audio again and again. His brow furrowed deeper each time.

He stood by the window, staring at the bright sky outside—but his mood was heavy, black, like being sucked into a swirling void. Frustrated. Trapped.

After a long silence, he dialed Nan Xiao’s number. Then, just before it rang, he hung up.

Meanwhile, after kicking Xu Ruoxin out, Nan Xiao felt the familiar wave of nausea rise again.

But she’d already emptied her stomach hours ago. Now her stomach was hollow—she just gagged over the toilet bowl until her throat burned.

When she finally straightened up, she started to leave the bathroom—then froze.

Today was the 19th. And her period hadn’t come. Not for days. Not for weeks.

She’d been feeling off lately—nausea, bloating, appetite bigger than usual.

Over a month ago, she and Xie Chengyu had made love in the old house. No protection. And afterward, she’d forgotten to take the pill.

All the signs pointed to one terrifying truth.

Nan Xiao stood frozen in the doorway, cold sweat prickling her skin. She couldn’t accept it. Not yet.

Finally, she called Lin Yan. “Can you come with me to the hospital?”

No answer.

She hung up, swallowed hard, and went alone.

An hour later, she stepped out of the clinic, pale as paper.

She stood on the sidewalk, clutching a thin pregnancy test slip in her trembling hands. Her mind was blank—full of fear, confusion, dread.

Her fingers instinctively brushed her lower abdomen. She still couldn’t believe it. But it was real.

She didn’t know if she wanted this child. Didn’t know what to do next.

Then her phone buzzed.

Lin Yan:
“Xiaoxiao, I didn’t check my phone earlier. Today I went out with Li Jingting. Midway, Chen Jiayi showed up and ruined everything—we fought.”

Nan Xiao nearly dropped her phone. “What?! Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m home now. Still arguing with Li Jingting. I’m fine.”

“Oh—wait, why did you call?”

Lin Yan sounded annoyed, but not seriously hurt.

Still, Nan Xiao couldn’t shake the image of them tangled together. She typed: “Are you at home? Should I come over?”

“Sure. Come on.”

She hailed a cab and headed to Lin Yan’s apartment. She had her fingerprint access—no need to knock.

She stepped inside the sleek, minimalist living room—and froze.

Lin Yan sat stiffly on a single sofa, face stone-cold.

And on the double couch? Two men.

Li Jingting. And Xie Chengyu.

Nan Xiao’s breath caught in her throat.