Chapter 26: Nothing Feels Right

Then it hit her—Xie Chengyu and Li Jingting were close.

Because of that connection, Lin Yan had actually seen Xie Chengyu more times than she had.

Nan Xiao couldn’t help but let out a bitter little smile. She walked over and said softly, “Yanyan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lin Yan snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just when I finally managed to have dinner with my boyfriend, this so-called ‘little sister’ shows up pretending to be sick and acting all clingy. What a total waste of time. I should’ve checked the almanac before leaving the house.”

Li Jingting’s expression darkened. “So you really can’t stand Jia Yi?”

“Yes, I can’t!” Lin Yan shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Tell me—what woman in her right mind could tolerate some stranger calling herself her sister, no blood ties at all?”

Li Jingting let out a cold scoff. “Then why don’t you go find yourself a brother who isn’t related by blood? Am I stopping you?”

Silence.

One sentence, and Lin Yan went quiet, her face pale as paper.

Right. Li Jingting didn’t love her. He’d never hidden that fact. In truth, she was just like Xiao Xiao—both trapped in the same painful situation.

So what the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Yanyan, don’t cry,” Nan Xiao murmured, gently brushing her fingers through Lin Yan’s hair. She whispered a few words, then turned sharply toward Li Jingting, her voice icy. “She needs rest now. Please leave.”

Li Jingting’s brows knotted together. His face turned dangerous.

He’d met Nan Xiao twice before—once at Xie Chengyu’s wedding, once at the funeral of Old Lady Xie. Back then, she’d seemed timid, quiet, almost invisible—probably because of her disfigurement, too ashamed to speak. But now? Now she stood there like steel, unyielding.

“Who the hell are you to tell me to leave?” he said coldly. “This is my girlfriend’s home.”

Nan Xiao stared straight into his eyes. She wanted to scream: *You call her your girlfriend, yet you hurt her like this!* But the words felt pointless.

She stepped forward, opened the door, and repeated, “Leave. If you don’t, I’ll call the police.”

A beat of silence.

Both Li Jingting and Xie Chengyu looked stunned.

What the hell was going on? This woman wasn’t the same person she used to be.

Though they were both gentlemen, and though their hearts burned with resentment, Nan Xiao had gone this far—there was no way they could stay. They left, faces tight, silent.

Nan Xiao noticed something strange—the way Xie Chengyu had looked at her just now. Cold. Calculating. Different from the past few days.

They weren’t exactly friends, but they weren’t enemies either. Why had he changed toward her?

But she didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she watched as Lin Yan broke down after Li Jingting left—tears spilling down her cheeks in an instant.

And suddenly, Nan Xiao understood, deep in her bones, how Xiao Zekai must’ve felt years ago.

She sighed, stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around Lin Yan’s shoulders. “If you can’t take it anymore… maybe it’s time to walk away.”

Lin Yan lifted her tear-streaked face, eyes wide with shock.

It had been nearly two years. And this was the first time Nan Xiao had ever suggested breaking up.

Nan Xiao hesitated, then said, “Back then, I wouldn’t have said this. But now… I’m getting divorced. I know what it feels like to cut off a rotting piece of flesh from your body. It hurts. God, it hurts so much.”

“But after the pain… comes relief. So I hope you’ll think about it too.”

Another wave of tears fell. Lin Yan clung to her. “Xiao Xiao… you’re the only one who truly cares about me.”

Nan Xiao—so shy, so afraid of confrontation—had just stood up to Li Jingting, told him to leave without flinching. That wasn’t her. Not the Nan Xiao she knew.

Still, she patted Lin Yan’s shoulder, soothing her, while silently deciding to wait until later to tell her about the pregnancy.

An hour later, Nan Xiao left the apartment. As she stepped outside, she froze.

There, leaning against the wall beside the building, stood a tall, sharp silhouette—dark eyes locked onto hers in the dim hallway. The look was unnerving.

She hadn’t expected him to still be there. And certainly not staring at her like that—cold, unreadable, cutting straight through her.

Before she could ask anything, Xie Chengyu grabbed her wrist. “Got something to say,” he muttered, pulling her down the stairs.

*Bang.*

The car door slammed open. He shoved her inside roughly.

Then he slid in himself, closed the door, and fixed her with a gaze so dark it felt like ice.

“You don’t want a divorce?”

“…!”

What kind of question was that?

“No! Absolutely not!” Nan Xiao shot back instantly.

Xie Chengyu didn’t respond. He pulled out his phone, long fingers tapping swiftly. Then, a familiar voice played from the speaker.

Nan Xiao froze.

That was her—talking to Xu Ruoxin. Saying she *didn’t* want to divorce Xie Chengyu.

How did he have this recording?

Her scalp prickled. Her spine turned to ice. The car shrank around her. She couldn’t breathe.

“That was me reacting in anger when Xu Ruoxin provoked me again—accusing me of cheating, trying to ruin me!” Nan Xiao stammered. “I said it just to piss her off! I *do* want a divorce! I swear!”

“And the recording’s incomplete,” she added desperately. “It cuts off the beginning. Just fragments. It’s not the full story!”

She wanted to scream. She hated Xu Ruoxin. She hated whoever had recorded it and sent it to Xie Chengyu. Who was it?

Xie Chengyu sat in the dim light, silhouetted against the window. She couldn’t read his expression. Only that his outline had grown harder, colder.

“Nan Xiao,” he said, voice flat, emotionless. “I don’t care whether you meant it or not. I don’t have the energy—or the interest—to investigate every little detail.”

“I’m just telling you: I’ve already resubmitted the divorce papers. We’ll be divorced in one month.”

No disrespect. No accusation. No venom.

But when she heard those words, a chill ran from the top of her head all the way down to her toes.

She lowered her head, fingers trembling as they gripped the edge of her skirt.

She would’ve preferred him yelling at her. Screaming. Anything but this—this cold indifference. At least then she’d know he still cared enough to hate her.

“I understand,” she whispered. “We’ll be divorced in a month. No mistakes. You can trust me.”

Then she couldn’t take it anymore.

The air grew thinner. The temperature dropped. She couldn’t stay another second.

She yanked open the door and stepped out.

Watching her go, Xie Chengyu slowly let his gaze fade. He started the car and drove back to the office.

Inside his executive suite, he sat at his desk, a stone lodged in his chest. Heavy. Unmovable.

He loosened his tie. Before him lay stacks of French documents—words he could read perfectly, but whose meaning slipped right through his mind.

All he could see was her face—just moments ago, in the hallway.
The way she looked at him.
The way she didn’t flinch.
The way she stood tall, even when broken.