Fourteen

In an instant, Zhang Momo’s body went numb, all sensation lost. Only a bittersweet ache remained, surging up and crashing through the defenses she had so stubbornly built around her heart, seeping into every corner of her being, until even her eyes stung with the force of it.

His features were no longer cold or unfeeling; instead, they were filled with helplessness and hope as he gazed at her, unwavering. Just like that autumn a year ago, he too had softened his sharp edges, his eyes tender and indulgent as he said, “Let’s get married.” Behind him, the mountains were ablaze with vibrant red maples, transformed into a warm, gentle sea that seemed as though it could melt even the hardest heart.

Suddenly, in his gaze, she caught a glimpse of her own face—so familiar, yet now a bitter reminder that chased away any fleeting warmth. Momo turned away abruptly, her movements stiff. “This… this was a mistake. It needs to be corrected. I have to make it right…”

“Make it right? And how exactly do you intend to do that?” Xiang Zuo would not let her go. He cupped her face, turning her to face him. “So, you just hand me off to your sister and call that making it right? Did you ever ask me what I wanted? What do you take me for?”

His low, accusing voice, edged with pain, lingered between them like relentless ants gnawing at her heart, impossible to bear.

She could only drop her gaze, staring at the pristine collar of his shirt. After a long silence, she finally mustered the courage to look up, her eyes pleading. “My sister… she’s loved you for so long. And you—she was the one you wanted all along. Isn’t that… isn’t that for the best?”

Her eyes, dewy and lost, brimmed with humility and sorrow, so much so that it could break a person’s heart. At that moment, Xiang Zuo wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to crush her close, to banish every trace of anyone and anything else in her bones, so that her gaze would be as clear and pure as it once was—the way she looked when he first met her.

“And what about you, Momo? What about yourself? What about these eight months we’ve spent together? Where do you plan to put all of that?”

His pressing questions left her flustered, but there was nowhere to hide. She struggled in his grip, but in the next moment, he brought her hands to his chest—broad and burning through the thin fabric of his shirt, the thunderous beat of his heart pulsing beneath.

“I’ve placed it all here. When I was on a business trip in America and heard you’d been in a car accident, do you have any idea how desperate I was? I rushed back, only to find you’d set up this elaborate ruse, a scheme you’d been planning for a long time. Do you know what I felt then? I told myself, ‘Xiang Zuo, don’t be a fool and let yourself be played.’ But then, over and over again, I reasoned with myself: you’d lost all your family, it was only natural for you to seek some support.”

“Look into my eyes and tell me—in these eight months of marriage, have I not cherished you enough? I don’t know how to coax a girl, I’ve never given you flowers, I’ve never said I love you… Even if I haven’t done these things well, what right did you have to decide, on your own, that the person I should be with is your sister?”

A man usually so cold, now spoke words so gentle they struck with devastating force. Zhang Momo could no longer hold back her tears. This man before her—he was the one she had deceived from the very start, the one she had intended to use for her own gain. She shook her head desperately, unable to utter a word.

No, you weren’t inadequate in any way! How could you be? You’ve done everything a good husband could do—more than any husband in the world. In eight months of marriage, he’d never let her frown, never put her in a difficult spot. In moments of intimacy, he’d always been gentle, holding back whenever she was uneasy, whenever she showed even a hint of reluctance. He’d endured it all, even when she used her grief, her guilt, or the vague mention of her late parents as an excuse. Even though they were husband and wife in name only, he never complained, never blamed her. He cared for her with the patience and tenderness one would show a child, waiting for her to heal from the trauma of her accident. What more could a woman ask of a man? What more could a normal man be expected to do?

Yet all of it was a lie. She’d never been real. She was nothing but a fraud.

She shook her head again and again, as if refusing to believe any of it was true, or as if stubbornly denying herself a chance at happiness. “You don’t understand. I have never been myself in this marriage—not once have I been Zhang Momo. I’ve been imitating my sister in everything. If you ever had any feelings for me, even the smallest bit, what you felt was for her.”

“Foolish girl!” He stroked her face, collecting her tears in his hand, hot and full of longing. “Do you really think that’s what love is? That just because you wore her favorite clothes, spoke in her manner, and followed her habits, that’s all there is to it? Even if my first impression of Nianqing was good, the person I decided to marry was you!”

“Zhang Momo, listen to me. I, Xiang Zuo, will be a groom only once in this life, will take only one woman as my bride! That woman is the clumsy girl who, on our first blind date, spilled orange juice all over my shirt and tried to clean it, making it worse until even my pants were ruined; the spoiled child who, whenever her stomach hurt, would whine and cling to my arm, insisting that a bite would make the pain go away; the coward who always started fires and then made up ridiculous excuses to escape responsibility… And do you know why I insisted on meeting ‘Zhang Nianqing’ for that arranged date in the first place…”

“Stop!” Her voice rose suddenly, unable to bear hearing any more. She wrenched herself free from his grasp as if fleeing for her life. “The one who loves you is my sister! From the first time she saw you on a magazine cover five years ago, she’s loved you. Do you know how long she’s loved you? If I hadn’t been careless and caused that accident, my sister would never have ended up in that hospital bed, and you would have been her husband, naturally!”

Her eyes unfocused, Zhang Momo hurriedly grabbed her bag from the floor and turned toward the door. “I have things to do. I’m leaving. Goodbye… No, it’s better if we don’t see each other again!”

She barely made it to the door, trembling, when a powerful force caught her from behind. His grip tightened on her arm, pinning her against the wall. “Ah… What are you doing…” Her heart was in chaos, her fluttering lashes betraying the turmoil she couldn’t put into words.

“Zhang Momo, tell me—can you really pretend these eight months of marriage never happened?”

Xiang Zuo’s face was pale with tension. He looked straight into her eyes, leaving her no room to escape.

“Yes! I can! From the very beginning, I never even saw myself as myself.” Zhang Momo turned her face away. In the silent office, only the sound of two heartbeats echoed.

One second, two seconds. He watched her, but she stared only at the floor… until Xiang Zuo suddenly snatched her purse. Just as she gasped in surprise, unsure what he intended, he had already taken out her phone.

Zhang Momo’s face went ashen. She rose on tiptoe, reaching for it, but no matter how she circled and stretched, Xiang Zuo refused to return it.

Finally, the enlarged screen was held up before her eyes, and her heart hung, suspended in midair…