Chapter 7 — Marriage Is A Trap

"Sister Ly, I have a question. There is someone named Chu Loi around you, right?"

"Chu Loi? You know, he's the secretary of the general manager's office. What's wrong?"

“How normal is the relationship between him and Luc Canh Tham?”

“Chu Loi and Luc Canh Tham?”

The other end of the line burst into laughter.

"Those two people don't get along at all. If there was a problem with Luc Canh Tham's project, it was Chu Loi who reported it to the boss first. Don't you know?"

"Don't know."

I looked at the flow of people passing by outside the car window.

"Luc Canh Tham and I are divorced."

Ms. Ly's voice immediately rose.

“Are you really divorced?”

“Miss Ly, do me a favor.”

“You say it.”

“The batch of books Chu Loi bought… did he want to buy them himself, or did someone tell him to buy them?”

"Let me ask. I have something to tell you."

Half an hour later, Ms. Ly called back.

"To Niem, you can ask. That batch of books was not what Chu Loi wanted to buy, but was requested by the company's new investor."

"They said it was used to build corporate culture, but they specifically told us to buy this book."

“Who are the new investors?”

I tightened my grip on the phone, not immediately speaking. He bought the magazine I used to work for. The company under him invested in my ex-husband's company. He's looking for me. And all of this... happened in just one short week. What kind of chess game is that man playing? In the evening, I returned to my newly rented apartment alone. Forty square meters. One living room, one bedroom. Twenty square meters smaller than Luc Canh Tham's house. But very clean. I sat in front of my desk and opened my computer. The number in the royalty account quietly lies there. 17,320,000 yuan. I spent six years, writing four books, and doing countless private consulting sessions to earn this money. Luc Canh Tham even died without knowing. I turned off my account page and opened a new book manuscript. The last chapter hasn't been written yet. The title is:

“When a Marriage Comes to an End.”

I started typing.

“A lot of people ask me, after studying marriage for so many years, is my own marriage happy?”

“My answer is: that marriage taught me a whole lesson about unhappiness.”

“And those lessons… are more valuable than any textbook.”

After writing this paragraph, my phone lit up. An unknown number sent a text message.

"Miss To, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm Co Dien. I won't go through anyone else to find you anymore. Next Saturday, I'll come to the book signing. Not as a cooperation partner, but as a reader. If you agree to say just one sentence to me that day, I'll be satisfied. —— Co Dien."

I stared at that message for a long time. Then put the phone down next to the pillow. Outside the window, the city lights glowed like falling stars on the ground. The three-year marriage is over. A new life... It seems to be knocking on the door. There are two more days until the book signing. When Lam Kha sent me the final process, she also sent a message:

"Miss To, Thanh Tay bookstore said the pre-order tickets have been sold out. 300 tickets. There are also more than forty media units asking for interviews."

Three hundred tickets. For an author who has never appeared, this number surprised me a bit.

“Refused all media interviews.”

“All of it?”

“All of them. But allow them to be present.”

I looked at the schedule on the screen.

"Only Photos allowed, no interviews.”

“There's one more thing. Change the topic of the sharing session.”

“Change it to what?”

“100 Truths of a Divorced Woman.”

Lam Kha was silent for three seconds.

“Miss To… are you going to make your marriage public?”

“I have written four books teaching others to keep their marriages.”

I leaned back in the chair.

“Now I'm divorced again.”

“If I don't say it myself, sooner or later someone else will.”

“In that case, it's better to let me tell it myself.”

“But readers will probably…”

I smiled softly.

“A marriage expert whose marriage failed, and one who truly dared to face his failures…”

“Who do you think readers would want to hear more?”

Lam Kha did not object anymore. That afternoon, I went to the bookstore to check out the location. The space is not big. Three hundred chairs arranged neatly in rows.