Chapter 18 — When the Ex Returns

At the very moment the blade was poised to strike, Fu Tu-shen lunged forward to snatch the child away, and Shen Yen-shu immediately pulled the infant into her protective embrace. Yet, before Fu Tu-shen could even draw a breath of relief, Gu Xiao suddenly drew a hidden knife from her sleeve and thrust it violently toward the child’s legs.

No!

Fu Tu-shen’s eyes burned with a frantic, bloodshot intensity as he threw himself bodily into the path of the strike. A sickening thud echoed through the air as the steel blade buried itself deep into his flesh, leaving Gu Xiao momentarily paralyzed by her own shock. Driven by a twisted, crimson-eyed frenzy, she shoved the blade deeper, sinking it a second time.

Fu Tu-shen, it was you who insisted on taking the blow for this bastard child! You brought this death upon yourself! So what if you loved Lin Shi-xia? She would never glance at you again. You were never destined to have your way in this life!

Before Gu Xiao could finish her venomous tirade, the police—alerted by the call Fu Tu-shen had placed earlier—swarmed the scene and pinned her to the ground. Amidst the cacophony of shouts and curses, Fu Tu-shen drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind echoing with the phantom sound of Lin Shi-xia calling his name. He parted his lips, struggling to whisper a final word, before his eyes slowly, heavily drifted shut. In those final seconds, as she leaned close to his ear, Lin Shi-xia could have sworn she heard a faint, broken apology. His life extinguished, caught forever in that singular, tragic moment.

While sorting through Fu Tu-shen’s remaining possessions, Lin Shi-xia discovered a small iron box he had kept hidden away. She could not claim that her heart remained entirely unmoved, yet what she felt was neither love nor hatred, but a profound, hollow ache for a past that had now irrevocably dissolved into history. After attending his funeral, she personally helped the grief-stricken mother of Fu, whose eyes were swollen and raw from weeping, back to her home. Staring at the stark black-and-white photograph resting on the altar, the complex tangle of love and resentment spanning two lifetimes played out before Lin Shi-xia’s eyes. There had been beauty, there had been ruin, moments of agony, and depths of absolute despair. In the end, it all dissolved into a singular, lingering sigh. Lin Shi-xia stepped forward and silently laid a bouquet of chrysanthemums before his headstone.

Fu Tu-shen, may you find peace on your journey.

She turned to leave, and at the edge of the cemetery, her gaze immediately landed on Shen Yen-shu. He stood waiting for her, holding the child in his arms, a gentle smile gracing his face—a look that had not changed since their days in university.

Xia-xia, let us go home.

Lin Shi-xia offered a soft, affirmative murmur. As if remembering something of importance, she paused.

We still need to take our family portrait this week.

Shen Yen-shu reached out, tenderly stroking her hair, his grip on her hand tightening.

Of course. We must all be together, complete and whole.

The sunlight was glorious in that moment. She squeezed the hand of the man she loved, walking with him toward a future filled with promise. There are regrets and surprises in life that cannot be salvaged; once missed, they are lost forever. Yet, all that she could do now was cherish the present and hold tight to the person standing right before her.