Chapter 7 — Yin-Yang Contract

The path was one he had chosen himself. The bitterness of it was something he deserved to taste. Once all the chaotic affairs had finally been settled, Lu Canh Tham made a definitive choice. He temporarily suspended all his business operations back home, packing up our lives to move our son and me to a tranquil coastal city abroad. In his own words: "I want to take you and our child far away from all this gossip and turmoil, give you a completely new environment, and let us start over."

We settled into a charming white house with a sprawling courtyard, where opening the windows immediately treated us to an endless expanse of deep blue sea. Lu Canh Tham seemed determined to make up for every single way he had fallen short in the past, practically taking over all household responsibilities. He learned how to change diapers and mix formula for our baby. Whenever our son cried in the middle of the night, he was invariably the first one to wake up. He accompanied me to the supermarket, strolled with me along the shoreline, and watched countless sunrises and sunsets by my side. He was no longer the aloof, untouchable corporate titan of the Lu Group; he was simply my husband, and the father of our little boy.

One late afternoon, we sat together on the warm sand, watching the dying sun paint the ocean surface in shimmering gold. Our son rested peacefully in my arms, fast asleep. Without warning, Lu Canh Tham pulled me tightly into his embrace, resting his chin on top of my head as he spoke in a low, trembling voice.

"Van Van, there is something... I have always wanted to tell you."

"What is it?"

"About the 'white moonlight'."

My heart skipped a beat. The woman who had passed away—the one who had lingered in the deepest recesses of his heart long before I ever married him. The very same woman An Ky had once claimed was the sole reason he had ever married me, simply because I possessed a face resembling hers.

"An Ky was right." Lu Canh Tham's voice carried a bitter self-reproach. "In the beginning, the only reason I noticed you was indeed because you looked so much like her."

My heart sank heavily into my chest.

"At that time, she had just passed away, and I was still completely trapped in the past. Catching sight of you felt like grabbing onto a straw of hope while drowning."

"And so, I used every means possible to marry you."

He paused, tightening his arms around me even further.

"I was despicable... wasn't I?"

I did not answer, choosing instead to listen in silence.

"But Van Van, people change."

"Every single day I spent by your side, I found myself drawn to you. You were kind, resilient, and brilliant. Gradually, I realized that the person I had fallen in love with was no longer a face from the past."

"I love you, Lam Van—you are unique and irreplaceable."

"I was afraid. I was terrified that if you ever discovered the truth, you would walk away from me. That was why I desperately tried to bury you in material things, offering you everything within my power, trying to compensate for the flaw hidden in my conscience."

"Until that very day... when I watched you standing entirely alone, handling every crisis with such calm composure, crushing the people who had wronged you and rising triumphantly from the ashes."

"That was when I finally understood that you had never been anyone's shadow. You are stronger than anyone else, more radiant than anyone else."

He gently cupped my face, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.

"I am so sorry for letting you endure so much grievance and pain."

"From this day forward, I will never let anyone... ever hurt you or our son again."

"Lam Van, I love you."

In the fading glow of twilight, I could clearly see both profound love and deep repentance shining in his eyes. A soft laugh slipped past my lips, but tears welled up and quietly spilled over. So, through all those long days when I was kept in the dark, this man had also endured such a fierce internal torment. I opened my arms and wrapped them around him.

"Lu Canh Tham, you listen to me."

"The past... let it be swept away by the wind."

"From now on, the only person by your side will be this Lam Van."

"And you are the only one for me." He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, his voice brimming with reverence. "Only you."

The ocean breeze swept past, carrying with it a faint, salty tang. I knew then that our true story was only just beginning.

10

The days spent abroad were peaceful and overflowing with happiness. Lu Canh Tham truly honored every promise he had made. He shed all unnecessary social obligations, returning home promptly every single day. Clumsily following online recipes, he would cook the dishes I loved, and whenever I jolted awake from a midnight nightmare, he would pull me fiercely into his arms, whispering against my skin, "Don't be afraid, I am right here."

Our son was affectionately nicknamed An An, embodying the wish for peace and tranquility. As he grew day by day, his facial features increasingly mirrored Lu Canh Tham's, while his temperament inherited my quiet and cheerful disposition. Lu Canh Tham had transformed into a devoted "son slave." He could happily spend an entire afternoon crawling across the living room rug, playing with An An, reading fairy tales in an exaggerated, dramatic voice, and painstakingly taping every single one of his crude, scribbled drawings onto the walls of his study as if they were priceless museum masterpieces.

Sometimes, as I sat quietly watching the two of them, I could not help but wonder—what would my life have looked like if I hadn't fought back with such unyielding resolve? Perhaps I would have signed those bitterly unfair divorce papers, been cast out of the house, stripped of my last refuge, and left to cradle a nursing infant while drowning in a lifetime of torment, regret, and despair. Meanwhile, An Ky would have been living in my home, spending my money, continuing the glamorous life of a celebrated actress. Lam Thac would still be acting as the husband blinded by a toxic obsession, willingly blindfolded for the rest of his days. And Lu Canh Tham, upon returning home to find me gone, might have felt a flash of anger before eventually forgetting me—mere "replacement" that I was.

Fortunately, I had not chosen that path. I had chosen the most ruthless route—and ultimately, the right one.

That day, Chu Nhien sent me a photograph. In the picture, a silver-haired woman wearing a prisoner's uniform was seated before a sewing machine inside a prison labor workshop. Her face was etched with deep wrinkles, her eyes completely vacant, devoid of any lingering trace of the celebrated award-winning actress she once was. It was An Ky.

Chu Nhien told me that because she refused to behave and frequently picked fights behind bars, she was denied any reduction in her sentence. In the background of the photograph, the hunched figure of a skinny man sweeping the floor was vaguely visible. Chu Nhien explained that it was Lam Thac. Cornered by insurmountable debts, he had been caught during a petty theft, landing himself a six-month prison sentence. Because he was capable of physical labor but chronically lazy, he had been assigned the role of a prison custodian. The once-glamorous couple who had basked in the public spotlight had ultimately been "reunited" in the most humiliating depths of a correctional facility.

I gazed at the photograph, feeling not a single ripple of emotion in my heart. I simply locked my phone screen and slipped it back into my pocket.

From behind, Lu Canh Tham wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin comfortably on my shoulder.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing at all."

I turned around in his embrace, standing on tiptoe to press a light kiss to his lips.

"Just wondering what we should have for dinner tonight."

He chuckled softly, his eyes brimming with an uncontainable warmth and affection.

"Whatever you want, my love. I'll cook it for you."

The sunlight was gentle, and the breeze caressed our skin tenderly. Not far away, An An was chasing butterflies across the emerald lawn of the garden, his musical laughter ringing out continuously. Lu Canh Tham reached down, intertwining his fingers firmly with mine. The wounds and betrayals of the past had long since turned to dust, scattered by the wind. Ahead of me lay a future stretching wide like a star-filled sky, boundless blue oceans, the man standing beside me, and our precious child. This time, I had finally secured the happiness that belonged to me. (The End)