Chapter 3

At home, I booked my flight and packed what I needed.

Then I took down all thirty-six chiming clocks in the apartment, one by one. I threw them out with the clothes and accessories she required me to wear.

I would never again need those instruments of torture I’d put on to satisfy her idea of a perfect boyfriend.

I zipped up my suitcase and let out a long breath.

Just as I was about to call Shen Mo to break up, my phone rang.

“Is this Ms. Shen in Apartment 501, Building 3, Nancheng Huayuan? Your hangover soup is here. Security won’t let me in. You’ll have to come down and get it.”

My stomach dropped. Something wasn’t right.

That was the home Shen Mo and I had bought seven years ago for our marriage.

Her perfectionism meant we couldn’t move in until we had successfully completed the wedding.

We had spent all these years in a rental, agreeing not to cross that boundary.

When I drove over, the door wasn’t quite shut.

Through the gap came a man’s slurred complaints.

“It’s your fault for taking points off my best friend! You made Chen so mad he left before we could even take a photo together!”

He kept making a fuss. Shen Mo laughed. “You drunk! Fine, fine. It’s all my fault. I won’t deduct points for him forgetting the group photos.”

She caught his flailing foot indulgently and began rubbing it with care. Her eyes were full of tenderness.

So she did know how to take care of someone.

Once, when I was drunk, I had done no more than lean against her, and she had thrown me out of our rental.

She told me to stop making a drunken scene and sober up outside before coming back in.

It had been minus ten degrees Celsius. The cold made me afraid to drink ever again.

Now she had crossed that boundary herself, bringing a drunken Ji Yan into our marital home, letting him make a mess of the place.

I pushed open the door. Shen Mo looked over.

Panic flashed across her face. Then she saw the takeout in my hand, and her brows drew together in irritation.

“Rule three of the Rules for the Perfect Boyfriend: respect privacy before marriage. Snooping through my takeout: minus ten.”

No explanation. Only blame.

It was so absurd. I suddenly felt exhausted.

When two people weren’t listening to each other, all their words became noise.

“Shen Mo, let’s break—”

Before I could finish, Ji Yan lurched toward me in a drunken haze.

“Don’t take points off Chen!”

He stumbled into Shen Mo, knocking her aside, and seized my hand.

“Buddy, you didn’t take a photo with me today. Are you mad at me? I didn’t mean to steal your wedding. I’ll give you the ring back. Let’s make up!”

He took off the wedding ring but couldn’t line it up with my finger.

His breath reeked of alcohol. Irritated, I tried to pull free.

A sharp pain shot through my fingertip.

Shen Mo shoved me away and covered Ji Yan’s finger with her hand. She looked at me as though I had done something monstrous.

“Xie Chen, what the hell is wrong with you?”

My grunt of pain caught in my throat.

She kicked the bloodstained ring away, settled Ji Yan onto the couch, and fetched a first-aid kit.

The blood on his finger was mine. It would have wiped right off.

She wrapped it in five layers of gauze anyway.

Then, apparently remembering something, she hauled him up, slung one of his arms over her shoulder, and hurried him out.

“I’m taking Ji Yan for a tetanus shot. Get back to the rental and think about what you’ve done! Until he forgives you, the wedding is postponed indefinitely!”

She strode away. My whisper disappeared in the rush of her passing.

“Shen Mo. I’m the one who’s hurt.”