Chapter 9

Very strange.

Me, my first love, my husband.

Three people, sitting in a lounge.

Jiang Mo wore his signature smile, speaking warmly, “Hello, I am Qi’s husband. We’ve been married for three years.”

Ying Chen curled his lips, glanced at me playfully, then squinted, carefully looking into Jiang Mo’s eyes.

I shot him a cold warning look.

He retracted his smile, coughed twice, and said, “Hello, I am Qi’s classmate and also her childhood sweetheart.”

I frowned and gave him another warning glare.

He then shut his mouth with a smug expression.

Jiang Mo paused for a moment.

His vacant eyes revealed nothing, but the smile at the corner of his mouth slowly faded.

After a moment of silence, he said, “Hello.”

Just then, the assistant knocked on the door.

Holding a document, she said, “President Yun, the client you scheduled has just arrived and is waiting for you in the meeting room.”

“Alright.”

Before leaving, I typed on my phone screen and held it in front of Ying Chen:

Don’t talk nonsense, don’t bully anyone, hurry up and leave.

He read it, squinted and smiled, nodding.

Then I patted Jiang Mo’s shoulder and said, “You can wander around; my assistant is just outside the door. You can ask her to guide you. I need to attend to some work.”

Jiang Mo obediently replied, “Okay.”

I then stood up.

After all, Ying Chen, despite everything, is somewhat of a gentleman.

He wouldn’t bully someone like Jiang Mo, who is disabled.

I took one last look at them through the glass.

The two sat facing each other, seemingly talking about something.

“President Yun.” The assistant urged me.

So I reluctantly turned away and left.

Until the meeting ended.

I quietly called Jiang Mo’s doctor.

“Has Jiang Mo’s eyesight improved this year, or is there any chance of recovery?”

The doctor said no.

Very confidently answered, “Your husband’s eye injury is almost irreversible, very difficult, unless a miracle happens.”

A miracle.

Is love a miracle?

I’ve long passed that age.

But recalling Jiang Mo’s appearance last night, those eyes reflecting the light, I still asked the doctor to send me the latest examination report.

Yes, no sign of recovery.

On my desk was still a photo of Jiang Mo.

It was taken before his accident, when he was one of the youngest top doctors in the country, giving a speech.

The young man was full of spirit, wearing a white coat, looking cool and ethereal.

Countless senior and junior female colleagues secretly admired him.

“President Yun.”

The assistant suddenly knocked on the door, looking awkward, “There seems to be some issue with Mr. Jiang… You should go and check.”