She Is Not the Other Woman - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Song Zhiyi opened the document envelope.

Inside was a stack of A4 paper. They weren’t printouts. They were handwritten by her. The writing was neat, and every page was dated.

“I didn’t just find out today,” she said.

Lin Zhi looked at the papers, her fingers tightening slightly.

“I discovered it last June.” Song Zhiyi pushed the first page over. “The spending records for his supplementary card. Around Laoximen, there were frequent purchases at a flower shop, takeout orders for two, and membership top-ups at a film developing store.”

When Lin Zhi saw the name of the developing store, her pupils contracted. It was the place she went to all the time. Fu Wenzhou had topped up her card there twice, and she’d even thought he was being considerate.

“Then there was his itinerary.” Song Zhiyi flipped to the second page. “He told me he was flying to Beijing on Friday to meet investors. But the record on Umetrip showed he didn’t fly until Sunday-there were two blank days in between. I checked the hotel’s points records. He was in Shanghai those two days.”

“You never-”

“No.” Song Zhiyi cut her off. “I didn’t confront him, didn’t make a scene, didn’t tell anyone.”

At last, a tiny crack appeared in her voice. So faint it was like a hairline fracture in porcelain glaze, invisible unless you looked closely.

“Why?” Lin Zhi asked.

Song Zhiyi didn’t answer right away. She stood and walked to the window, turning her back to Lin Zhi. Beneath her shirt, the lines of her shoulder blades were drawn taut.

“Because I was waiting,” she said. “Waiting until I was sure-that it wasn’t just a moment of stupidity, but a systematic pattern of deception. Waiting until I had enough in my hands that he couldn’t use that gentle way of speaking to twist things back on me.”

She turned around. Her eyes were dry, but red.

“He’s too good at it,” Song Zhiyi said. “If I went to him with only one or two pieces of evidence, he’d say I was overthinking it, that I was too sensitive, that maybe I’d been under too much stress at work lately. He’s done it before-with smaller things. And I believed him. Every single time.”

Lin Zhi suddenly understood something.

She remembered the time Fu Wenzhou saw a photo of her with a male friend. He hadn’t gotten angry. He had only stayed silent for a long time, then said, “As long as you’re happy.” Back then, she’d felt so guilty she spent ages explaining herself. After that, she never contacted that male friend again.

“He doesn’t hit you. He doesn’t curse at you. He doesn’t control your phone,” Lin Zhi said, her voice a little hoarse. “But he makes you feel that if something goes wrong in the relationship, it must be your fault.”

Song Zhiyi glanced at her.

There was something in that look. Not sympathy. Not pity. Recognition.

The recognition of, “You’ve been through it too.”

“These things,” Lin Zhi said, pointing at the papers on the coffee table, “what do you plan to do with them?”

“I have a brand client,” Song Zhiyi said, sitting back down and leaning forward. “They’re preparing to officially announce a new round of financing next month. Fu Wenzhou’s Shanyu is also in talks with the same financial advisory firm. That circle is small-personal image and business credibility are tied together.”

Lin Zhi understood.

“But these papers alone aren’t enough,” Song Zhiyi said. “I need a living witness. I need someone else who can confirm the things he said about being ‘single,’ ‘divorced,’ and ‘about to move to Shanghai.'”

“You want me to come forward and testify against him?”

“Not testify.” Song Zhiyi said, “I want the truth to have a face.”

Lin Zhi didn’t agree right away. She lowered her head and looked at the Jaeger-LeCoultre on her wrist, the dial turned inward, the movement ticking quietly.

“I need to think about it,” she said.

“I won’t rush you,” Song Zhiyi said. “But there’s one thing I want you to know.”

“What?”

“Last week, he told me he was ready to have a child.”

Lin Zhi jerked her head up.

“Last month, he told me he was preparing a divorce agreement.”

The two women looked at each other.

The warm light in the living room fell over their faces. There were no tears, no screams. Only something very quiet, slowly hardening into place.

“I’ll help you,” Lin Zhi said.

Song Zhiyi gave a single nod.

Just once.