She Is Not the Other Woman - Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Shanyu Capital’s financing dinner was set for Friday, on the top floor of the Park Hyatt.
Song Zhiyi began preparing on Monday.
Not her dress or her makeup. She was preparing an identity: Fu Wenzhou’s wife.
She had worn that identity for five years. Before, it had been instinct. Now, it was a tool.
On Wednesday afternoon, she went to get her hair done. Sitting in front of the mirror, she opened the shared document Lin Zhi had sent her.
A timeline.
Compiled by Lin Zhi.
Every entry had a date, a location, and details.
September 14, 2021. Four Seasons Hotel, executive suite. He said he was meeting investors.
February 7, 2022. He ordered two bouquets. One was delivered to the company. The other was sent to Lin Zhi.
August to October 2023. Three business trips together. Hangzhou, Shenzhen, Chengdu. The flights and hotels were all under Lin Zhi’s name.
Line after line. Clean, calm, not a single emotional note.
After Song Zhiyi finished reading, she exited the document and locked her phone.
Above her head, Tony asked, “Do you want the bangs a little shorter?”
“No,” she said. “Leave them like this.”
On Thursday morning, Lin Zhi called.
“There’s one entry I need to confirm with you.”
“Go ahead.”
“In May 2023, he transferred five hundred thousand to me.” Lin Zhi’s voice was very even. “He said it was for further study, but it was actually to reimburse a business entertainment expense. I have the transaction record.”
“Is that important?”
“Not on its own. But in the timeline, it lines up with his schedule that month.”
“Understood. Put it in.”
A brief silence followed.
“Song Zhiyi,” Lin Zhi suddenly called her by her full name.
“Mm.”
“At the dinner, he’s going to thank you onstage.”
“I know.”
“Can you hold it together?”
“I’ve held it together for five years,” Song Zhiyi said. “One more night won’t make a difference.”
Lin Zhi said nothing more and hung up.
On Thursday night, Fu Wenzhou came home early.
He brought a dress with him. Navy blue, satin, with a high neckline. The brand was one Song Zhiyi liked.
“Wear this tomorrow.” He placed the box on the bed. “I had someone choose it according to your measurements.”
Song Zhiyi took the dress out and held it against herself.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful.”
Fu Wenzhou walked over and embraced her from behind. His chin rested on her shoulder, and his voice lowered.
“Zhiyi, thank you.”
She didn’t stiffen. That was the hardest part-not stiffening.
“For what?”
“Lately… I know I haven’t done well enough. Things will be different from now on.”
Song Zhiyi looked at the two people in the full-length mirror. They looked like a loving couple.
Mirrors really were wonderful things. They could hold anything.
“Wenzhou,” she said.
“Mm?”
“When you go onstage tomorrow, what are you going to say?”
Fu Wenzhou smiled. “The usual. Thank the team, thank the investors.”
“And then?”
“And then… thank my wife.” He tightened his arms around her. “You’re the most important person in my life.”
Song Zhiyi smiled at the mirror.
It was a perfect smile. Gentle, appropriate, even with the faint reddening of eyes touched by emotion.
She had practiced it.
“Get some sleep,” she said. “Tomorrow is a big day.”
Fu Wenzhou kissed her hair and went to shower.
Once the sound of running water began, Song Zhiyi sat on the edge of the bed and picked up her phone.
Lin Zhi had sent the final version of the timeline.
Twenty-three pages. Three years. One hundred and seven records.
Song Zhiyi scrolled through it from beginning to end, then locked the screen.
Tomorrow, she would put on that dress, sit below the stage, and listen to Fu Wenzhou say, “Thank my wife.”
She closed her eyes. Listening to the sound of water in the bathroom, her fingers unconsciously brushed along the edge of her phone case.
Then she opened her eyes and did one thing.
She synced the shared document to the cloud, then scheduled an email. Send time: nine o’clock the morning after tomorrow.
If everything went smoothly, that email would never need to be opened.
If it didn’t-
The bathroom door opened.
Fu Wenzhou stepped out in a bathrobe, his hair still dripping.
“Zhiyi, what time are we leaving tomorrow?”
“Six-thirty,” she said. “I hung your suit up for you.”
“You’re always one step ahead of me.”
Song Zhiyi placed her phone on the nightstand, screen facing down.
“Sleep,” she said.
The room went dark.
Fu Wenzhou fell asleep quickly. His breathing was steady, his mind utterly unburdened.
Song Zhiyi lay with her eyes open, counting until the sky nearly turned light.
