Meng Yue

At a dinner party, the genius artist's wife used her hands insured for millions to crack open crabs for her male assistant. It was just to coax her without an appetite to eat something. And when I was drinking to the point of vomiting blood to get her investments, I asked her to fetch me some stomach medicine. She outright refused: 'My hands are for painting, don't you have your own hands?' For ten years, she couldn’t even be bothered to change her rejection phrasing. That day, sobered by the cold wind, I asked a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Shen Xiaolan, in this rushed and chaotic world, we are no longer on the same path.
At a dinner party, the genius artist's wife used her hands insured for millions to crack open crabs for her male assistant. It was just to coax her without an appetite to eat something. And when I was drinking to the point of vomiting blood to get her investments, I asked her to fetch me some stomach medicine. She outright refused: 'My hands are for painting, don't you have your own hands?' For ten years, she couldn’t even be bothered to change her rejection phrasing. That day, sobered by the cold wind, I asked a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Shen Xiaolan, in this rushed and chaotic world, we are no longer on the same path.
At a dinner party, the genius artist's wife used her hands insured for millions to crack open crabs for her male assistant. It was just to coax her without an appetite to eat something. And when I was drinking to the point of vomiting blood to get her investments, I asked her to fetch me some stomach medicine. She outright refused: 'My hands are for painting, don't you have your own hands?' For ten years, she couldn’t even be bothered to change her rejection phrasing. That day, sobered by the cold wind, I asked a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Shen Xiaolan, in this rushed and chaotic world, we are no longer on the same path.

After Divorcing and Going Abroad, Artist Wife Regretted

To be honest, I never thought Shen Xiaolan, who always acted detached, would have such a reaction.


Maybe my recent strangeness finally caught her attention.


There was a flicker of panic in Shen Xiaolan's eyes as she grabbed my hand and questioned fiercely, "What exactly are you trying to do?"


I was about to speak honestly when I heard He Shuyan's scream from backstage.


Shen Xiaolan quickly tossed my phone aside and rushed over.


Meanwhile, I picked up my phone quietly, pressed the payment button, and then headed to the backstage.


The frames were shattered everywhere, and He Shuyan lay on the ground, his wrist impaled by the wooden shards, bleeding profusely.


"Ugh... Sister Shen, it was Brother Song Xiao who asked me to sort them out. I really didn't expect these frames to fall down. I was so careful. Did I do something wrong?"


Shen Xiaolan gently cradled He Shuyan's hand, her eyes already reddened.


The next second, she turned her head and shouted angrily at me:


"Song Xiao, are you done causing trouble?"


"He Shuyan is my assistant; he normally only tidies up my things. What are your intentions having him do heavy work?"


"I've put up with your indecent behavior at dinner tables over these years, but have you corrupted yourself to the point of framing others?"


Ignoring the suspicious glances around us, I explained with a stern face:


"I didn't ask him to do it; I was clearly in the front just now..."


Unable to bear it any longer, Shen Xiaolan interrupted me, "Of course, you don't need to come in person. Everything in my studio is decided by you, so you can easily find someone to replace you!"


"Shuyan got hurt like this; I cannot let it go just like that!"


After saying this, she picked up a painting from the corner and hurled it at my feet.


The solid wood frame smashed cruelly against my leg bone, its sharp corner tearing into my skin.


"This is for Shuyan, pay attention everyone, from now on, my studio's work has nothing to do with Song Xiao! Anyone who dares to listen to him, get out of the studio!"


"Song Xiao, you can only come to the studio once Shuyan forgives you!"


Supporting He Shuyan, Shen Xiaolan directly pushed past me and left without looking back.


I stood there, unable to prevent the dampness in the corners of my eyes.


The blood from my calf flowed onto the shattered frame at my feet.


This was the painting Shen Xiaolan spent three months on when she confessed to me, once the most precious to her.


Using thirty thousand of my names, she painted the future we once dreamed of—watching the sunset in Paris.


But now, the intense love she used to have for me was shelved, and the promises of our youth were shattered by her own hands.


I took the paper from the frame, tore it 48 times, and threw the shredded pieces into the trash bin.
