From the other side of the door, Li Mingxuan's voice floated out again, smooth but commanding. "Mingming, you've been busy for a month. I'll give you half a day off. Go back and rest."
Xu Ming bowed, his lips curving into the faintest smile. "Thank you, Marshal." His tone carried a note of relief, as though glad to escape whatever storm might be brewing inside. With that, he turned and walked away, his figure soon disappearing down the stairs.
The hall went quiet.
Ji Yu reached out, her fingers brushing the brass doorknob. It felt cool under her skin, almost too polished, as if a servant had wiped it down moments earlier. She turned it slowly and pushed the door open.
Inside, the study was large, lined with shelves filled with thick books whose spines shone with gold lettering. A heavy scent of ink and old paper lingered in the air, mixed faintly with the smell of strong tobacco. The curtains were half drawn, letting in lines of late afternoon sunlight that cut across the room.
At the far end sat Li Mingxuan behind a grand desk made of dark wood. His posture was casual, but the desk itself was stacked with papers and contracts, as though he had been working—or pretending to.
What caught Ji Yu's eye first wasn't him, but the painting that hung directly behind his chair. It was a huge portrait of himself in a tuxedo, painted in rich colors. The pose was heroic, chin lifted, shoulders squared, a glass of wine in his hand as though he were the star of some great stage.
Ji Yu's lips curved faintly. Narcissist.
Li Mingxuan lifted his head, noticing her gaze. For the briefest second, something ugly flickered in his eyes—disgust. It was quick, gone in a heartbeat, but Ji Yu caught it easily. She had lived through wars and betrayals; she could read people as clearly as maps.
He smoothed his expression at once, but that flash was enough. To him, Ji Yu's sturdy figure, her plain clothes, her strong presence—none of it fit his shallow idea of beauty. People were visual creatures, and Li Mingxuan was the worst kind.
"It seems you're doing well on that country planet, cousin," he said carelessly, leaning back in his chair. One leg crossed over the other, his hand tapping lightly against the armrest. His tone was light, but it dripped with dismissal.
Ji Yu guessed he didn't even want to look directly at her, afraid her presence might spoil his carefully arranged mood.
She smiled faintly, as if amused. "Of course, I can't compare to you. You and I are husband and wife, so calling me cousin is inappropriate. Master Li, you can call me Sister Yu."
The words were light, but her tone carried a subtle sting.
His brow furrowed. The ease in his posture vanished as he sat up straight. His eyes sharpened, like a predator realizing it had been mocked. "The guards said you came to ask for a divorce."
"That's right," Ji Yu said without a moment's hesitation. She nodded once, simple and firm.
He seemed almost relieved at her words, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. But before he could speak further, she added softly, her voice cutting like a blade, "But I've changed my mind. I regret it now."
The faint calm on his face shattered. His composure cracked. He stood up, the chair legs scraping harshly against the floor. Striding toward her, he spoke quickly, his voice controlled but tinged with urgency.
"Ji Yu, I can make it up to you. There's no love between us, and I never touched you. After the divorce, you'll have money. You can find a man who truly loves you."
Ji Yu stood her ground, her expression steady. She could see it—the effort it took him to remain calm, the small tremor at the edge of his voice. This was the man who commanded the Li family, who had crushed rivals in business wars, who was praised as a genius of strategy. Yet here he was, speaking almost like he was pleading.
But she was unmoved. She had faced alien battlefields where tens of thousands of Zerg swarmed like endless tides. She had fought under skies burning with fire. How could a single man like him ever shake her heart?
Her voice rang clear and cold, every word sharp as a blade drawn fresh from the forge. "I endured eight years as an abandoned woman in a rural village. Eight years of rumors, mockery, and mistreatment. Do you think all of that can be erased with a pile of money?"
Her words hung in the air like thunder.
She thought of the original Ji Yu—the woman whose life she now carried. Eight years wasted. The best years of her youth spent waiting, clinging to hope that her husband would come for her. But he never came. In this society, a woman's worth was tied to a man's name. To be abandoned was to be ridiculed, to be despised, to be treated as less than nothing.
The pain, the humiliation, the loneliness the original Ji Yu had endured—no amount of money could buy that back.
Li Mingxuan's face darkened, shadows settling over his sharp features. His lips parted, but no words came out. For once, he was the one left speechless.
Because deep down, he knew. It was he who owed her.
At last, frustration boiled over. He slammed his palm down on the desk, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. Papers jumped, and the inkpot wobbled dangerously. His hand turned red from the impact, but Ji Yu only stood there, watching him with cool indifference, as though it were no more impressive than a child's tantrum.
The silence stretched long, thick enough to choke on.
Finally, Ji Yu's lips curved faintly again. Her voice softened, but the steel beneath it didn't fade. "Well. I'm not against divorce." She tilted her head slightly, her eyes never leaving his. "But the compensation—" she paused, letting the words sink in, "—must satisfy me."
.
.
.
To be continued.