Of course. I will begin writing the story in English, adhering to the structured outline and the core concept of a "wake-up-and-revenge" female l
The early autumn wind held a premonitory bite, whipping against the glass curtain wall of the city's top law firm with a mournful sound. Wen Lan sat behind the broad desk, a woman draped in a cream cashmere dress that made her skin appear paler and her frame seem frailer than it was. Before her lay a document, its header in bold, black typeface burning like a brand: Divorce Agreement.
Her fingertips were white, not from reluctance, but from a feeling of exhausted relief. Three years. For three years, she had played the part of the wife Mu Bai required: docile, attentive, selfless, a dodder vine clinging to his existence. All because of a car accident three years ago that had stolen her memories, leaving her a blank slate for Mu Bai to collect and inscribe. He told her they were deeply in love. She believed him and molded herself into the woman she thought he desired.
Now, she remembered. Everything.
The memories had returned in a torrent, bringing a searing pain. She was not some gentle lamb. She was Wen Lan, the woman who had once decimated opponents in university debates, the one whose sharp intellect had shone in business strategy competitions. And Mu Bai… he had pursued her relentlessly, only to reveal, after he had her, a controlling nature and a fragile narcissism. Her light had threatened his delicate ego, and he had tried to polish her into a thoughtless collectible. That "accidental" car crash… was it truly an accident? A sliver of cold suspicion flickered in Wen Lan's eyes.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound was沉稳, imbued with the man's characteristic arrogance. Before she could answer, the door opened.
Mu Bai walked in. He was clad in a flawlessly tailored Italian suit that hugged his tall, athletic frame. His face was sculpted perfection—deep-set eyes, a straight, aristocratic nose, and thin lips pressed into a firm line. An aura of icy detachment surrounded him. He strode to her desk, his gaze falling on the divorce papers, his expression one of habitual scrutiny mixed with a trace of… irritation?
"All settled?" His voice was low, betraying no emotion. "The apartment is yours. Also, this card holds fifty million. Consider it compensation for these three years."
His long, elegant fingers pushed a black credit card next to the agreement, a gesture of graceful condescension. The amnesiac Wen Lan of the past would have refused anxiously, looking at him with timid, doe eyes, whispering, "I don't want anything, I only wish for your happiness."
But now, Wen Lan lifted her head slowly and looked at him. Her eyes were not the adoring, slightly fearful pools of softness he knew. They were calm, assessing, even holding a trace of… pity?
Mu Bai stiffened slightly under her gaze. What was wrong?
"CEO Mu is as generous as ever," Wen Lan spoke, her voice clear, laced with a faint mockery, devoid of its previous softness. "However, I don't need your compensation."
She picked up a pen and signed her name at the bottom of the document with a decisive slash. The strokes were sharp, forceful, utterly unlike her former delicate handwriting. She pushed the agreement back toward him.
"Regarding assets, I will only take what is rightfully mine. According to Civil Code Article 1087, the division of marital property should favor the wife's rights. I have entrusted my lawyer to calculate my rightful share of the profits from my pre-marital investments, as well as a reasonable percentage of the profits you generated using the technical patent my father left me. The detailed list and documents will be sent to your legal department by my lawyer." Her tone was even, her logic crystalline, as if she were conducting a routine business negotiation.
Mu Bai's brow furrowed completely. Pre-marital investments? Technical patents? How could she know about these? The amnesiac her should know nothing! He stared intently into her eyes, searching for a hint of pretense, but found only a deep, placid lake whose depths he could not fathom.
"Wen Lan," his tone dropped, carrying a warning, "do you have any idea what you're saying?"
"I know perfectly well, Mu Bai." Wen Lan stood, picking up the camel coat draped over the back of her chair and slipping it on with a fluid, practiced motion. It was a gesture of efficient grace he had never seen from her. "As of today, we are square. No," she paused, a faint, unsettling smile touching her lips, "I have taken back what was always mine."
She picked up the black card from the desk, pinched it between two fingers, and tucked it back into the breast pocket of his suit. The action was flippant, almost… dismissive. Mu Bai's body went rigid.
"Keep the money, CEO Mu," she leaned in slightly, her voice a conspiratorial, teasing whisper meant only for him. "Maintaining this 'domineering CEO' persona of yours can't be cheap."
Without waiting to see the thunderous expression darkening his handsome face, she picked up a simple briefcase from the corner of the desk—her pre-amnesia favorite, not the designer handbags he had bought her later—turned, and walked out of the office that had housed her three-year sham of a marriage.
The click of her five-inch stilettos on the marble floor was crisp, powerful. Each step echoed, resonating strangely in Mu Bai's chest.
Mu Bai stood rooted to the spot, the edge of the card in his pocket digging into his skin. He stared, disbelieving, at the slender back disappearing through the doorway. That woman just now… was she really the obedient, soft-spoken Wen Lan who wouldn't dare raise her voice?
Her gaze, her tone, her departing posture… she was a completely different person!
A sense of uncontrollable烦躁, unprecedented in its intensity, seized him. He slammed a fist onto the polished desk, the sound dull and heavy. Why? Wasn't he the one who suggested the divorce? Hadn't he grown tired of her subservience? Why, then, when she left with such finality, even with humiliation, did he feel so… enraged and… unmoored?