I was sewing a silk nightgown for my husband’s seventieth birthday when I got a call from the police.
They stammered over the phone: “There’s been a wildfire. Something may have happened to Mr. Lu.”
I rushed to the scene in a panic, only to find a man in his early twenties already waiting there.
His name was Zhou Aihao, and he claimed to be Mr. Lu’s son.
His mother, Zhou Yuwei, had also disappeared in the wildfire, along with my husband, Lu Yanhao.
The world spun around me, and I felt as if I’d fallen into an icy abyss.
Zhou Aihao produced Lu Yanhao’s will. The paintings and property had all been left to him by name,
and I was thrown out of my own villa.
It turned out that my marriage, after more than thirty years of choosing not to have children, had been a joke.
I picked up my violin again and held a concert on my sixtieth birthday.
Lu Yanhao, now white-haired, reappeared before me with a bouquet in his hands and tears streaming down his face.
“Lin Xi, would you marry me again?”
