“A-Chen, do you love me?” Her voice was calm, but the tremor at the end betrayed her nervousness and unease.
Feng Lichen knitted his sharp brows, his eyes turning cold.
“Do you think I could love a woman like you, someone who used underhanded means to climb the social ladder?” His blunt question struck her right in the heart.
Mu Qingran smiled, pale and helpless. “I told you, I was a victim that night three years ago too.”
Three years ago, someone had drugged her as part of a scheme, but Feng Lichen believed she had planned it all along.
Feng Lichen’s lips pressed into a deeply sardonic curve. “Wasn’t it you who demanded marriage and then asked me for money?”
Mu Qingran paused. Back then, she really had used her marriage to Feng Lichen to get a substantial sum of money.
But that money...
She stopped herself from dwelling on it. Her fingertips traced his brow, sliding down to his thin lips.
For three years, she had never managed to warm his cold heart.
Their marriage had long been a marriage in name only. What was the point of living like this?
Mu Qingran suddenly let out a long breath. She smiled, radiant as a field of flowers.
“Feng Lichen, let’s get divorced.”
