I was Gu Chengye's carefully crafted copy, down to having the slit in my cheongsam cut to match his first love's measurements.
> The day his first love returned to the country, I quietly moved out of the master bedroom and hid the twins' names on my pregnancy test.
> As I hemorrhaged on the delivery table, he clutched the surgical consent form and asked, “Save Lin Wanyi's child or hers?”
> The doctor took my barely breathing daughter away to save the son of the woman he loved.
> Three months later, we met again at the airport. I pushed my son in a stroller, while my suitcase held my daughter's ashes.
> His eyes red, he grabbed me. “What happened to our children?”
> I smiled and took off my sunglasses, revealing the left eye I'd cried blind for my daughter. “Which one are you asking about, Mr. Gu? The one who died, or the one you'll never find?”
