The day I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Pei Yichi put an arm around his new arranged-marriage partner and forced me to divorce him:
"With the Si family in decline, you stopped being useful to me ages ago. I'm only divorcing you now out of respect for our families' long-standing friendship."
His gaze was icy. He seemed to have already predicted that someone as spoiled and willful as me would soon make a scene and turn everything upside down.
But I simply signed the divorce papers obediently, my expression calm.
"All right. I'll move out tomorrow."
Pei Yichi was taken aback. A faint smile appeared at my unusual maturity, and he generously asked if I had any other conditions.
Clutching my medical records, I told him nothing.
"Give me another 500,000."
Ten days later, I was buried in Nanshan Cemetery. A private grave there cost exactly 500,000.
