When the divorce agreement smacked me in the face, I was rushing my feverish son to the hospital in my arms.
Shen Yu’s beloved first love wrapped herself around his waist and laughed coyly. “Sister, A-Yu says your bastard is bad luck.”
Five years later, at an international perfumery competition, my fragrance had the judges rise to their feet in applause.
Under the spotlights, Shen Yu barged backstage with red-rimmed eyes. “Honey, the child can’t grow up without a father...”
The adorable little one in my arms blinked eyes just like his, with the same alluring peach-blossom shape. “Mister, the crematorium has a discount today.”
The next day, the headlines exploded: #ShenGroupCEOKneelsOnCrushedDurianAtDawn# #RoseConfessionAcrossTheCityRejected#
Yet Shen Yu dug up an iron box outside my home.
Inside were 23 pregnancy test reports and a diagnosis of late-stage cancer.
He dialed an encrypted number with trembling hands. “Bring me the world’s top cancer specialists, by any means necessary!”
Suddenly, a little hand reached out from the shadows and tugged at his trouser leg:
“Silly Daddy, that’s Mommy’s perfume formula!”
