At twenty-eight, Shen Yu married into the Fu family.
On their wedding night, she overheard the servants whispering: “Have you heard? The Fu family married her because she looks like the old master’s sweetheart when he was young.”
Only then did she understand: she was nothing more than a replacement.
Three years of marriage, three years in an icehouse. In public, he was an aloof, self-disciplined cybersecurity expert. At home, he treated her with cold indifference. Her mother-in-law made things difficult for her, her sisters-in-law set traps for her, and his pure-hearted ex-girlfriend showed up every few days...
Through gritted teeth, Shen Yu turned a third-rate art gallery into an industry benchmark and transformed the silk tapestry craft passed down from her grandmother into a major national intangible cultural heritage exhibition.
Then, quite by chance, she found a yellowed letter.
It was written in her grandmother’s own hand, addressed to the old master of the Fu family. It contained just one sentence: “I waited my whole life, and never got an apology from you.”
It turned out that the person her grandmother had waited for all her life was her husband’s grandfather.
It turned out that Fu Jichen had married her to repay his grandfather’s debt of love from sixty years ago.
It turned out that what stood between them was the regret of two generations.
Shen Yu held the letter, her hands trembling.
Fu Jichen had appeared behind her at some point. His voice was hoarse. “Shen Yu, what your grandmother never got... I’ll repay it to you on my grandfather’s behalf.”
She looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed. “Fu Jichen, what could you possibly repay me with?”
He said nothing. He simply took a bullet casing from his breast pocket: the one her grandmother had left her and the one his grandfather had passed down to him were a pair all along.
Sixty years later, they were finally reunited.
