When Lu Chenzhou slapped the divorce agreement on the table, the first snow in Beijing was falling outside the window.
I stared at the blank space in the "Support" column and suddenly smiled.
"Are you too lazy to even pretend?"
He didn't look at me and lowered his head to unbutton his cufflinks, his movements as slow and deliberate as if he were dealing with an insignificant document.
"Sign, Jiang He. It's been three years, and you know exactly what this marriage is about."
I know it very well.
Marriage by agreement, each gets what he wants. He needs a wife to take care of the family, and I need some money to save my dad's factory. It is clearly written in black and white. When the deadline is up, it will be easy to get together and part ways.
But when the deadline came, I didn't want to do it anymore.
I pushed the agreement back, stood up, and said the most undignified words in the calmest tone:
"I won't sign. If you can, find someone to throw me out."
Lu Chenzhou finally looked up at me.
Those eyes were like the surface of a lake in late winter, frozen with no cracks.
"Jiang He," he called me by my full name, his voice low, "don't make yourself look bad."
I picked up my bag and looked back when I walked to the door.
He was folding up the agreement, his movements still unhurried. There is an untouched cup of coffee on the table, next to the freesia I bought last week, still open.
I bought the flowers and he never noticed.
The moment the door closed, I heard the sound of something being pushed into the shredder behind me.
Very light.
Like bones being crushed.
