In the third year of marriage, my mother-in-law gave me an ultimatum: "Either quit your job and have a baby, or let your son divorce you!" She even offered "favorable" terms: As long as I nodded, a house in the city center and a new car would be signed with my name immediately. In the eyes of my patriarchal mother-in-law, my Harvard degree, investment bank reputation, and annual salary of one million are nothing compared to my status as someone who can "give birth to sons." I laughed, and was about to engage in a three-hundred-year verbal spat, when my usually gentle husband took the first step to protect me. His tone was as cold as ever: "Mom, Lin Xi is not a reproductive tool for our family. This matter is non-negotiable." "This is outrageous!" My husband's wife was furious. That night we moved out of that suffocating home. Looking at Shen Qingyue who was clumsily cooking noodles for me in the small apartment, I asked him: "Do you regret it? You made this trouble with your parents because of me." He put the poached eggs into my bowl with a firm look: "I only regret not taking you away earlier." From that day on, I put away all the hesitations and started my career with full energy. I returned the customers who were robbed tenfold; the shoes that were stolen, I made them "respectable" in public; when my abilities were questioned, I silenced everyone with beautiful performance reports. And Shen Qingyue will always be my strongest support. At my celebration party, he would show up with a cake made by himself; when I stayed up late at night, he would accompany me to analyze the data. A year later, as the youngest regional director, I stood on the podium and looked at Shen Qingyue, who was proudly applauding me. And the mother-in-law who originally warned us that we would "not survive",
