After three years of marriage, with just one phone call from Song Yan's Bai Yueguang, he could leave me on the hospital bed and stay up all night.
I gave up my career and made soup for him, but what I got in exchange was his contemptuous words: "You eat and use mine, what right do you have to make trouble?"
Until I was diagnosed with terminal gastric cancer and my life was counting down, he hugged Bai Yueguang and said casually: "Her? She's just pretending to be sick to gain sympathy."
I signed the divorce agreement with a smile, turned around and jumped from the 28th floor of the hospital.
On the day of the funeral, Song Yan frantically opened my coffin, but it was empty inside.
And I was sitting on a private jet worth tens of millions. Next to me was Fu Siheng, the most mysterious richest man in Kyoto. He gently wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes: "Shen Wei, it's time for them to pay off their debts."
