Three years ago, Lu Xiaohu was still the famous Dragon King in the capital. A piece of paper ordered him to hide in a small town in the south of the Yangtze River. He sells fish in the vegetable market, grows flowers in a rental house, and stares at the river in a daze late at night. His wife, Lin Xue, thought he was useless. On the day she handed over the divorce papers, she didn't even dare to look into his eyes.
Lu Xiaohu was very calm when he signed, but when he put the pen back into the pen holder, the pen cap was not closed. He bent down to change his shoes and did not look back when he walked out of the Civil Affairs Bureau. Lin Xue thought he would beg her, but he didn't. She thought he would make a fuss, but he didn't either.
Three months later, Lin Xue's company was on the verge of bankruptcy. She knelt in the heavy rain and asked for help. A black umbrella covered the rain. Lu Xiaohu squatted down and put the handle of the umbrella into her hand: "Take the umbrella, I'm used to getting wet."
When she looked up, he was gone. Behind him stood more than twenty people in suits and ties, all bowing: "Dragon King!"
Only then did Lin Xue realize that the man she kicked out had never left her world.
