When he was twenty years old, Lin Min spent three years saving 93,000 yuan, and planned to save 100,000 yuan to do something he had hidden for a long time.
The plan ended on a Friday afternoon.
Lin's mother reported the loss of her salary card and transferred 3,800 yuan; Lin Jianguo asked for 60,000 yuan as a gift, and he was confident; Gu Yishen stood at the entrance of the corridor as a lobbyist, and the first thing he said was "I will earn the money later." Lin Nian waited at the door for thirty seconds, waiting for him to say something different. He didn't.
That night she emptied her account, sent a divorce letter the next day, bought a one-way ticket, and left.
Five years later, Lin Min was a foreign-related lawyer at a leading law firm, specializing in family property disputes. She hates no one and doesn't need anyone. She turned that suffocating feeling of unclear accounting into a craft.
Then Lin Jianguo came, Lin's mother came, and Gu Yishen came.
They all thought that after five years, there was still something to talk about. They all miscalculated.
Lin Nian only wanted one thing: to have the account have an accurate weight, write it into the document, and stamp it, so that from now on, the two parties would not owe each other anything.
There is no kneeling apology in this story, no tearful reconciliation. There was only one woman who settled the accounts that had been weighed down for twenty years, then raised her head and continued walking.
Bad people deserve bad things, and it has nothing to do with me from now on.
