On our first wedding anniversary, my wife, Lin Qingnian, said she was going into seclusion at Nanshan Temple to pray for blessings.
She made a point of telling me:
"Don't contact me for three days. Breaking my fast would bring bad luck."
I believed her. I didn't even dare send her the anniversary gift I'd prepared.
But that afternoon, I accompanied a friend who was about to get married to pick up his formalwear at a bridal shop,
and saw Lin Qingnian in a VIP fitting room on the second floor.
She was wearing a 300,000-yuan mermaid wedding dress, and on her wrist was the star-and-moon bodhi bracelet I'd begged for on my knees.
Her first love, Gu Xuan, was kneeling before her, sliding a diamond ring onto her ring finger.
"Niannian, wearing the wedding dress I chose, are you still praying for your marriage to him?"
Lin Qingnian lowered her head and kissed him. "Don't bring up that killjoy."
So she wasn't praying for us to grow old together. She was hoping to rekindle things with someone else.
I didn't rush in. I just took a photo of them kissing and sent it to her, including the time it was taken and the fitting room number.
Then I sent her: [The Buddha didn't wait for you, and neither will I. Let's get divorced.]
Ten minutes later, she called. Her first words after I answered weren't an explanation, but an accusation.
"Are you sick? Why are you sending me these stupid pictures to disgust me while I'm meditating?"
"Take them back right now. Don't make me break my vow against anger!"
I smiled and casually sent the high-resolution original to our family group chat, with all sixty-five members.
