Her original name was Mo Zheyao. When she ran away that rainy night, she had nothing but old and new scars on her body.
Later, she stole someone else's identity and made a living in Xicheng, Beiping, becoming the most humble trainee reporter in the newspaper.
The sky in Beiping City belongs to the Jiang family. Jiang Shangye, the eldest young master of the Jiang family, holds a lot of power and is upright and proud, but he also knows how to gracefully trample on the dignity of others.
Later, he cleared the newspaper office's crisis for her, gave her gold and jade, and paved the way for her escape. He even said to her in a gesture of withstanding the pressure of his family:
"If you stay by my side without any name or status, I will never marry a real wife in this life."
The way he looked at her was one of grace, control, and a look down that needed no explanation.
He thought this was the deepest affection, but he didn't know that the "equality" in her heart had been pushed to the edge by this condescending tenderness.
Until the family of her real friend came to her door and threatened her with her stolen identity, forcing her to write a false manuscript that confuses right and wrong. She had done it, but she finally woke up from the quagmire of humiliation.
That day when it rained heavily in the West City, she appeared on the front page of the newspaper and tore up the skin with her own hands in front of readers all over the city.
A few years later, warlords fought and the Jiang family collapsed overnight.
Jiang Shangye sold his property and left all his wealth anonymously to Mo Weisheng.
On the paper accompanying the letter, there was only one clear line of small regular script:
"Mo Xun. I wish you well."
It was late autumn again, and it rained heavily at night in Xishan.
She held a black umbrella and walked on the long bluestone street; he wore a dark gray coat and boarded a southbound train.
Through the dense rain curtain, he just nodded to her calmly and quietly through the car window.
The rain falls on the west mountain, and the night ends silently.
Intention: Love is not a charity that is overlooked, and dignity is not a gift that is given.