Xu Yao once thought that marriage was gauze to stop bleeding - on the abortion operating table seven years ago, Lin Luo held her hand full of pinholes and said "I marry you", and she cut her life into pieces and sewed them into his tenderness. It wasn't until late at night when I was working overtime that I caught a glimpse of my husband's teasing with a strange woman on the driving recorder. The phrase "she depends on me because she can't have children" was like a pair of rusty scissors, reopening the wound that had been sewn for seven years.
When she discovered that there was a forged pregnancy test sheet in the gambling debt agreement, and when she saw Liu Ran clutching the ring that she had returned in the fire, those years when Lin Luofuan had raised her as a canary suddenly revealed their bones. It turns out that the shadowless light in the operating room has never been extinguished, and it has always illuminated the lies she wrote in her marriage ledger: pretending to forget the three phone calls Liu Ran hung up on, pretending to believe Lin Luo's statement that "children are not important," pretending not to see that she is decaying.
When the audit papers filled the court, Xu Yao finally dared to look directly at the person in the mirror - the Xu Yao who used her husband's guilt as an analgesic and her ex's guilt as a fig leaf was already dead. At this moment, she stands on top of the Guangzhou Tower and burns all the account books, leaving the ashes to form a new auditing standard: love is not a liability, but an overdue fixed asset.
Purpose: Real redemption is to tear up the wrong accounts written by others with your own hands