Her name is Mu Wan’an.
Later, whenever people in Ancheng mentioned her, their eyes held both disdain and envy.
He found her on a rainy night and took her home. Narrowing his eyes with a faint smile, he asked, “Is marrying me such a hardship?”
She straightened her back and smiled seductively. “Young Master Gu has someone else in his heart and a messy private life. Marrying you couldn’t be more of a hardship.”
Through the pale blue smoke, Gu Nancheng’s handsome face blurred. “But I’ve set my sights on you.”
There was no escape for any woman Gu Nancheng set his sights on. The next day, every wealthy person received a message: anyone who dared lend money to the fallen socialite Mu Wan’an would be crossing him.
Much later, the rising director Mu Wan’an was sentenced to four years in prison for attempted murder.
Rumors flew everywhere: Mrs. Gu had nearly run over her romantic rival because of jealousy.
They said Young Master Gu had waited all day, only for her to smile at the prison guard and say, “I won’t see him. Not ever.”
Four years later, after her release, she smiled and effortlessly broke the vow she’d made. In a glamorous long dress, she appeared before him and reached out with a smile, just like they’d done the first time they met. “Mr. Gu, would you be interested in investing in my new movie?”
He exhaled a plume of smoke and watched her with an unreadable gaze. “I thought you refused to see me.”
“I have a child to support.”
Gu Nancheng seemed to have developed a psychological disorder, loving his ex-wife with an almost pathological devotion.
Even though she never turned down flowers from other men.
Even though she was sometimes photographed by paparazzi dining with tycoons from the financial world.
Even though… her child wasn’t his at all.
One day, dead drunk, she smiled with sultry eyes and slurred speech. “Young Master Gu… he’s probably just a masochist. He only loves the one who doesn’t love him back… It’s like this now… It was like this before… It’s always been this way…”
Everyone saw Young Master Gu slowly approach to pick up the woman he loved and wished they could disappear.
Without a word, he carried her to the car.
She leaned close, her breath reeking of alcohol, and smiled as she rubbed against him. “Are you angry?”
“How could I be?” He gazed at her, his smile never reaching his eyes. “If I could get angry, I wouldn’t have to be a masochist.”
Everyone knows you’re the obsession that’s driven me mad
The author has changed their pseudonym to "Ten O'Clock Listening to the Wind." There are still books with this new name on Qidian.com.
It's very well written. Why aren't you writing a new book?