The night before the flood, my husband left our daughter at home and went to see the woman he had always loved. Frantic with worry, I demanded an explanation, but he looked at me with nothing but irritation. “Xia Zhinuan, I’m saving someone. Can you stop being so petty?” Before I could respond, I heard his beloved Song Qinghuan urging him on from the other end of the call. The next second, he hung up. When I called back, he had already blocked me. I hated him, hated him to the core. But later, Ji Tingzhou went mad, throwing himself into the river again and again, just to search for the daughter who had died long ago.
