Chapter 2. The Final Exit.

Whatever went down on that rainy night completely evaporated under the bright morning sun the next day.

Right after that, I was sent off on a business trip that lasted over two weeks. I was so slammed that my brain was consumed entirely by KPIs and deadlines, leaving zero room to dwell on my love life. So when I finally dragged my suitcase home, punched in the door code, and swung the door open… I froze dead in my tracks.

Because the person standing there to greet me was To Du.

She was wearing a lace camisole dress that I recognized instantly. That dress used to hang in Tran Vong Tan’s closet, and I was the one who put it there.

To Du smiled, striking the pose of the lady of the house. “Do you need something, Miss Lam?”

I rubbed my temples, way too exhausted to even bother feeling jealous, let alone ask why she was here or where the hell Tran Vong Tan had vanished to. I just forced the most polite smile I could muster. “I’m just here to pick up my things. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

Three years of living together meant my belongings weren’t a tiny load, but they weren’t overwhelming either. It still took me a few heavy trips up and down the stairs to pack everything out. I even decided to haul away the potted rose on the balcony, despite the fact that Tran Vong Tan had been the one tending to it all these years.

To Du eyed my pile of luggage, her tone laced with casual malice. “Make sure you double-check everything, Miss Lam. Wouldn’t want you leaving anything behind.” She raised her chin, putting on a sweet face while her eyes gleamed with pure venom. “After all, now that someone new is moving in, the old trash should really be cleared out. If you miss something… it’d be such a hassle to dig it out of the dumpster later, wouldn’t it?”

I kept smiling, feeling pathetic even to myself. “Thanks for reminding me… Now that you mention it, there is one last thing I forgot.”

My eyes slowly swept down her figure, a faint brow raised. “The dress you’re wearing happens to be mine. Take it off and give it back.”

“You!” To Du instantly crossed her arms over her chest, her face flushing crimson, whether from shame or fury, I couldn’t tell.

I waved my hand dismissively, letting out a light chuckle. “On second thought, I’m a bit of a neat freak. Keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

I dragged my suitcase back to the apartment I’d been quietly renting on my own. Even while living with Tran Vong Tan for three years, I had never given this place up. Guess I was always looking ahead: I knew deep down that sooner or later, I’d wake up from that dream. At least I gave myself an exit strategy.

After a quick wash-up, I collapsed onto the bed and passed out before another thought could cross my mind. By the time I woke up, dusk was settling in. The room was growing dark, and a hollow ache settled in my chest. It felt like the entire world had quietly moved on without me. Luckily, my phone chimed right on cue, pulling me out of the spiral.

It was my mother. She ran through her usual script: How was I eating? Sleeping well? How was work?

I gave her a few reassuring answers. Near the end of the call, her voice suddenly cracked. “Am Am… are you coming home for the New Year?”

I was caught off guard, the New Year was still months away. “I’m not sure yet. Why, Mom?”

Silence stretched over the line for a moment before she murmured softly, “Nothing… I just miss you.”

Those four quiet words hit me like a physical blow. I grew up in a broken home. Warmth wasn’t a concept in my childhood; there was only a drunk, gambling, volatile father. When he won at the tables, life was a little easier, at least we avoided a beating. But when he lost, my mother became his punching bag.

When I was five years old, I stood peeking through the crack of our old wooden door, watching him beat her mercilessly. Crying and screaming inside, I pounded on the door outside until my knuckles bled, but I couldn’t get it open. That was my life, until the day his rage finally turned on me. The moment his fist landed on me for the first time, my mother lost her mind. She grabbed a butcher knife, her eyes bloodshot as she roared, “You bastard! Touch my daughter again and I’ll kill us both!”

Terrified, my father spewed a few curses and bolted out the door. My mother dropped the knife, pulled me into her arms, and sobbed uncontrollably. “Don’t be scared, Am Am… Mommy’s taking you away.”

From that day on, she raised me all by herself. And my entire focus became studying hard, making money, and making it big so she could finally rest. But as it turned out, I had forgotten the most important thing: she didn’t need my money. She needed me.

I checked my bank balance, a string of digits long enough for me to take an early retirement, and realized I had no reason left to stay in Beijing. A week later, I wrapped up my remaining projects and handed in my resignation. The night I left, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over me.

Right before boarding my flight, I sent Tran Vong Tan a single text:

[I’m going back to my hometown to get married. Don’t contact me again.]

Wrapping up three years, clean and simple, in one message.

—

Life back in my hometown was slow and peaceful. To keep myself from slipping into overthinking, I threw myself into gardening, growing flowers, and living like a retiree.

Unsurprisingly, my sudden retreat made my mother suspicious. No one knows a child better than her mother. From the moment I rolled my suitcase through her front door, she knew something was off, even if she didn’t push for answers. As for me, I didn’t even know where to begin, so I just pretended everything was fine.

“Uncle Tong’s son heard you were back in town,” my mother casually mentioned one afternoon while I was lounging in the sun, eyes half-closed. “You haven’t seen each other in years. He wants to catch up.”

I gave an indifferent nod. “Sure…”

Taking my lack of resistance as a green light, she immediately locked it down. “Great, I already agreed on your behalf. Just a quick walk and dinner.”

I let out a quiet sigh. Knowing I was in no position to argue, I caved. “Fine. A quick meeting won’t kill me.”