The place remained exactly as I had decorated it in my past life—the beige leather sofa, the Chinese tea set on the coffee table, even the abstract painting on the wall hadn't been replaced.
"What would you like to drink, Ms. Nan Zhi?" Lin Xuyan asked eagerly, his fingers nervously rubbing against his suit sleeve. "Red wine or whiskey?"
"Just warm water, thank you." I perched on the edge of the sofa, my gaze sweeping over the TV cabinet where our wedding photo had once stood—now replaced with a bland landscape painting. In my past life, I had polished that frame every week. Now, it was as if it had never existed.
Lin Xuyan handed me a glass of lemon water, deliberately letting his fingers linger against my palm for a second too long. Suppressing the urge to pull away, I feigned shyness and took a small sip.
"Do you live here alone, Mr. Lin?" I glanced around, infusing my voice with just the right amount of naive curiosity.
"Yes. Sometimes it feels… too empty." He sat down beside me, close enough that I could smell the mix of cologne and tobacco on him. "Especially after my wife… left."
I turned toward the balcony. "You still keep plants, I see."
In my past life, I had loved gardenias. The balcony had always been filled with them. Now, though the pots remained, the plants inside were withered and dying
"My wife planted them. After she passed, I… never had the heart to take care of them."
I stood and walked to the balcony, lightly brushing a brittle leaf with my fingertips. "What a shame. They must have been beautiful." I turned deliberately, letting my skirt swirl in an elegant arc. "You must have loved your wife very much."
Lin Xuyan immediately adopted a sorrowful expression. "She was the love of my life. If I could have died in her place—"
Before he could finish, the front door slammed open with a deafening crash.
"Lin Xuyan! You—" Zhou Yuqing's shrill scream cut off abruptly. She stood frozen in the doorway, her flawlessly made-up face twisted with fury as her eyes darted between me and Lin Xuyan. "What the hell is this?!"
I set my glass down slowly, smiling innocently. "Oh? What brings you here?"
"You bitch!" Zhou Yuqing stormed forward in her stiletto heels, her hand flying toward my face.
I caught her wrist effortlessly, my voice dropping to an icy whisper. "Mr. Lin and I were just talking."
"Just talking?" She wrenched her arm free with a derisive laugh. "Sneaking into a man's house at night—don't play innocent with me!"
I turned to Lin Xuyan, who had gone pale. "Last time, you said you two were just friends. But given how recently your wife passed, surely you wouldn't…"
Lin Xuyan grabbed Zhou Yuqing's arm, trying to drag her away. I took a step back, letting my expression shift to shock and hurt. "I see. It seems I've interrupted something." I picked up my purse, my heart cold with irony—what a familiar scene. Only this time, the roles were reversed.
Lin Xuyan panicked, grabbing my wrist. "Ms. Nan Zhi, please let me explain—"
"Let go!" I yanked my arm free, my voice trembling just enough to sound wounded. "I despise liars."
Zhou Yuqing, seeing this, snapped completely. She snatched the glass from the table and hurled it at me. I sidestepped just in time—it shattered against the wall, spraying shards everywhere.
"You lunatic!" Lin Xuyan finally lost his patience, hauling Zhou Yuqing toward the door. "Get out!"
"Lin Xuyan! How dare you?!" She thrashed violently, her perfectly styled curls now a wild mess. "After everything I've done for you—for this slut—!"
The door slammed shut, muffling her screams. Standing alone in the center of the living room, I suddenly laughed.
How ironic.
The same house. The same man. The same mistress drama.
Except this time, I was the one who walked away victorious.
Just as I was about to leave, the door burst open again. Lin Xuyan stumbled back in, breathless, his hair disheveled. "Ms. Nan Zhi, I'm so sorry—she's insane, I swear there's nothing between us—"
"Save it." I cut him off coldly. "I think it's best we keep our distance from now on."
As I stepped out of the villa that had once been ours, the night wind brushed my cheeks, stripping away the last traces of my act.
The taste of revenge was more bitter than I'd imagined.
But this was only the beginning.