Rui nodded obediently.
After breakfast, the group went to Rui’s room.
Twenty minutes later, Li Yaru came out with a solemn face, cold eyes gripping a memory card tightly.
The woman knew it was over and confessed quickly—someone had hired her with a generous reward to follow Li Yaru, monitor her movements, and record with a camera.
Li Yaru only asked once, “Were they planning to kidnap me?”
The woman shook her head repeatedly, “No, ma’am. The person paying me wanted me to secretly protect your safety. Kidnapping you is absolutely impossible.”
Li Yaru flipped through the photos; her expression darkened bit by bit.
There were pictures of her chatting happily with Kurt, leaving a handmade shop with Lorenzo, receiving tulips from Lorenzo, and running wildly down the street hand in hand with Lorenzo…
It was Zhuang Qiting.
She hardly doubted it was him.
He had come this far, still not giving up—sending people to follow her, spy on her, monitor her.
What was he so uneasy about? What was he so obsessed with?
Li Yaru wanted to dissect Zhuang Qiting, to see carefully what was really on his mind.
Ada watched Li Yaru’s silent retreat with growing unease, her heart pounding.
She had a vague premonition that another storm was about to brew.
“Rui, what do we do? I’m afraid the Madam and Mr. will fight again.”
Rui shrugged helplessly and comforted her with a Northeast accent, “When gods fight, we little shrimp can’t do much. We’ll have to play it by ear.”
……
Li Yaru had Italian lunch with Kurt at noon, then didn’t leave her room again.
She sat on the sofa, moodless, staring at the vibrant Carola Rose in the vase.
The red roses, fully hydrated, opened their petals—each full, grand, and bright.
Zhuang Qiting sent her four messages, but she didn’t reply.
At seven, the doorbell rang.
“Ah Rou, it’s me.”
Li Yaru’s expression trembled like ripples. She rose and walked barefoot to the entrance, opening the door.
The scent of the man flowed in with the air, like a glass of thick brandy—mellow and strong, stirring the quiet air.
“Ah Rou, why didn’t you reply? Do you know how worried I was?” Zhuang Qiting said, relieved to see her safe.
Li Yaru lightly withdrew her gaze and smiled, “Just didn’t reply. What could happen? Was I on a date with some wild man? Or did I sleep with one?”
“Ah Rou. Don’t say that.” Zhuang Qiting frowned, displeased with her nonsense.
Li Yaru went back to the sofa, her delicate feet tapping the table legs idly.
“Why aren’t you happy?”
Sensing the subtle tension, Zhuang Qiting thought of the private detective currently out of touch.
He lowered his eyes, sat beside Li Yaru, reached to embrace her but she deftly dodged.
His arm froze midair, then dropped.
He studied her face carefully and softly said, “Ah Rou, I have to know what you’re really feeling.”
Zhuang Qiting had just finished work in London and flew straight to Rome without pause.
Even his dinner was eaten on the plane.
His eyelids twitched nonstop during the flight, his heart tied to a weight of unease.
He was truly anxious, always because of Li Yaru.
“Is it because the person spying on me didn’t report back, so you didn’t know?” Li Yaru pulled at a rose petal, lazily playing with it between her fingers.
Zhuang Qiting was silent, his deep and sharp face cold without expression.
In his sight, Li Yaru’s pretty fingertips tore the rose into pieces.
“Ah Rou, it’s not what you think. I can explain.”
“Explain what?” Li Yaru squeezed the rose stem hard, juice soaking her nails.
She smiled and sized him up, “Zhuang Qiting, we’re divorced. You’re not going to give up, huh? You have to find eyes to watch me, to control me twenty-four-seven?”
Her voice unconsciously rose.
“Ah Rou, calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“Ah Rou—it’s my fault.” Zhuang Qiting closed his tired eyes.
He admitted he was a mess inside.
Outside, he was a man of power and wealth, but before Li Yaru, he was just ordinary.
Their fragile relationship was hard won. He didn’t want it to freeze over again.
“Zhuang Xiansheng, I just don’t understand why you have to spy on me. Are you that afraid I’d be with another man behind your back? Let me tell you, today I did everything I wanted. I slept with a man you didn’t know—right in the bed we shared last night. It was so intense—”
“Shut up! Li Yaru!” Zhuang Qiting opened his eyes and looked at her coldly, the darkness in his gaze hiding a sharp rage.
Li Yaru grabbed a stack of photos and threw them hard at him.
“I thought your change was real, but I was stupid, naive, ridiculous to believe you. Men like you are not worthy of trust. Men like you are born unable to respect others, because in your eyes, everyone is just a dog.”
Zhuang Qiting’s heart ached sharply at her words.
He said coldly, “Don’t I respect you, Li Yaru? I’m already willing to be stepped on by you. Tell me, which man is worthy of your trust? That pretentious gentleman? Or that little butler who insists on staying by your side?”
“Lorenzo has never crossed any lines with me. Neither has Sijie! They’re better than you.”
“Yes, they’re better than me.”
Zhuang Qiting’s gaze grew colder.
Jealousy surged like a wave.
He thought of Li Yaru running freely with another man, happy and unrestrained.
He thought of the dozens of boxes filled with gifts she carefully picked for others.
He sneered coldly, “So that’s why you’re so eager to divorce me, to ditch me, so you can openly flirt with those men and be all lovey-dovey.”
Li Yaru stared at him in disbelief.
Her trembling fingers crushed the rose branch, “Who did I flirt with? Lovey-dovey…”
“I know.” Zhuang Qiting said tiredly.
“So in your heart, my divorce is just for flirting and lovey-dovey with other men.”
“You don’t care about my love, and you refuse to give it to me alone.”
His voice was low and steady, like a hammer striking Li Yaru’s heart, making her shiver uncontrollably.
The broken rose fell, hitting the top of her foot.
She stammered, “…I don’t care, I…”
He actually made her talk about… love.
In his eyes, she was a woman who didn’t care about his love and wouldn’t give it to him alone.
Li Yaru thought of all the years by his side, the thousands of nights, the marriage, the children, the storms endured.
She had wanted to leave him, roughly, but in the end, they were still entangled.
A wordless grievance welled up.
Li Yaru looked at his profile.
“Zhuang Qiting, I want to ask you—after twenty-five years of marriage, what do you really see me as? Your wife? Your toy to control? Your sex doll? Your object to exercise dominance on?”
Zhuang Qiting frowned deeply.
His wife’s words were harsh.
Li Yaru paused for a few seconds, touched her own face, smiled faintly, then continued slowly,
“You always tell me to behave, to obey. Whenever I defy you, you find all sorts of ways to make me give in. For all these years, I’ve never been rebellious or openly defiant, but… I’ve never won against you. In your heart, I’m your woman and your pet. I spent all afternoon thinking about why you have to spy on me.”
“I never treated you like a pet. Don’t jump to conclusions, Ah Rou.”
Zhuang Qiting had never seen this side of Li Yaru.
Her vulnerability shocked him even more than her anger.
He instinctively reached out to hold her.
He just wanted this meaningless fight to end immediately.
“It’s my fault, Ah Rou. Don’t think like that, okay?”
Li Yaru raised a hand to stop him.
“No, I finally understand.”
Zhuang Qiting looked at her.
Her cheeks were pale, but her lips were a shocking red.
“I never trusted you from the bottom of my heart, so I have to watch you, control you, hold you tightly in my palm.
In my heart, your personality is the original sin—you’re not gentle, obedient, or well-behaved. You’re not the elegant lady I wanted, so you’re not trustworthy.
I’m unwilling to like such a rough, vulgar woman, so I persist in disciplining you…
I always say the men outside are bad, slutty, and tell you to stay away from them.
But actually, it’s me who’s bad, me who’s slutty—not that they want to seduce you, but that I think you’d seduce them…
It’s not that I don’t care about your love… it’s that I…”
He never felt his love had any weight.
Li Yaru trembled, unable to say more, and finally tears fell—hot and burning her eyes and cheeks, soaking her skirt.
Zhuang Qiting watched his wife like this, his mind blank.
The oxygen in his nostrils grew thin.
His soft heart surged with a pain deeper than ever before.
“No…” The two words were caught in his throat.
Li Yaru stood up and turned away, waving her hand at him.
“Let’s leave it at that, Zhuang Xiansheng. I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I’m so tired. I’m going to sleep now. I won’t come out.”
She walked barefoot back to the bedroom, each step like treading on drifting clouds, feeling like she was about to fall.
“Ah Rou.” Zhuang Qiting hurried after her.
“Please… don’t come closer.” Li Yaru whispered.
She was a forty-four-year-old woman.
She shouldn’t cry in front of a man—it was so shameful.
She went into the bedroom, and before closing the door, she said to the man just a step behind,
“Don’t contact me privately anymore.”
The door closed softly, silence falling.
But Zhuang Qiting heard a bomb-like explosion, a bang that shattered his heart.
At eight in Rome, the city was brilliantly lit.
Tourists still lined up in circles around the Yuyuan Chi, tossing coins and making wishes.
Li Yaru sat on the balcony, propping her chin in her palm, watching the traffic and pedestrians blur past.
Tears blurred her vision and wet her hand.
Night gradually fell; the streetlights dimmed, and people went home.
Li Yaru dove under the covers, wrapping herself in deeper darkness, and fell asleep.
She thought Zhuang Qiting had long since left.
She didn’t know he had spent the entire night sitting by her bedroom door, his perfectly creased suit pants rumpled, his meticulously gelled hair messy and drooping over his forehead.
The night passed slowly.
Zhuang Qiting didn’t know what he was thinking.
Li Yaru’s words echoed in his ears again and again, hundreds of times.
They had so many misunderstandings between them.
He felt no sleepiness and stayed up until dawn.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the hands.
6:30 a.m.
He pushed himself off the carpet, his legs numb and tingling.
Leaning against the wall, he stayed still for a moment before stepping lightly and leaving the suite.