You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

Sunlight streams through the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, its harsh glare filtered out by the explosion-proof glass.

It turned into a ground covered in tiny golden fragments.

The Turkish handmade cashmere carpet is laid on the second-floor living room of the Cloud Top Manor.

A faint chamomile scent wafted in the air.

Shen Wanzhou sat on the thick, soft cushion with her legs bent.

She was wearing a light gray knitted maxi dress.

Her long hair was loosely tied back with a sandalwood hairpin, with a few stray strands playfully hanging down her fair neck.

She was holding a rattle drum with colorful soft rubber in her hand.

"Clang, clang, clang."

The small drumsticks struck the drumhead, producing a crisp sound.

"Mu Zhou, look here."

Her voice was soft, and her wrists rotated gently in mid-air.

On the other side of the carpet.

Chen Muzhou, who is almost one year old, is wearing a pink bear onesie.

She was sticking her little bottom out, her two chubby little hands supporting her on the soft mat.

The little mouth, which hadn't grown all its teeth, was slightly open.

Glistening saliva slid down her pink lips.

A drop of drool landed on the bib on her chest, leaving a thin, silvery thread.

Hearing the sound of the rattle drum, the little girl struggled to turn over.

Her bright, sparkling eyes were fixed on the toy in her mother's hand.

Just as Shen Wanzhou was about to hand over the rattle drum.

The little guy suddenly let go of the carpet.

He lunged forward.

"Mother."

A child's innocent voice rang out in the living room.

His speech was unclear, even somewhat slurred and sticky.

But these two short syllables.

It landed in the empty, quiet room like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Shen Wanzhou's right hand, which was holding the rattle drum, was frozen in mid-air.

The transparent plastic bead struck the outer shell, making a soft "click" sound.

Then all was quiet.

Her eyes widened instantly, her gaze fixed on her daughter, who was less than half a meter away.

The beating heart inside the chest cavity.

It felt as if someone was gripping it tightly with an invisible hand.

My breathing rhythm instantly became completely disordered.

Her slender back stiffened abruptly beneath the knitted skirt.

The darkness of being stuffed into the trunk when I was ten years old.

The kidnappers' rough curses and the icy, bone-chilling feel of the rope tightening around my wrists.

For more than a decade, he would tremble day and night whenever he heard the footsteps of strangers.

Those dark and lonely things that clung to the first half of her life like venomous snakes.

Standing before this tiny life that smells of milk.

It's like encountering the scorching sun of the dog days of summer.

It melted away inch by inch, shattered into pieces.

A pitiful blush quickly rose to the tip of Shen Wanzhou's nose.

My eyes felt hot, and my vision was completely blurred by the mist in less than a second.

She slowly put down the rattle drum in her hand.

The toy fell on the carpet and rolled half a meter away.

Two fair hands trembled slightly uncontrollably.

Go over there.

It passed under Chen Muzhou's soft armpit.

He scooped the little meatball with its milky aroma into his arms.

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

"Mu Zhou..."

Her voice was hoarse and had a heavy nasal tone.

He buried his face deep in his daughter's soft hair.

Scalding tears streamed down her face.

Large drops of water rolled down her chin.

With a "click".

It hit Chen Muzhou's pink and plump cheeks.

"Giggle giggle..."

The little one didn't know why his mother was shedding water droplets.

She found the wetness on her face quite amusing.

Two chubby little hands waved and slapped Shen Wanzhou's cheek haphazardly.

He kept uttering syllables.

"Mom...Mom!"

"Don't cry."

From the other side of the carpet, a voice, though young, sounded mature.

Chen Nianshen, dressed in a suit, put down the Lego space station she was building.

He walked steadily and sauntered over to Shen Wanzhou's side with his short legs.

The little guy had a cold face that was exactly like Chen Yuan's.

His brows furrowed slightly.

He stretched out his short arm, mimicking his father's usual movements.

He patted Shen Wanzhou's back clumsily, one pat after another.

"Little sister, you're silly, you called me by the wrong name."

Chen Nian glanced coldly at her younger sister in her arms.

"Dad said, 'Don't let Mom shed any water droplets.'"

"Your sister made you cry, so throw her away."

Shen Wanzhou listened to her son's domineering CEO-style speech.

Tears still clung to her eyelashes, yet the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn upwards in a smile.

Her dimples sank deep into the corners of her eyes.

She loosened one hand and pulled her cool-looking son into her arms as well.

"Nobody will throw it away."

She rested her chin on her son's small shoulder and sniffed her red nose.

The one big and two small ones were huddled together on the carpet.

The sunlight stretched their shadows long, making them overlap.

Those nightmares that used to torment her in the dead of night.

At this moment, I was completely healed by the real, everyday life.

The kitchen is open-plan on the first floor.

Warm water from the tap was washing over several large, plump Shine Muscat grapes.

Chen Yuan was wearing a white cotton T-shirt.

He wore an old black apron around his waist.

He was holding a small, pure silver fruit knife in his hand.

With a swift movement of the knife, the thin, cicada-wing-like green fruit peel was completely removed.

With a flick of the knife tip.

The tiny seeds and pits in the grapes were carefully removed.

Not a single drop of the sweet juice was lost.

A piece of red dragon fruit was cut into equal small cubes.

They were neatly arranged in a deep white porcelain dish.

This is Shen Wanzhou's favorite fruit combination after her afternoon nap.

Chen Yuan took off his apron.

He casually draped his arm over the back of the kitchen counter chair.

Carrying the white porcelain fruit plate, she strode towards the stairs.

The leather shoes trod on the wooden steps, steady and silent.

Walk to the door of the living room on the second floor.

Chen Yuan stopped in his tracks.

Chen Yuan, who was carrying a freshly cut fruit platter out of the kitchen, leaned his tall body against the door frame. Looking at the scene of the mother and daughter's affection, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, and a strong "sour taste" appeared in his deep black eyes.