Director Jiang, don't let the divorce get out of control.

Wen Ruan tightened her grip on the doorknob slightly, her gaze calmly sweeping over Jiang Yubai: "I can go back by myself."

Without waiting for his response, she opened the door and went straight out.

Jiang Yubai stared at the closed door, his eyes darkening slightly.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped downstairs at the apartment building.

The curtains were half-drawn, and the room was dimly lit.

Wen Ruan sat on the sofa for a long time, so long that the sky outside the window turned from gray to dark, her mind filled with the scene seen through the crack in the door—

She got up and went into the bedroom, pulling open the bottom drawer of the bedside table.

The kraft paper document bag lay quietly inside; she hadn't touched it since she got married.

She untied the rope, pulled out the few pages of paper, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

The above is the prenuptial agreement that was signed at the time.

The terms are clearly stated: each party's property is separate, they will not interfere with each other's private lives, and if either party proposes termination, the other party must unconditionally cooperate.

In the signature section, Jiang Yubai's handwriting was neat and restrained, each stroke reflecting his character.

On Monday morning, as soon as Wen Ruan arrived at the Graduate Institute of Translation and Interpretation, Shen Yicheng called her on the internal line and asked her to come to his office.

"There's a business dinner on Friday night at the Hyatt Hotel, with a delegation from a European precision instrument company. They need bilingual (French and English) interpreters. You haven't scheduled any interpreters yet. Are you willing to take the job?"

Shen Yicheng pushed the documents over.

Wen Ruan flipped through the pages, her gaze landing on the organizer's information section—which was blank.

"Why didn't the organizers write that?" Wen Ruan asked suspiciously.

"The project is still in the early stages of negotiation, and confidentiality is required to prevent leaks from affecting the stock price. On the day of the banquet, the person in charge will attend in a private capacity." Shen Yicheng placed his fingers on the table.

Wen Ruan didn't think much of it; this kind of operation was not uncommon.

She closed the file: "Okay, I'll take it."

"Check-in at 6:30, start at 7:00. The organizer will provide formal attire." Shen Yicheng marked the schedule. "I'll have the contact person send you the foreign party's materials."

"OK."

On Tuesday evening, when Wen Ruan arrived home, she saw a young woman in a black suit standing at the door, carrying a champagne-colored dust bag.

Wen Ruan hesitated. "Hello, who are you?"

The woman turned around and smiled, "Hello, Miss Wen. The organizer asked me to send over the dress for Friday night's banquet in advance. Please feel free to adjust it if it doesn't fit."

Wen Ruan thanked him and went home, then unzipped her jacket.

A long, light blue satin dress was revealed, shimmering softly under the light, like a lake whose surface had been ripped apart.

The cut is minimalist, the waist is perfectly cinched, and the skirt drapes naturally.

The matching high heels are adorned with sparkling transparent rhinestones.

Wen Ruan was slightly taken aback.

It's just an evening gown; normally, a standard rental dress wouldn't be custom-made to this exquisite degree.

But Director Shen did say that "there will be dresses provided at that time." She didn't think too much about it. After trying them on, the size fit perfectly, and she hung them in her closet.

Jiang Yubai came out of the study and saw the dress in her hand: "Did you buy new clothes?"

"It's for work, the formal attire provided by the organizers for the Friday foreign affairs business dinner."

Friday evening arrived in the blink of an eye.

Wen Ruan changed into that light blue satin dress. In the mirror, her shoulders and neck were smooth, and the hem of the dress reached her ankles. As she walked, tiny glints of light slid across the satin.

She smoothed her hair and applied only a thin layer of lipstick to brighten her complexion.

Half an hour later, the taxi stopped in front of the Hyatt Hotel.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the three-story-high dome, their light scattering like shattered gold across the marble floor.

Wen Ruan walked through the lobby in her high heels, and a waiter pushed open the door to the banquet hall.

There were already quite a few people in the hall.

A champagne tower shimmered with pale gold light in the center, amidst the elegant attire and clinking glasses.

As soon as Wen Ruan stepped through the door, her back suddenly tensed slightly.

She noticed a strange gaze fixed on her, like a fine needle pricking her skin.

She walked into the hall with a calm expression, her gaze sweeping over the crowd without making a sound... No one stared at her for long.

Wen Ruan frowned slightly and looked away.

It's normal for newcomers to be subconsciously glanced at a few times.

She stopped thinking about it, picked up a glass of sparkling water from the waiter's tray, and walked deeper into the banquet hall.

The foreign delegation has arrived.

The man at the head of the group was a French man in his fifties with neatly combed gray hair, who was chatting and laughing with the person next to him.

Wen Ruan recognized him as the person invited today, De Shang, the Asia-Pacific head of a precision instrument company.

She walked over, speaking fluent and composed French: "Mr. Deschamps, hello. I'm Wen Ruan, a translator sent by the Graduate Institute of Translation and Interpretation. I'll be accompanying you and your team tonight."

Deschamps turned his head at the sound of her voice, a hint of surprise flashing across his face as he looked at her, before he gave a polite smile and extended his hand: "Ms. Wen, hello. You are younger than I expected."

He squeezed her hand. "Your French has a very authentic Parisian accent. Where did you learn it?"

"I majored in French in college and later spent a year as an exchange student in Paris."

Wen Ruan withdrew her hand and slightly turned to indicate the layout of the banquet hall. "Tonight, we'll have a buffet reception first, followed by a brief networking session around 7:40. If there are any adjustments needed, please let me know."

Deschamps nodded, and the two exchanged a few words of precision instrument industry jargon. He was clearly satisfied with her professionalism.

The city lights outside the window lit up one after another, reflecting off the satin hem of her skirt at her feet.

The two chatted for about twenty minutes. Wen Ruan glanced at the time, then turned to Deschamps and said, "Mr. Deschamps, the buffet area is ready. I'll take you and your team there."

Deschamps nodded and followed her to the buffet area on the left side of the banquet hall.

Wen Ruan led the foreign representatives to their seats and, after confirming that the food and drinks were all in order, breathed a slight sigh of relief.

"Please use it first, I'm going to the restroom, I'll be right back."

Deschamps raised his hand, indicating that she could do as she pleased.

Wen Ruan walked through the crowd, pushed open the side door of the banquet hall, and turned into the restroom along the corridor.

A snow-white handkerchief was laid on the marble countertop. She turned on the tap, rinsed her hands, took out a tissue to dry them, and tidied up the stray hairs at her temples in front of the mirror.

She looked away, turned around, and opened the door.

Just as I reached the corner of the corridor, I bumped into someone.

The moment the other person saw her, they frowned. "Wen Ruan? What are you doing here?"

Wen Bowen was dressed in a well-tailored black suit, looking quite presentable for once.

His eyes were filled with astonishment and disbelief.

Wen Ruan's fingertips tightened suddenly.

A sense of foreboding crept into my heart, like ink dripping into clear water, quickly spreading.

"That's what I should be asking you. What are you doing here?"

Wen Bowen snapped out of his daze, sized her up, his gaze sweeping over her light blue satin dress. A mocking smile curled at the corner of his lips: "Didn't you say you weren't coming? What are you pretending for?"

Wen Ruan's heart sank.

"What did you say?"

Wen Bowen scoffed, crossed his arms, and looked at her mockingly, "You show up here dressed like this today, and you're telling me you didn't know?"