Chapter 13: Those Who Don’t Love You Find Fault Even in Your Breath

Inside the box were precisely those small items that Jiang Yue had previously told Aunt Liu to throw away—things that held little value to her, such as gifts I had given her and the scarf she had personally knitted for me.

Jiang Yue looked surprised upon seeing them. "Didn't I tell you to throw these out last time? How come they’re still here?"

Aunt Liu quickly explained, "I thought you were just upset at the time, so I kept them in case you wanted them later..."

Jiang Yue sighed softly, unwilling to look again, and waved her hand. "Throw them away. They’re useless now."

"Alright."

As Aunt Liu turned to leave, Dai Rong suddenly called her back, "Wait a moment."

Dai Rong approached and took out an old-fashioned music box from the chest.

She looked surprised and turned to Jiang Yue. "Sweetheart, isn’t this the music box your father and I brought back from Russia for you? Why is it here?"

Jiang Yue’s face was expressionless. "It was broken, so I threw it away, but Chu Jianghe picked it up and repaired it."

Dai Rong was momentarily stunned, then pressed the music box’s button.

She suddenly chuckled, "He’s quite thoughtful, isn’t he?"

Then she curled her lips. "That’s about all he knows how to do. He really went to great lengths to please you."

Jiang Yue remained indifferent. "Let’s go, Mom."

Dai Rong put the music box back into the chest and casually asked, "You don’t want this music box anymore?"

Jiang Yue shook her head, paused briefly, then turned to Aunt Liu. "Aunt Liu, put this chest back in Chu Jianghe’s room for now. Don’t touch it."

"Okay," Aunt Liu replied and left.

Only then did Jiang Yue and her mother head out. I had no choice but to follow them to the car.

Along the way, Jiang Yue’s mood was clearly poor; she stared silently out the window.

Dai Rong, feeling pained, kept comforting her, "Sweetheart, is it because you saw everything Chu Jianghe did for you and it’s hard to accept that he’s gone?"

Jiang Yue paused, then shook her head. "No, I don’t care at all."

I had become numb; no matter what she said, it no longer hurt me.

For so many years, in her eyes, I was just someone dispensable.

Since our marriage, she never cared about me, never initiated conversation, let alone lived like a normal couple.

Those things were luxuries I never even dared to hope for.

Yet I kept waiting, hoping that by treating her well, I could melt the coldness in her heart.

In the end, I was mistaken.

In this world, to those who don’t love you, even your breath is an offense.

---

My soul followed them all the way to the residence of Jiang Yue’s parents.

Her father had taken over the family business, a wealthy enterprise. They were reportedly among the first in Qingcheng to live in villas.

Though a bit old, the villa district was ranked among the top ten in Qingcheng.

There was a natural lake inside, its waters crystal clear, with willow trees lining both banks.

This season, the willows were lush and magnificent.

Despite being married to Jiang Yue for so many years, I had only been here once—during the first Spring Festival after our wedding.

Since then, she never let me come again, and her parents never welcomed me.

Upon entering, Dai Rong spoke to Jiang Yue, "Sweetheart, all these years, I’ve been trying to find you a boyfriend, but you always said no. I know you still care about that boy named Cheng Jun, but so many years have passed..."

"Mom," Jiang Yue interrupted, "he’s back. Cheng Jun is back."

"When did he come back?"

"Not long ago."

"Oh!"

Dai Rong pondered for a moment, then asked, "Did you go to see him?"

"Yes, he explained why he left without a word back then."

Jiang Yue hesitated, then said, "His family’s company was in trouble at the time, facing financial entanglements, and even threats against his family’s safety. He was afraid it would affect me, so he left for abroad without saying goodbye. He only came back after everything was settled."

"Didn’t he try to contact you all these years?" Dai Rong asked, puzzled.

Jiang Yue shook her head. "No, but he always had me in his heart. The moment he returned, he came looking for me."

Dai Rong smiled, "So you still want to be with him?"

Jiang Yue nodded without hesitation.

It was clear that she still saw him as her first love. Even after leaving without a word for so many years, his sudden return and a few words were enough for her to believe him.

All these years, I did so much for her, yet she turned a blind eye.

Simply put, when there is no love, you simply do not see.

But if there’s no love, why give me hope?

To give hope, then dash it away—

---

Isn’t that like stitching up a wound only to stab it again?

Forget it. It’s like this now; no point in dwelling on it.

After a brief silence, Dai Rong said to Jiang Yue, "Can you ask him to come to our house tonight? Your father and I want to meet him."

Jiang Yue seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. "I’ll call him and see if he’s available."

She then called Cheng Jun.

The way she spoke to him was all smiles—so different from how she talked to me.

After a while, she put down the phone and said to her mother, "Mom, he said he’s free."

"Good," Dai Rong nodded, then turned to the housekeeper. "Zhang Jie, prepare dinner. Make the seafood I brought back from Japan last time, and decant the wine ahead of time."

Though I was numb—toward Jiang Yue, toward Dai Rong, toward whatever they did to me—I still felt a pang hearing those words.

She had never treated me this well—let alone with seafood and wine from abroad.

I would be grateful if she spoke to me in a normal tone.

Such blatant favoritism only proved this had been a mistake from the very beginning.

---

That afternoon, Dai Rong stayed with Jiang Yue.

Actually, Jiang Yue wasn’t sad; she simply didn’t want to think about me.

With her mother by her side, her mood visibly improved. She even insisted on cooking a dish Cheng Jun liked.

She didn’t know how to cook well. The first year we were together, she tried.

The taste was awful, but I ate it because she had made it for me.

After that, I never enjoyed any of her tenderness again.

It turned out those moments of warmth were never for me—even at the start, they were meant to keep me, since I resembled Cheng Jun somewhat.

In the kitchen, she fumbled awkwardly, watching videos to learn while she cooked.

It reminded me of when she knitted that scarf for me—just as clumsy.

But those moments of tenderness were never mine.

Honestly, it was quite heartbreaking.

But I don’t love her anymore. Not at all.