The moment Shen Qingqian received the diagnosis, she felt as if her world had collapsed.

The four words 'Late Stage Gastric Cancer' pierced her mind like a sharp sword.

Shen Qingqian did not know how she managed to wander back home. She slightly moved her vacant eyes and looked at the villa that was colder than the keys in her hand. Slowly, she slid down against the door.

Her mind was a complete chaos.

Was she really going to die?

Shen Qingqian closed her eyes, a cold tear silently slid down her cheek.

After a while, the sound of unlocking was heard from above her head, followed by the iron door shaking twice.

"Eh? Mr. Leng, what's going on?" A foreign yet seductive voice came from outside the door, Shen Qingqian's body stiffened.

She wanted to stand up, but her legs were numb. She tried for a while, but fell heavily back to the ground.

Hearing the noise inside, the man outside frowned and displayed a trace of undisguised anxiety in his eyes. Yet, he kicked the door harshly.

Shen Qingqian was swept a little distance on the ground by the door, which was forced open enough for a person to come in.

A shiny black leather shoe stepped in through the gap, followed by the tall figure of a man appearing in Shen Qingqian's view.

Shen Qingqian followed the pair of shoes up to the sight of a finely tailored suit. The man had a tall and well-proportioned figure, a long neck that held the handsome face that once haunted Shen Qingqian's dreams.

At this moment, the man's brows were deeply furrowed, "Shen Qingqian, what kind of nonsense are you up to again!? Why are you sitting here? Welcoming me on your knees?"

With that, he even scoffed contemptuously, "Do you think I would touch you just because of this?"

“Mr. Cold~” That melodious voice rang again, and a pair of fair-skinned and slender hands hooked around the man's muscular waist from behind. Subsequently, a face adorned with delicate makeup appeared on the man's shoulder.

Shen Qingqian took a sharp breath, recognizing that the woman was none other than the currently popular young model, Yan Lingling.

Shen Qingqian widened her eyes in disbelief as she stared at Leng Feimo. The man, displeased, tucked the woman behind him into his arms.

A surge of anger exploded in Shen Qingqian's chest. Despite the discomfort in her legs, she stood up and pointed at the young woman who was smiling charmingly in Leng Feimo's arms, "This is my house, and you're not welcome here. Please leave immediately!"

The man raised an eyebrow, displeased, “Shen Qingqian, are you out of your mind? I'm the owner here. Whoever I want to come can come. Whoever I order to leave has to leave. Do you understand?"

Becoming flustered, Shen Qingqian was about to retort when a severe pain arose from her stomach. All she could do was grit her teeth and slowly crouch down.

Leng Feimo’s brow furrowed, and a hint of worry flashed through his narrowed eyes. However, he coldly huffed, "Shen Qingqian, save your drama."

Having said that, he did not give Shen Qingqian the opportunity to speak. He took Yan Lingling upstairs.

Shen Qingqian watched as the man left, accompanied by the triumphant smile of the young girl, her heart hurting more than her stomach.

It took a while for the abdominal pain to subside. Leaning on the wall, Shen Qingqian stood up weakly and returned to her room.

Even in her room, the young girl's occasional exclamations, screams, and laughter reverberated in her ears.

Shen Qingqian pursed her lips, trembling as she took out the already printed and signed divorce agreement from the bottom drawer.

Leng Feimo, since our marriage has only been in name and I don't have much time left, let's end it.

I will let you go, and also let myself go.

Holding the divorce agreement, Shen Qingqian quietly waited in her room.

It was only when the iron gate closed that everything in the villa finally settled into tranquility.

Shen Qingqian exited her room, taking a quick look at the man lounging and leisurely drinking tea on the living room couch. She then lowered her gaze.

Descending the stairs, she stopped in front of him.

His hand pouring the tea faltered for a second then resumed, as if nothing had happened. He brought the cup up to his lips and took a sip.

Shen Qingqian presented the divorce agreement to him. The man languidly took the papers from her and casually glanced at them. His grip involuntarily tightened on the document, but he promptly feigned indifference, raised his eyebrow, and scoffed,

"Heh, divorce? What kind of tricks are you up to now, Shen Qingqian?"

"I'm not. It is indeed my intention."

The man took a keen glance at her, his finger pushing harder into the paper. "Intentions? Yes, indeed. You have had quite a few of them. Otherwise, how could you have ever trapped me in the first place?"

"You've always resented that incident, haven't you? Well, now it's over. We're divorcing. You're free now, isn't this what you wanted? Just sign."

The man abruptly stood up, tossing the divorce agreement on the floor. His icy-warm hand wrapped around Shen Qingqian's slender neck,

"Humph, what...regretting now? Want to leave? Want to ensnare another man? Dream on!"

"Cough... let go."

Watching Shen Qingqian's face turning red from suffocation, he suddenly loosened his grip and pushed her away. Her frail body hits the floor like a discarded rag doll.

He furrowed his brows at the despair-filled woman on the floor, "Listen Shen Qingqian, since you had the guts to trap me, you should be prepared to bear my wrath! Can't handle it now? You've no choice but to endure it!"

He strode towards the stairs pausing midway to look back at Shen Qingqian still kneeling on the floor, his voice rang coldly, "Shen Qingqian, remember this, alive, you're mine; even in death, you're a ghost of my house. Store away all those despicable thoughts of yours!"

Shen Qingqian's frail body shivered. She didn't have any despicable thoughts. Her only ignoble intention was that she loved him.