At exactly six in the evening, like clockwork, Arthur Ainsley left the café with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, enduring yet another contemptuous look from the barista.

For the past two months, he'd treated this place like his office—arriving at nine, leaving at six, rain or shine, no days off.

Two months ago, he got laid off. Another casualty in the wave of mass layoffs sweeping through big tech companies.

One day he was sipping coffee comfortably in a high-rise; the next, he was drowning in anxiety and confusion, as if he'd been tossed from the clouds straight into hell.

He used to work in livestream operations—not exactly a thriving field to begin with. The whole industry was toxic from the inside out. Cutthroat competition, unstable market, layoffs everywhere. Landing a decent job felt harder than finding a needle in a haystack.

Despite sending out over a dozen resumes and attending several interviews, he didn’t land a single satisfying offer.

“Sir, wanna buy a flower?”

The words snapped him out of his thoughts as he stared at his phone, scrolling through job apps outside the café. A teenage girl had appeared in front of him, roses in hand, interrupting his silent panic.

Her face caught him off-guard for a second, and then he noticed the bundles of roses she was holding.

Right—it’s Qixi Festival today.

So, on a whim, he bought a big bouquet, planning to surprise Lily Clark.

Tensions had been high between them lately. With pressure building on both sides, even the tiniest thing could spark an argument. That morning alone, they’d bickered again. Arthur had stormed out after snapping that he had to work late. Neither of them had said a word to the other since.

He still hadn't told Lily about losing his job.

They were supposed to get married during the upcoming holiday—everything from the house renovation to the wedding plan was done. And just when things seemed settled, life came swinging with a hammer.

Holding the roses tight, he rushed home.

The door wasn’t even closed properly. He sighed. Lily always had this careless streak.

Pushing the door open with a smile, he was greeted not by joy—but by a pair of unfamiliar men's LV shoes sitting neatly on the floor.

His brain froze.

Blank.

From the bedroom came moans—intimate, indulgent, and the unmistakable thud of a bed hitting the wall rhythmically. Sounded like thunder in the middle of a clear sky, sharp enough to split him in two.

Everything in him went cold. Body numb, thoughts scattered.

He stood there, fists clenched, veins popping, watching two people completely lost in each other, too immersed to even notice the man now blocking the doorway like a ticking bomb.

He knew that guy.

She talked about him all the time—a client from work. The last name was Zhang, that much he remembered.

His body shook uncontrollably, as if some beast inside him had broken loose. He kicked the door open without a second thought.

The scene on the bed shattered in an instant. Shock, terror, chaos.

Lily screamed and frantically pulled the covers to hide herself.I grabbed the broom behind the door and stormed over to the bed in three quick steps, swinging it hard at the guy. “Damn it! You’ve got the guts to sneak into my house to cheat? Today I swear I’ll end you!”

Crack. The plastic broom snapped in half the moment it hit him. That bastard—Andrew Dawson—let out a howl and dropped to the floor, clutching his head.

Still fuming, I snatched the photo frame off the table and smashed it against his skull without hesitation. Glass shattered everywhere.

Blood trickled down through his shaking fingers as he cried out in pain.

I looked down at what remained of the photo—taken last year with Lily Clark when we were in Sanya. She was on my back, flashing a peace sign at the camera. After nine long years together, we were finally engaged. In that photo, we looked so right, like we were meant to be.

But now, that blue sky in the picture was stained red, like it had been soaked in this guy’s blood.

I froze. My chest tightened, and tears started welling up.

I shook them off, trying to erase any softness from my mind. I grabbed the broken broom handle, ready to go in again.

That’s when Lily lunged from behind, wrapping her arms around me, sobbing and screaming for me to stop. She was trying to signal that bastard to run.

And he did. Taking advantage of the moment, he snatched up his clothes and bolted out—bare-assed.

I struggled hard and finally broke free, rushing to the bedroom door—only to hear Lily choke out a loud sob behind me, then hit the floor with a thud.

“Arthur, I’m begging you. Please stop. Let him go!”

I froze in place, every muscle turning cold and stiff like someone cast a freezing spell on me.

I turned slowly.

She was kneeling there, completely naked, crying hysterically.

My mind was a mess.

I stared at her, overwhelmed by the chaos in my head. Everything felt unreal.

“Why?”

We had already registered our marriage. I was just days away from slipping that ring on her finger, promising her the rest of my life. Why would she throw away everything like this?

Lily couldn’t even speak properly through her sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur. This is all on me. Let’s break up… I don’t deserve you. He gave me things you can’t.”

I took a deep breath. “You mean money? Didn't we just buy a place back home?”

“But I want to stay in Beijing!”

She lifted her tear-streaked face, shouting back at me, “What’s so great about that run-down town anyway? Why do you think I came here? I want to build a life in this city! I won’t go back looking like a loser. I can’t let my future kid grow up with the same narrow horizons I did!”

Watching her cry like that tore me apart.

Turns out, money really does show a relationship’s true colors. It revealed who she really was. Stripped our love of all its romance.

We’d lasted all the way from sophomore year until now—way past the point when most college sweethearts had already gone their separate ways.

Up until today, I honestly thought we had something unbreakable.

Now I know—it just wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.Arthur took a deep breath, staring at Lily’s face—it felt both painfully familiar and unbelievably foreign. His hands trembled as he pulled out a cigarette, struggling to light it. The first couple of drags filled his lungs with nicotine and something toxic enough to make him cough hard.

For a while, he said nothing. When the choking eased, he glanced around the room again. His nose stung.

Every corner of this place was filled with memories from their nine years together—his entire youth played out right here.

Except for her.

“Stop making excuses for cheating, Lily. Tomorrow, ten a.m.—I’ll be waiting at the Civil Affairs Bureau.”

With that, he gave her one final look, cold and full of disappointment, then turned and left, cigarette still burning.

Later that night, he came back. She wasn’t home. He tossed everything he could think of—ID, essentials—into a bag and left that so-called home for good.

He didn’t even take a change of clothes. Anything that brought back memories—he didn’t want them.

Wandering aimlessly along the streets like some walking corpse, Arthur drifted through the sleeping city.

The night only got heavier. Lights flickered on in the apartments he passed, but nothing inside him felt like home anymore.

At some point, he ended up by the bar street. Neon signs blinked and buzzed, and he just stood there, buried in his own mess of emotions.

He hadn’t set foot in a place like this for ages. Lily used to keep a tight leash on him—bars were off-limits. Now that he was free, truly and completely alone, no one could stop him.

Most people who came here were probably just trying to drown something too.

In the buzz of strangers, he somehow didn’t feel as alone.

Once, someone had told him that life’s full of ups and downs. But right now, he’d happily trade the lives of two cheating bastards just for his own peace, even if it meant those “ups and downs” happened entirely between the bedsheets.

He ordered a Long Island Iced Tea and a neat whiskey.

The name “Long Island Iced Tea” might sound mellow, but it’s actually a bomb of five different hard liquors. Mix in some orange and pomegranate juice, and it hits as sweetly dangerous as a sunset—beautiful, but not to be trusted.

He drank in silence, not caring about anything else. Didn’t take long before he started drawing attention.

A few gorgeous women, all dolled up and curvy, leaned in with those practiced moves—light brushes against his arm, fake-sweet voices asking for a drink.

They were all stunning, but he still turned them down.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel that kind of temptation—it’s just, all he wanted right then was peace. If they pushed any harder, he was afraid he might lose it and cause a scene.

His head was pounding from all the perfume and the stale air inside. He needed a smoke, some air, anything.

He staggered toward the door just as a tall woman was about to enter.

She looked like she was in her mid to late twenties. Elegant figure, and that white dress fluttered in the breeze like something out of a film.

That skirt—it really caught the wind just right.

She was beautiful in a quiet, understated way. No dramatic makeup, just enough to highlight her features, and somehow that made her even more striking.

After getting used to all the caked-on faces in the room, her natural look actually made him pause.

The bar’s entrance was narrow—only wide enough for one person at a time. Not wanting to bump into her, he joked, “Hey, gorgeous, mind stepping aside? I’m heading out to catch some fresh wind and maybe a few regrets.”