In the cemetery of Beichuan City, a funeral was underway. Fu Qing, dressed in black, stood quietly among the crowd, receiving condolences one by one from her father's former friends.

"Miss Fu, my deepest condolences," someone whispered softly.

Fu Qing wiped away her tears and thanked the guests.

A month ago, the Fu Group had completely collapsed, and her father had suddenly passed away from a heart attack, leaving the world forever.

The once glorious Fu family had fallen into ruin.

The attendees sighed in sorrow, yet none dared to underestimate Fu Qing.

For she was not only the heiress of the Fu family but also the wife of Qin Mo, the formidable CEO of the Qin Group, whose very presence could send shivers down the spines of those in the business world.

The funeral lasted until noon, yet Qin Mo was nowhere to be seen. Just as it was about to conclude, a discreet Bentley slowly entered the cemetery.

The driver opened the rear door, and Qin Mo stepped out. A pair of polished leather shoes came into view, followed by a sharply tailored suit, leading up to a strikingly handsome face with sharp features, his expression cold.

This was the first time Fu Qing had seen Qin Mo in two years of marriage—how ironic that it was at her father's funeral!

While all the other guests had brought flowers and made contributions, Qin Mo arrived empty-handed!

"Qin Mo," and to everyone's surprise, the other car door opened, and a stunning woman in a red dress and short skirt emerged, naturally linking her arm with Qin Mo's. "Should I go in?"

Looking at her, Qin Mo's expression softened slightly as he gently removed her hand from his arm. "Wait here for me."

"Okay," the woman smiled sweetly, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

The scene was like a slap in the face to Fu Qing, stinging and humiliating. It was her father’s funeral, and yet this woman, dressed in a bold red dress, had the audacity to kiss her husband in front of all the guests!

Fu Qing clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, her composure hanging by a thread. Meanwhile, Qin Mo strode up the steps, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her as he approached. Standing at an intimidating 6’2”, he loomed over her, his voice dripping with mockery. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue after two years apart?”

“What do you want?” Fu Qing shot back, her voice steady despite the unease creeping up her spine. She could sense the hostility radiating from him.

“What do I want?” Qin Mo’s eyes turned icy, colder than the winter storm raging outside. “I’m here to pay my respects to my dear father-in-law, of course.”

His gaze swept over her, scrutinizing every detail. There was no denying it—Fu Qing had grown even more stunning in the past two years. Her long, flowing hair cascaded down her back, and under different circumstances, they might have shared a happy marriage. But no, that was never in the cards. He had married her for one reason only: to exact revenge on that scoundrel, Fu Guowei.

“Everyone, out.” Qin Mo’s command was soft but firm, and without hesitation, the mourners filed out of the hall. No one dared to defy him or cross the Qin conglomerate.

As the last person left, Fu Qing felt a sharp, almost bone-wrenching pain in her wrist as Qin Mo yanked her violently into the room. The heavy doors slammed shut behind them.

…

An hour later, Qin Mo adjusted his suit jacket and walked out of the funeral hall, his expression unreadable.

The woman who had been waiting outside the door immediately approached him, gently grasping his hand. "Qin Mo, how did it go? Did you manage to resolve everything?" she asked softly.

"Mm," Qin Mo responded tersely, his voice calm but distant. He turned his hand to hold hers and began descending the steps, his tone final as he added, "It's all over."

Wen Ruan'er sensed the restraint in his words but didn’t dare press further. She glanced back over her shoulder, a lingering unease settling in her chest.

She could only hope—truly hope—that it really was over.