An Gulai wasn’t dead—just unconscious. After all, he was the man who’d raised An Baili, Lu Li’s ex-wife, for over a decade. Lu Li couldn’t bring himself to go too far. An Baili had told him that though An Gulai disliked her, he still provided a basic allowance and never meddled excessively in her life.

A knock came at the door. Startled, An Baili clung tightly to Lu Li, her eyes wide with confusion.

“It’s fine,” Lu Li soothed. “I called them.”

He wasn’t some hot-headed teen charging blindly. Before arriving, he’d messaged Secretary Long about a conflict with An Gulai—even though, back on the bus, he hadn’t known if the man was An Baili’s father. Better safe than sorry. That was how he dared step into enemy territory.

His plan? Provoke An Gulai into criminal assault—secure evidence, lock the scum away for life. Yet the moment he saw the bruises on An Baili’s skin, *he* was the one who snapped first. Unexpected.

He opened the door. Secretary Long stood there in person, flanked by plainclothes officers.

Spotting blood on Lu Li’s hands, Secretary Long stiffened. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. He tried to attack me. I subdued him.”

Secretary Long turned to the officers. “My nephew. He attends Chuanhai No.1 High School.”

“Oh! You okay, kid?” *Privilege?* Without verifying facts, the cops were already fussing. They entered the An residence, glanced at the unconscious An Gulai with mild surprise, said nothing, called an ambulance, and left. An older, stout officer briefly questioned Lu Li and An Baili—then departed, no station visit required.

Secretary Long had watched silently the whole time. Only after they left did he nod at Lu Li, impressed. “Bold move. Facing An Gulai alone.” He knew their history—Lu Li and Chu Xiaodong’s projects were under his oversight.

Lu Li was genuinely flustered. Still on duty, Secretary Long’s name tag read clearly: *Long Di, Secretary of the Chuanhai Political Bureau*. A Secretary in his thirties? Unusually young. Clearly influential. Lu Li’s tone grew more respectful. “Reckless of me. Acted on impulse.”

“Youthful fire isn’t bad,” Secretary Long said, glancing at An Baili with unreadable eyes. “Xiao Lu, classmate… or girlfriend?”

Before Lu Li could answer, An Baili cut in: “Just a regular classmate.”

A faint ripple stirred in Lu Li’s heart. He stayed silent.

Secretary Long smiled, accepting it. “If you’re free later, message me. I’ll head out.”

“Thank you—truly—for coming personally amid your busy schedule!” Lu Li saw him off properly. Only after the car vanished did he exhale slowly and return to An Baili’s home.

An Gulai’s fate was sealed—unexpectedly. With their testimonies and the tax evasion evidence, prison was inevitable.

But… what about An Baili now?

Lu Li’s gaze tangled with emotion. He’d thought he’d moved on. Yet seeing her suffer still carved his heart like a knife. Love? Hate? No wonder ex-wives were called the most complicated presence in the world.

Today, An Baili was uncharacteristically quiet. Tear tracks stained her delicate face as she gazed at him—soft, tender, just like the woman laughing through tears in her wedding gown at the church years ago.

Strange… Lu Li suddenly couldn’t recall that face clearly. An Baili? Or… Wen Amber?

“Have you forgiven me?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for your explanation.”

He finally understood her fractured personality—raised in An Gulai’s toxic home, sanity would’ve been the anomaly. But understanding wasn’t absolution. Everyone pays for their mistakes.

An Baili wasn’t surprised. She let out a slow breath. “As long as you’ll listen. Li… no matter how absurd or fantastical what I say sounds—please hear me out. Okay?”

Lu Li frowned slightly, sitting up straighter. “Go on.”

“Follow me.”

She led him upstairs to her room. No pink walls, no stuffed animals, no glittering chandelier—just a plain, modest space. From under the bed, she carefully pulled a cheap square box, the kind holding street-market trinkets. Inside lay a heart-shaped pendant: gaudy, plastic, unmistakably a mass-produced relic from the 70s or 80s. Worthless.

“Li… you know about rebirth, right?”

*Obviously.*

“Of course. Aren’t we living proof?”

An Baili drew a deep breath, resolve hardening her voice. “This isn’t my first rebirth. Before this life… I lived another. All because of this.” She lifted the pendant. Four fractured, crystal-like shards glimmered within the flimsy plastic.

To anyone, it was junk. Lu Li almost suspected she was mocking him.

He kept his tone neutral. “Continue.”

“That day I lit the lighter—did you notice? This pendant was on the table.”

*Had he?* His head had been foggy, the room dim… but now, a faint memory surfaced. In his previous life, after marrying him, she’d shown him this pendant—calling it… her mother’s keepsake?

Mei Jinliu died in childbirth. Left *only* this?

A chill realization struck him. “You mean… you weren’t trying to drag me into suicide that day. You just wanted to… trigger rebirth?”

Memories flashed—freezing on the final moment of his last life:

Oxygen-starved and exhausted, his mind dulled. He hadn’t noticed the lighter in her hand.

An Baili’s eyes, tender and sorrowful, held his.

“I just want you to love me again.”