Volume One, Chapter Thirteen: Love

Lin Guodong had attended university and carried himself with a refined demeanor; his features were delicate and gentle. Luo Wenbin’s family often remarked that Lin Guodong didn’t resemble Lin Zhaodi’s brother but rather his own.

Compared to the burly and imposing Lin Zhaodi, the two elders clearly placed more trust in Lin Guodong.

Lin Guodong led the two away, and the private room fell silent.

The younger sister stood and firmly shut the door.

Lin Zhaodi wasted no words and cut straight to the point: “Wei Yinyin, no matter how much I give your parents, you won’t get a single cent. Now, I’ve sent your parents away. I’m offering you ten thousand yuan—take it immediately and leave with your child. You can keep the money and break free from your parents, but on one condition: you never come back. Do you accept?”

Wei Yinyin’s face turned pale. “Only ten thousand? Leave? Go where?”

Lin Zhaodi shot back, “You want to bargain with me? What do you have to bargain with—the identity of that unknown child or your unworthy parents? I’m not threatening you; I’m saving you. You should be grateful. If you refuse, your parents will sell you again.”

Wei Yinyin trembled all over. “You have no right to speak about my parents like that.”

Leaning back in her chair, Lin Zhaodi’s robust figure resembled an insurmountable mountain:

“Fine, I’ll put it this way: I’ll give your parents two hundred thousand to marry you off to the most remote mountain valley, never to come out again. What do you think your parents would choose?”

Wei Yinyin broke down in tears. “Sister, after all, Xiaobao is Wenbin’s son. How can you be so heartless?”

Lin Zhaodi replied coldly, “Because I’m a mother too.”

---

Wei Yinyin’s face was ashen, unable to speak.

After a long silence, she bit her lip and shook her head. “My family can’t do without me. My brother hasn’t married yet.”

Just as Luo Xuan was about to speak, the younger sister snapped, “Are you crazy? How can you be so foolish! Your parents treat you like livestock for breeding; can’t you see that?”

Wei Yinyin said, “The Wei family line cannot be broken.”

The younger sister scoffed, pointing at Wei Yinyin’s finely made dress with biting sarcasm: “All the money my father spent on you is worn on your body. Have you ever thought to put some clothes on your brain?”

Wei Yinyin suddenly raised her head. “It’s not about the money! I truly loved Wenbin!”

Her voice trembling with emotion, she stood and pointed at each woman in the room one by one. “Wenbin is gone, and among you, which woman truly mourns him? You are his family, his kin! You should be the closest to him, the ones who love him most!” Her hair fell loose as she spoke sharply, “Which one of you loves him? Who has ever cared for him? Only I! Wenbin only had me! Now that he’s dead, only I remember him, only I think of him!”

She pointed at Lin Zhaodi, her tone a mixture of accusation and resentment: “You never loved him.”

Lin Zhaodi sneered.

“Love or not, it’s just about what happens in bed,” Lin Zhaodi said contemptuously. “You don’t go out to earn money and sit around all day bored, so you obsess over that.”

Lin Zhaodi’s words were crude and blunt, silencing both Luo Xuan and Luo Qi instantly. Even Wei Yinyin took two steps back, shaken.

An eerie silence fell over the room.

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“You don’t understand his goodness at all!” Wei Yinyin said, her voice faltering.

Lin Zhaodi spat lightly and stared at the young woman. “What do you love about him?”

Wei Yinyin propped herself on the table, tears washing over her pale face, dropping one by one onto the surface.

“I…” Her eyes began to shine with a strange, joyful light. “I love him because no one ever saw me growing up, but he was there for me. He solved my problems, patiently and gently... He was tall, handsome, refined—unlike others with beer bellies—he smelled good, and his temperament was more like a literature teacher than a businessman...”

She went on for some time.

Lin Zhaodi glanced at the time and interrupted impatiently: “No matter how good a man is, if he truly considers you his wife, he won’t wash his feet after making love.”

Wei Yinyin’s voice cut off abruptly, as if caught in her throat.

Lin Zhaodi waved her hand and leaned back in her chair brazenly. “I was married to Luo Wenbin for decades. Since he was twenty-one, I personally washed, dried, and matched every piece of clothing he wore. The clothes he loved to wear were actually the ones I liked. His scent? That’s soap I bought. When he gained weight, had high blood pressure, or high cholesterol, it was me forcing him to adjust his health. Your troubles weren’t solved by Luo Wenbin; they were solved by money—money that we earned together. Luo Wenbin was selfish and arrogant. He treated you well because you were young and fertile, which benefited him.”

Wei Yinyin sneered, “So Wenbin’s success was all thanks to you, right?”

Lin Zhaodi sat unmoved in her chair. “Of course not. What I mean is, the one you love isn’t him—it’s me.”