Broken Dreams

Lou Mengling returned to the Lu family estate on the afternoon of the following day.

Dusty and exhausted, she didn’t even have time to take a sip of the hot tea offered by the butler before she anxiously searched for her daughter.

When she saw Lu Qianqian, her heart ached so much that tears nearly spilled over instantly.

The precious daughter she had coddled since childhood, the one whose nails she had meticulously trimmed, was now dressed in a faded old tracksuit, performing basic physical training on the garden lawn under the watchful eye of a stern, short-haired woman.

Sweat soaked Lu Qianqian’s bangs, making her delicate face appear pale. Her legs trembled slightly, but the look in her eyes was no longer the spoiled willfulness of the past—instead, there was a stubborn determination, teeth gritted in perseverance.

"Qianqian!" Lou Mengling hurried over, her voice trembling.

At the sight of her mother, Lu Qianqian’s forced composure crumbled. She threw herself into Lou Mengling’s arms, her voice choked with tears.

"Mom, why are you back?"

"If I didn’t come back, I might never see my precious daughter again!" Lou Mengling held her tightly, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of sweat and grass on her. Unable to hold back her tears, she caressed her daughter’s face tenderly.

"Look at you—you’ve lost so much weight! What is all this? You were supposed to be in university, not suffering like this!"

As she spoke, she shot a displeased glance at Ji Wushuang, who stood nearby.

Ji Wushuang remained still, her expression unchanged, as if the emotional reunion between mother and daughter had nothing to do with her.

"Mom, it’s not Elder Brother or Ms. Ji’s fault. I chose this myself."

Leaning into her mother’s warm embrace, Lu Qianqian drew comfort from the long-missed affection, but her tone remained firm.

"I don’t want to be a clueless doll anymore."

Lou Mengling froze. Staring at the unfamiliar resolve—an adult’s resolve—on her daughter’s face, her heart swirled with conflicting emotions.

She was proud of her growth, yet her heart ached at the price she had to pay for it.

Lu Chenyuan approached at just the right moment, his voice gentle. "Mom, you’re back. Qianqian is exhausted—let her rest for now."

He gave Ji Wushuang a nod, and understanding his cue, she turned and left, giving the family space.

...

That night, after soothing her emotionally overwhelmed daughter to sleep, Lou Mengling sat wearily on the living room sofa.

Lu Chenyuan personally brought her a cup of warm milk and took a seat across from her.

"Mom, are you still worried about Qianqian?"

Lou Mengling sighed, rubbing her throbbing temples.

"How can I not worry? That child has never even been scolded harshly in her life. I’m terrified she might—"

"She’s grown up," Lu Chenyuan interrupted, his gaze steady.

"She needs her own life, not to live forever under our protection. Neither you nor I can shield her forever."

Lou Mengling fell silent. She knew her son was right.

"Mom," Lu Chenyuan’s voice softened but grew heavier,

"Some things are like Qianqian’s situation. If you keep covering them up, shielding them, it might seem like protection—but in truth, it only lets the wound fester unseen until it’s beyond saving."

Lou Mengling’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up, unease creeping into her as she met her son’s penetrating eyes.

She had a vague sense that what Lu Chenyuan was about to say was the real purpose of this conversation.

Without another word, Lu Chenyuan reached into his briefcase and pulled out a plain manila folder, placing it gently on the coffee table before her.

No explanations, no accusations, no persuasion.

"These are some documents," Lu Chenyuan said, his tone so calm it was almost cold.

"I just believe you have the right to know the truth. After reading them, whatever you decide to do—or not do—I’ll support you. I’ll always be your son, your strongest support."

Lou Mengling’s fingers trembled slightly.

She stared at the innocuous-looking folder as if it weighed a thousand pounds. A primal fear, born of feminine intuition, made her reluctant to touch it.

She knew what was inside.

Or rather, she had always carried a vague shadow in her heart—one she had spent over twenty years rationalizing, forcing herself not to think about, not to acknowledge, pretending it didn’t exist.

"Chenyuan..." Her voice was hoarse, tinged with pleading.

"Mom." Lu Chenyuan simply looked at her, his eyes filled with unshakable resolve and sorrow.

After a long silence, Lou Mengling seemed to steel herself. With trembling hands, she picked up the folder.

Her fingers were ice-cold as she tore open the seal, as if using every ounce of strength she had left.

Photos slid out, scattering across the polished coffee table.

In them was the man she knew better than anyone—her husband, Lu Mingye.

He stood beside a strikingly beautiful woman—Liu Mei, a face Lou Mengling recognized.

In the photos, Lu Mingye wore an ease and tenderness she had never seen before.

One photo showed them dining at a restaurant like an ordinary couple, with Lu Mingye considerately serving Liu Mei dishes.

Another captured Liu Mei standing beside a boy around ten years old, Lu Mingye’s hand resting affectionately on the child’s head.

The three of them stood together, smiling brightly—a picture-perfect family.

Alongside the photos was a detailed investigative report.

Liu Mei’s background, the source of funds for her luxury apartment, the boy’s birth certificate, the elite private school he attended... Every piece of evidence pointed to one undeniable truth: Lu Mingye had not only built another family outside their marriage, but he also had a son who was already growing up.

Lou Mengling examined each document, her complexion shifting from flushed to deathly pale, then to ashen.

It felt as if all the blood in her body had frozen in an instant.

Twenty years of marriage. Twenty years of mutual respect. She had always told herself that her husband was simply bad at expressing emotions.

She had consoled herself that aristocratic marriages were like this—as long as they maintained appearances, as long as their children grew up well, it was enough.

But now she understood.

It wasn’t that he lacked warmth—it was that his warmth had never been meant for her.

It wasn’t that love didn’t exist between them—it was that his love had been given to another woman, even another family.

Her decades of endurance, compromise, and self-delusion now lay exposed as a pathetic joke before this irrefutable evidence.

She was the fool, desperately propping up a stage that had long since rotted hollow, while the audience—including the man who had shared her bed—laughed at her naivety.

"Hah..." A short, broken laugh escaped Lou Mengling’s throat.

She laughed, but as she did, tears streamed down her cheeks like beads from a snapped string.

Those were not tears of sorrow, but blood-streaked tears mingled with boundless humiliation, fury, and despair.

She thought she would collapse, that she would scream hysterically and demand answers.

But when that unbearable agony finally subsided, what rose in her heart was an icy clarity—like embers stirring back to life.

She was Lou Mengling, the proudest daughter of the Lou family in Qingzhou.

Once, she had been the celebrated socialite of Jingzhou, a woman who carried herself with dignity and unshakable principles.

When had she allowed herself to become so debased for the sake of this farcical marriage, grinding even her pride into dust?

Slowly, one by one, she gathered the photographs back into the file folder, her movements deliberate and solemn—as if bidding farewell to a life now utterly dead.

When she lifted her head again, the tear tracks still glistened on her face, but her eyes had transformed completely.

The gentleness and timidity that had clung to her for so long had been incinerated by the cruel truth, replaced now by the Lou family’s innate pride—unyielding and bone-deep.

"Chenyuan," she said to her son, her voice terrifyingly calm, "Thank you."

Thank you for not letting me remain a fool.

Thank you for giving me the courage to shatter it all.

Lu Chenyuan watched his mother’s metamorphosis, his heart aching even as relief washed over him. The hardest step had been taken.

Lou Mengling did not speak another word. She rose to her feet, straightening the spine that years of repression had bent ever so slightly, and retrieved her phone from her handbag.

She scrolled to a number and dialed without hesitation.

When the call connected, she spoke—her tone colder, clearer than ever before, each syllable measured and sharp:

"Lawyer Wang? This is Lou Mengling. Prepare the documents... I want a divorce from Lu Mingye."