Lu Chen rubbed his throbbing temples and checked his phone—8:17 p.m.
He'd finished the project three days ahead of schedule, and the client had even responded with "extremely satisfied." It should've been a moment to celebrate. He'd even made a detour to buy his wife Lin Xue's favorite chestnut cake, imagining her delighted smile.
But standing at his front door now, Lu Chen froze.
The door was ajar.
Faint voices drifted out, along with the clatter of high heels kicked carelessly across the floor. Hadn't Lin Xue said she'd be working overtime until ten?
"Mr. Wang, don't be in such a hurry~"
That coquettish voice seeped through the crack and into his ears. Lu Chen's hand froze on the doorknob; the box of chestnut cake suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
It was Lin Xue's voice—but that tone, syrupy and deliberately coquettish, was one he'd never heard in their three years of marriage.
A man's chuckle followed, oily and triumphant. "Xiao Xue, I've taken care of your husband. The layoff list goes out tomorrow—severance pay'll let him laze around for half a year. And then…"
"Then I'll finally be free, right?" Lin Xue giggled. "That loser—all he does is work overtime, work overtime. He even forgot our anniversary. You're so thoughtful and capable, Mr. Wang…"
Lu Chen felt blood rush to his head, then drain away, leaving his limbs ice-cold.
He pushed the door open.
The living room lights stabbed his eyes. On the sofa, Lin Xue wore the silk nightgown he'd bought her just last month—the one he'd said complemented her complexion perfectly. But now, the straps had slipped halfway down her shoulders, and her hand rested on a bald man's neck.
Lu Chen recognized him.
Wang Shihao—his boss, the vice general manager of Star Ocean Technology. Just last week, at the company-wide meeting, he'd clapped Lu Chen on the shoulder and called him "the backbone of the company's future."
Now this "future backbone's" boss had his hand on Lu Chen's wife's waist.
Time seemed to stand still for three seconds.
"Lu… Lu Chen?" Lin Xue jolted off the sofa as if shocked, yanking her nightgown straps back into place. "I thought you said you'd be pulling an all-nighter to finish the project!"
Wang Shihao, however, remained unflappable. He even took his time straightening his shirt collar, which was smudged with lipstick.
"Xiao Lu," he said, crossing his legs, his tone like that of a manager scolding a late employee. "Didn't your parents ever teach you to knock before entering?"
Lu Chen's gaze fell on the half-empty bottle of red wine on the coffee table, two stemmed glasses, and a crumpled tie—the one Lin Xue had given him for his birthday last year. He remembered her laughing then, saying, "Wear this, honey, and you'll look like a proper elite."
"Explain." His voice was eerily calm.
Lin Xue bit her lip. The eyes that had once captivated him were now filled with panic, but it quickly shifted to defiance. "Lu Chen, it's not what you think…"
"What is it, then?" Lu Chen set the chestnut cake on the shoe cabinet; the ribbon on the box came loose. "Mr. Wang dropped by late at night for a friendly chat over wine? The kind that requires taking off coats and untying ties?"
Wang Shihao scoffed and stood up. He was half a head shorter than Lu Chen, yet carried himself like he was looking down at an insect.
"Fine, since you caught us, I'll stop beating around the bush." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "The company's downsizing by a third in the second half of the year. You're unlucky—you're on the list."
Lu Chen stared at him. "So that's your excuse for sleeping with my wife?"
"Don't put it so crudely." Wang Shihao blew a smoke ring. "Xiao Xue's been with you for three years—what has she gotten out of it? A tiny 60-square-meter apartment, a mortgage that eats up most of your paycheck every month. Me? I can give her…"
"He can buy me designer bags!" Lin Xue cut in sharply. "He can take me on vacation to the Maldives! I don't have to pinch pennies for groceries every day! Lu Chen, open your eyes—do any of our classmates live like we do? Scrounging for every cent?"
She grew more worked up, but no tears fell—only bitterness etched on her face. "When my mom was in the hospital last month, you couldn't even scrape together 30,000 yuan for the surgery fee. In the end, it was Mr. Wang who covered it. What did you do? You just said 'wait a little longer, I'll get the project bonus next month'! How many 'next months' have I waited for?"
Lu Chen's throat tightened. Lin Xue had only told him she'd "borrowed some money from a friend" for her mother's surgery. He hadn't pressed for details—he'd been too busy busting his ass to finish this very project, the one he'd just wrapped up early, for the bonus that was supposed to turn their lives around.
"I finished the project ahead of schedule." His voice was as dry as sandpaper. "The bonus is 80,000 yuan—it'll be in the bank next week. I was going to… surprise you."
For a split second, Lin Xue's expression softened. But it was quickly replaced by sneering. "80,000 yuan? The necklace Mr. Wang bought me last month cost more than that."
Wang Shihao laughed triumphantly, pulled a document out of his briefcase, and tossed it on the coffee table.
"Here's the termination agreement—sign it. N+1 severance pay, 64,000 yuan. Generous, isn't it?" He paused, adding with a lewd undertone, "Consider it… a breakup fee."
"I'll send you the divorce papers tomorrow." Lin Xue turned away, refusing to meet his eyes. "I want half the savings, and the house… you can't afford the mortgage anyway, so sell it and split the money."
Lu Chen's gaze drifted from Lin Xue's face to Wang Shihao's, then to the agreement. His name was already printed on it in bold letters—all it needed was his signature.
He suddenly remembered their wedding day. Lin Xue had waited for him outside the civil affairs bureau in a white dress, the sun shining on her face, saying, "Lu Chen, from now on, our home will be warm. So warm."
Now the house was warm—too warm, the air conditioner cranked up high, making him feel breathless.
"The cake's by the door." It was the last thing Lu Chen said before turning to pack his things.
He moved slowly, as if performing a ritual. A few books from his study, the shirts he'd worn for three or four years and couldn't bear to throw away, a cheap razor from the bathroom counter. Everything he'd accumulated in this home over three years fit into a single suitcase.
Lin Xue kept her back to him, her shoulders trembling slightly. Wang Shihao sat on the sofa smoking, his phone blaring the grating laughter of short videos—like a victory march.
Dragging his suitcase to the door, Lu Chen paused.
"Oh, and one more thing." He turned back to Wang Shihao. "The fake accounts you made me cook up last quarter? I've got a backup stored somewhere very safe. Watch your back."
Wang Shihao's face turned ashen instantly.
Lu Chen said nothing else, closing the door softly behind him.
The corridor's motion-sensor light flickered on, then died out just as quickly. Standing in the dark, he heard muffled arguments from inside, followed by the sound of something shattering—probably the chestnut cake.
The elevator slowly ascended from the first floor, the numbers ticking by like a slow torture.
His phone vibrated.
The name on the screen made him freeze—Lin Xiaoyu, Lin Xue's younger sister, the little girl who'd always trotted after him, calling him "brother-in-law, brother-in-law."
He answered, and her tearful voice poured out.
"Brother-in-law! I saw what sister posted! How could she do this to you? Where are you? I'm coming— I'll be right there…"
The elevator dinged open.
The empty car loomed before him like an open coffin. As the doors slid shut, the mirrored walls reflected a pale, unfamiliar face staring back at him.
The phone was still pressed to his ear, Xiaoyu's anxious voice flooding the silence. "Brother-in-law? Say something! Don't do anything stupid, I'm on my way…"
Her voice cut off abruptly.
The elevator jolted to a halt between floors. The lights flickered twice, then went out completely.
In the pitch-black darkness, only the phone screen glowed faintly, displaying:
"Battery low: 1% remaining. Will shut down in 30 seconds."
Lu Chen watched the shrinking battery icon, and suddenly, he wanted to laugh.
It really was true—when you're down on your luck, even the elevator turns against you.
In the darkness, he whispered:
"Xiaoyu, I think I…"
Before he could finish, the screen went black.
The elevator didn't move an inch. Silence rushed in like a tide, swallowing every sound.
Then, in that suffocating darkness—
Ding.
Not the elevator's chime.
It was a cold, mechanical voice, ringing directly inside his head:
[Host match detected…]
[Gourmet Heritage System activating…]
[Current progress: 1%… 2%…]
Lu Chen froze where he stood.
What… was that?