A blaze swallowed the Shen household overnight, leaving nothing behind but ashes. Shen Xingyu was the sole survivor—only because she had stayed the night at a close friend’s home. With no family, no wealth, and nowhere to turn, she clutched a worn marriage contract and traveled to the capital, hoping her long-ago betrothed would still remember her.

To her relief, the Gu family honored the old engagement. They welcomed her in, despite her now being a penniless orphan with no influence or dowry. And though her husband, Gu Xiu, was as cold as the northern wind—silent, distant, and unreadable—Shen Xingyu told herself it didn’t matter.

Perhaps he was simply not used to expressing himself.

So she learned to read his silence as care, convinced herself his distance was restraint, not rejection. She poured her heart into their life together. She never complained, never faltered. She cooked, cleaned, sewed his garments, even tended to his shoes and socks with her own hands. Day by day, she wove herself into the fabric of their household—not as a guest, but as a devoted wife.

But Gu Xiu’s silence never warmed. His eyes never lingered. His hands never reached for hers.

Still, Shen Xingyu endured, hoping time would soften his heart.

Then came that fateful river voyage.

Their pleasure boat was attacked by river bandits. Chaos erupted. Amid the crashing timbers and rising water, Shen Xingyu and Sheng Ruyue—a beautiful young lady with ties to the Gu family—were both thrown overboard.

And in that moment, Shen Xingyu saw the truth.

Gu Xiu jumped into the water without hesitation… but not for her.

He swam past Shen Xingyu as if she didn’t exist, and lifted Sheng Ruyue into his arms. His only instinct had been to save the woman he truly cared for.

A thousand memories surged through her—averted gazes, forgotten words, empty silences—and every piece clicked into place.

He had never loved her.

He had never even tried.

A raw, searing pain bloomed in her chest.

As the shouts grew faint above the water, Shen Xingyu dove deeper. Away from the wreckage. Away from him. Away from the life she had fought so hard to preserve.

She vanished without a trace.

And Gu Xiu?

He went mad.

He dove back into the river, again and again, searching for the wife he had overlooked—only realizing her worth in the moment she was gone. He would have drowned chasing her shadow, had the servants not dragged his unconscious body from the water.

But Shen Xingyu was already gone. Far from the capital, she built a quiet life of her own. A small cottage. A flower garden. Tea in the morning, peace in the evening. She was no longer someone’s wife—just a woman living for herself.

And she liked it that way.

Three years passed.

When fate brought them together again, Gu Xiu was no longer the man she remembered. The cold, aloof nobleman was gone. In his place stood a broken soul—eyes red with emotion, voice hoarse with longing. He gazed at her as if she were the only thing left in his world.

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