The Stolen Lover

Untitled Episode 3

This direct confrontation stripped Xiu Cai bare—shame, panic, helplessness washed over him. That minute felt like a month.

Xiao Yan's silence made it even harder for Xiucai to bear. She walked over, unplugged the phone, and turned back into the room, leaving Xiucai with nothing but the heavy slam of the door.

They say the quietest door slam signals the truest departure. Such ambiguous platitudes suit those who live by soundbites, not reality. In real life, the louder the scream, the deeper the pain. For a couple like Xiao Yan and the Scholar, both equally stoic, that thunderous slam felt like a final farewell.

Xiu Cai endured the night in his study. Hearing Xiao Yan rise, wash, and prepare in the morning, he could only lurk there like a thief, unable to face her. Only after hearing her door close and footsteps descend did he venture out of the study.

Peering into the bedroom, he saw Xiao Yan's wardrobe was empty. A genuine panic gripped him.

After muttering to himself for a while, the scholar sent a message to Brother Nan: "Got caught snooping through her phone. My wife packed her clothes and left. Help me!"

After sending it, he realized Brother Nan was probably asleep at this hour, so he curled up on the sofa and dozed off for a bit.

Around 1 PM, the scholar's phone buzzed. He couldn't possibly sleep soundly now—any movement jolted him awake. Seeing Nan Ge's reply, "Come over. I'll make tea," the scholar scrambled to his feet and headed out.

To Scholar, Nan Ge was a mysterious man who seemed to live without secrets. Every day, he’d post freely on social media about where he ate, where he drank tea, and who he met. He’d share when he got a new girlfriend and when he broke up. What intrigued Scholar most was that Nan Ge’s girlfriends all seemed to know each other. They didn’t seem to mind—Scholar couldn’t tell if they were pretending not to know or if they genuinely didn’t care. To a man like Xiu Cai, who had known only one woman in his life, Brother Nan must have possessed some kind of magic.

On an autumn afternoon, ginkgo leaves fell layer by layer like peeling off old scars. Before one could even ponder the melancholy beauty, the scene had already faded. The Scholar walked through the fallen leaves, feeling as if he were stepping on his own innocence.

Brother Nan sat as always in the small courtyard, propping up his parasol while brewing gongfu tea. His cigarette habit was truly formidable—it seemed he never let go of one. The Scholar rushed over, waving his hands. Nan Ge nodded with a cigarette in his mouth, gesturing for him to sit. He expertly washed the cups, brewed the tea, and poured for the Scholar. Exhaling smoke and sipping tea, he seemed unable to speak until this ritual was complete. Burning with urgency, the Scholar still couldn't bring himself to get straight to the point. Instead, he asked in a feigned tone, "What kind of tea is this, Nan Ge? It smells so good."

Brother Nan shot him a glance, poured another cup, and replied as he did so, "Who cares what kind of tea it is? As long as it helps wash away the misery of screwing that b***h, right?" He handed Xiu Cai a cigarette, lit it for him, and only then asked, "So what's the deal? Spill it."

The Scholar pursed his lips. "Well... I was looking through her phone. Didn't find any evidence. She caught me while I was searching. Then she left early this morning—took her clothes with her." He sounded like a five-year-old girl complaining about a friend stealing her toy.

Nan Ge blinked a couple of times and asked, "She caught you going through her phone. Then what? Did she say anything? Did you argue?"

"No, not a word. She just stared at me like that, then took the phone and went back to sleep."

"Huh? Interesting. No fuss, no questions. Hmm, your wife's no ordinary person. Hmm, intriguing. Let me ask you this—did she take the house keys when she left?"

Xiu Cai looked utterly bewildered. "Huh? Keys? I didn't notice. No idea if she took them or not."

Brother Nan sighed helplessly. "Man, your brain... I've read your books. It shouldn't be running this slow. Taking the keys means it's a cold war—giving you a chance to make amends. If you do well enough, she'll come back. Leaving them behind means she's telling you she's not coming back. But since you didn't notice, she probably took them. If she'd left them, she'd have put them somewhere you'd see right away."

Zhang, the scholar, gaped in thought for a long moment. "Then she must have taken it. Our house keys are usually tossed on top of the shoe cabinet by the door. When I grabbed mine to head out, it seemed like I was the only one with a set. Yeah, she didn't leave any behind."

"So how much makeup did she take?"

"She's got a whole bunch of bottles and jars over there. I don't know anything about that stuff. Even if she took some, I wouldn't be able to tell. Besides, I wasn't even looking that way."

"Are you sure it's not for a business trip?"

"Definitely not. The wardrobe's empty—just a row of hangers left."

"Did someone come to pick her up?"

"Nope. She just packed everything up, locked the door, and left."

"Then she was doing it for your benefit. Could a woman possibly haul away an entire wardrobe? She definitely took a few pieces—a suitcase with clothes for no more than a week—and stuffed the rest into other boxes. She deliberately left an empty wardrobe out for you to see. Can't your straight-laced brain bend a little?"

The scholar slapped his forehead. "You're right! When we went back to Thailand, she dragged three huge suitcases, yet her closet didn't look any emptier. She must have stashed them away. Yeah, that's it. You're absolutely right."

"The point is, what did you actually see on her phone? How can you be so sure there's nothing going on now? Last night you were swearing up and down there definitely was something!"

"I used that app you gave me to restore her phone. I went through every single chat with a guy, even the deleted ones. There were a few who hit on her, but she ignored them all. The rest were just work-related interactions—nothing out of the ordinary."

"Hmm, that's good news. No issues with other men—that's a relief. You don't need to be suspicious anymore. What about the rest?"

"Nothing else. Oh, I checked the taxi rides and hotel stays too. The dates all match up—business trips, friends' weddings. Everything lines up with what she told me."

"Hmm. Did she mention anything about you two to her girlfriends?"

"Damn it, Nan, I was so focused on the guys I didn't look at any of the women. Why would I check her girlfriends?"

"She hasn't spoken to you in half a year and hasn't found another man. Doesn't she need to vent to her bestie about this? If you look at what she talks about with her friend, wouldn't you figure out how she really feels?"

"Never even thought of that. I was too busy checking if anything was happening."

"Sigh, what can I say about you? It's not that I'm not on your side, but with your single-celled mindset, even if I were your wife, I wouldn't want to talk to you. You've already cheated, yet you didn't even bother to figure things out properly. You never once cared about what she was thinking. All you do is keep saying you love her, love her. How do you love her? What steps? What stages? Love isn't just about shouting slogans, bro."

"But I wash her clothes and cook for her every day. I listen to everything she says. I always back down when we fight. She's the only one for me. All these years, I haven't touched another woman. Isn't that love?"

"f**k, were you born in '83? Did you just pop out of the ground back then? That's your dad's generation's idea of love. Back then, we were f*****g poor—so poor. Anyone who found someone just endured a lifetime together. Marriage only needed a little loyalty to hold it together. What era are we in now? Just washing clothes and cooking can't be called love. That's just the bare minimum of life. If she just wanted someone to cook, why didn't she marry a chef?"

"Then what the hell is love?" Xiu Cai was getting confused.

"We're getting sidetracked. You can't catch up on this lesson overnight. Maybe when I have some free time, I'll break it down for you properly. For now, let's focus on the immediate issue—getting your wife back."

"Right, right, Brother Nan. Help me figure this out. I'm terrified she'll leave and never come back."

Brother Nan lit another cigarette, sipped his tea, and thought to himself: He's right. Some people leave and never come back.

"I reckon it's not a big deal. She probably just wants to teach you a lesson. Life's been dull as wax chewing, and she's not having it. You haven't done anything major to give her grounds for divorce. She's just dreaming of a sweeter life—a few little surprises, more communication. Even though she's past the age of princess fantasies, what woman doesn't crave being cherished and held in the palm of someone's hand?"

Xiu Cai nodded then shook his head. "Brother Nan, you make sense. I get it. Just tell me what to do now. I'll follow your lead."

Brother Nan pondered for a moment. "Alright, tell me in detail how you two met and fell in love. Though the symptoms look similar, you can't just take any medicine—the root cause might be different. Tell me your story, and I'll see. An outsider might get a clearer picture."

The scholar gathered his thoughts and began from the very beginning.

The scholar and Xiao Yan were the same age. At twenty-eight, the scholar finished his first novel, set in the rural village where he'd grown up. To him, every character was ugly, pitiable, and even hateful. But the literary world had long since become an entertainment circus. No one wanted to read such stories, and no publisher was willing to take it on—unless he paid for it himself. The scholar had a stubborn streak. Though he could have scraped together the money, he refused out of sheer obstinacy. He went door to door, determined to find a publisher who still took literature seriously.

As for Xiaoyan, after graduating from drama school, she spent several years acting in films. She endured the sleazy undercurrents on set time and again until one day, something crossed her line. Disillusioned overnight, she severed all ties with the entertainment industry.

When Scholar met Xiao Yan, she had just started working at the publishing house. Scholar had actually come in with a stubborn determination to argue his case, but the moment he laid eyes on her, he was speechless for a long while. That silly, dazed look in his eyes made Xiao Yan burst out laughing the instant she saw it.

The two spent the entire afternoon in the café downstairs from the publishing house. Xiaoyan read the book Xiu Cai had written, while Xiu Cai sat silently across from her, his eyes darting around like a squirrel's. After over an hour of this, Xiaoyan didn't even lift her eyelids. She just stared straight ahead and blurted out, "Alright, stop staring. Your eyes are practically undressing me."

The scholar froze, feeling his face flush fiercely. He wanted to sink through the floor, his lips smacking together for ages without a word escaping.