LOVE FRAGMENTS

THE KISS THAT SHATTERED

Si Zhenxuan held Gu Antong’s wrist firmly. He noticed the scratches on her cheek and jaw, marks left by the stones on the ground, red against her pale skin. Her long hair was disheveled, and her tears still glistened. She was clearly in a state of distress.

“I just want to ask you,” Si Zhenxuan said coldly, his voice low and controlled, “why does my wife quarrel with my brother?” His words made Gu Antong tremble slightly. She looked into his eyes but saw no trace of emotion.

She had once believed that at least part of him possessed tenderness, but now she realized she had been mistaken. She had been deceived by his pretended gentleness, leaving her heart exposed and vulnerable.

“And I ask you,” she replied, her voice quivering but firm, “why does my husband have to be alone with his gossiping girlfriend for so long?”

Si Zhenxuan did not answer her directly. Instead, he glanced toward Si Yueyun, who stood a short distance away, and asked in a low voice, “Are you still in love with Yueyun? You’ve felt something for him, haven’t you?”

Gu Antong’s face turned pale. Why did he keep misunderstanding her? She had loved him, yet she could not speak freely. Why did he always speak so harshly, and why did she always appear in the worst possible circumstances before him?

In frustration, she struck Si Zhenxuan’s chest and admitted, “Yes, that’s true! I still have feelings for your brother. I tried so hard to help you find a sense of existence, to make him regret his actions—and he does! You know he does!”

Anger flickered in Si Zhenxuan’s eyes. He didn’t release her wrist; instead, he placed his right hand on her jaw. The pressure on her wound made her eyes water, and his low, threatening words whispered into her ear: “Let me remind you—who is your husband, truly.”

Gu Antong could hardly believe the sudden closeness of his face, the cold breath against hers. And then—she was forced into a kiss in the street.

Her hands, still held firmly against his chest, lost all strength as their lips met.

Gu Antong’s mind was in turmoil. As soon as he pulled back, he scolded her, “You’re so…”

But the words never came. Si Zhenxuan leaned in again, his lips finding hers, his tongue daringly probing.

No matter how she tried to resist, she could not break free. Her body seemed to act on its own, betraying her will. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as the kiss continued, yet slowly, her clenched fists relaxed. Despite herself, she felt a flicker of longing.

Finally, when Gu Antong nestled into his embrace without resistance, Si Zhenxuan withdrew, a sly smile playing on his lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I’m just treating my wife the way I should. Unless we divorce, you’re stuck with me.”

He added, almost knowingly, “And I know you don’t want a divorce.”

Gu Antong shivered. Was this kiss merely a show of dominance, devoid of any real affection? It reminded her of the early days of their marriage, when he imposed his rules and left her alone to his whims, asserting his control.

She clutched his clothes and leaned against his chest, overwhelmed by emotions she could not name. Tears streamed down her face—the first time she had cried like this. “Why do you do this to me?” she sobbed. “If you truly hate me, then let’s separate.”

Si Zhenxuan observed her quietly. Her vulnerability, her broken composure, stirred something within him. He removed his coat and wrapped it around her before lifting her into his arms, carrying her away from the alley.

Si Yueyun had been watching from nearby. As his elder brother approached, he forced a smile, feeling the weight of the situation.

Si Zhenxuan stopped briefly to exchange a few words. “You’ll handle the rest of the business in Chengdu. We’ll return to Fengcheng tomorrow.”

“Sure, brother. Take your time,” Si Yueyun replied cautiously, aware of his brother’s temper. He feared the incident might escalate, but Si Zhenxuan merely gave instructions and helped Gu Antong into the car.

Gu Antong slumped into the front seat, exhausted and emotionally drained. She had never cried so bitterly. Everything she had excelled at, enjoyed, or taken pride in had been dismissed by Si Zhenxuan as pretentious, while her vulnerabilities were fully exposed.

A paper towel was handed to her. She wiped her tears, then looked at Si Zhenxuan and said, trembling, “Take me back to the hotel. I need to pack.”

The decision weighed heavily on her. Hours earlier, she had fought to keep him and avoid divorce, but reality shifted in an instant. Caring for her family was important, yet facing the unyielding Si Zhenxuan, who undermined her dignity, she realized compromise was impossible.

Returning to the hotel, she began packing her things, laying them out methodically. Suddenly, Si Zhenxuan’s hand held hers, gently guiding her to sit on the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, clutching her chest, alarmed. “We may still be married, but you can’t just behave like this during a divorce!”

Her protests were ignored. Si Zhenxuan crouched beside her, holding a cotton swab and a bottle of iodine. “Your abrasion isn’t serious. This should help.”

Surprised, Gu Antong realized he wasn’t taunting her—he was helping. She winced as the antiseptic stung, and he frowned, gentler than before.

Afterward, he placed the medicine aside and leaned against the door. “Do you really want a divorce?” he asked.

Gu Antong hesitated, then nodded, gripping her jade necklace tightly.

Si Zhenxuan lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke as he reflected silently. Just as she prepared to speak, he interrupted, “It’s too late to regret now.”

She stared at him, incredulous, as he handed her a phone. On the screen was a news article capturing their kiss on Yunhai Lane, bold headlines reading: “Si Group Heir Spotted Kissing Bride on Chengdu Streets During Honeymoon.”

Her hand trembled as she held the phone. The article not only featured the photo but analyzed Si Group and Rongwei’s foreign trade and speculated on the implications of their marriage for the business. It had already influenced Si Group’s stock.

Shocked, Gu Antong asked, her voice quivering, “What’s happening? Who took that picture?”

The encounter on Yunhai Lane had attracted many onlookers, yet no one had recognized them. How had such detailed coverage appeared? It wasn’t Si Yueyun, nor Meng Mei—could it have been Xie Erye?