Chapter 4

Shen Li was at a loss for words.

After a moment to collect himself and fully process Xiao Chen’s words, he confirmed once more, “He… really wrote that?”

“Yes.”

Shen Li’s long, thick lashes trembled again. His thin eyelids drooped, hiding the irritation and faint surprise in his eyes.

Qian Xingzhi was playing for keeps?

He’d even written that?

Of course, Shen Li had received the same survey questionnaire. But in answering every question, he’d stuck to safe, neutral, and vague responses—careful enough that no one could find fault with them.

For example, on the short-answer question about 【Divorce Reasons and Percentages】, Shen Li’s own reply had been:

【Rarely seeing each other—50%, Personality clash—20%, Lifestyle differences—30%】

And yet Qian Xingzhi, that guy, had the nerve to rank “sexual life disharmony” at 50%???

Okay, fine. It was true.

After they got married, things in the bedroom hadn’t been as harmonious as before. But wasn’t the main reason for that simply because they rarely spent time together? Every time they did meet up later on, Qian Xingzhi acted like a man starved for years, often leaving Shen Li in no shape to go to work.

Of course Shen Li got angry.

The angriest time had been right there in Cloud City.

Shen Li had carved out time from his packed schedule to fly over and visit Qian Xingzhi on set. But Qian Xingzhi, heavens knew what had gotten into him, dragged Shen Li straight to a hotel.

At first, Shen Li thought the man had lost his mind, playing some stupid romantic game.

But when their eyes met and Shen Li saw the dark, beautiful turmoil in Qian Xingzhi’s gaze, he realized Qian Xingzhi was genuinely furious.

Shen Li kissed his cheek and stroked his hair to soothe him, asking worriedly what was wrong. Instead, Qian Xingzhi pinned him down. In a low, commanding tone like some superior issuing orders, he demanded Shen Li’s full compliance.

It made Shen Li bristle too, triggering his instinctive resistance.

Qian Xingzhi was bigger than him, stronger even than a frontline cop like Shen Li.

That day, amid the footsteps echoing up and down the hotel corridor, Shen Li slapped him across the face. Keeping his voice low, he snapped in genuine anger, “Qian Xingzhi, if you keep throwing tantrums like this, I won’t come see you anymore.”

Qian Xingzhi gripped his waist, hatred flaring fiercer in his eyes. “Fine. You visit once every six months, saving all your time to fool around with that pretty boy from your brigade, huh?”

Shen Li blinked, utterly baffled. “What pretty boy?”

“Zhao Rong.”

Shen Li’s frown deepened. “He’s a fresh college grad. The boss assigned me to mentor him. It’s just a standard mentor-protégé thing.”

Qian Xingzhi’s deep brows and sharp jawline radiated cold fury. Veins bulged along his tensed neck, and the shadows in his eyes grew darker. “I swapped out all my male assistants for women for your sake. Why don’t you request a female protégé?”

Pain wracked Shen Li’s trembling body, fueling his rising outrage. “Male, female—what does it matter? I’m not strictly gay anyway. And don’t drag entertainment industry bullshit into this. ‘Avoiding suspicion’? That’s work. The boss decides who I mentor, and I follow orders. I don’t know where you dug up that name, but I’m warning you: stop. Snooping into our routine police work crosses the line into criminal territory, no matter how you do it.”

“Criminal?”

Qian Xingzhi sneered. “As your spouse, I look up a colleague’s name and notice you’re close? That’s a crime now?”

Shen Li: …

“And what about Wang Liang? Or your brigade captain Hu Quan, who always takes your side? And that idiot Yu Zhiwen from your team who drags you out for barbecue after shifts? I know everyone in your brigade inside out. Go on, arrest me, Officer Shen.”

Shen Li: “…Xingzhi, you don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t?”

Qian Xingzhi’s eyes burned with anger, his handsome features twisted in disappointment. “We’ve been married for years. I make a point of learning when the brigade cook changes, rushing to tell him our Shen Li doesn’t eat spicy food. And you? Do you even have my assistant’s number saved? Do you know her name?”

Shen Li frowned instinctively. “Of course. It’s Little Zhao. I have her number too.”

“Heh, Little Zhao?”

Qian Xingzhi’s fingers dug bruises into his waist. “Little Zhao quit six months ago, and you’re still calling her Little Zhao?”

Shen Li: …

Qian Xingzhi: “If you really dislike me that much, why did you marry me?”

“…I don’t dislike you.”

“But you’re so indifferent toward me. The entertainment world is a cesspool—aren’t you afraid I’ll cheat? Or does it not matter to you if I do?”

“…What kind of talk is that? I… mmph…”

Qian Xingzhi’s kiss crashed down like a tidal wave. His tongue forced Shen Li’s lips apart in a brutal invasion, plundering without mercy or pause for breath until Shen Li’s head spun and his lungs burned. In the end, as tears pricked Shen Li’s eyes, Qian Xingzhi’s deliberately icy voice stabbed like needles into his heart:

“Twice a year we meet, and every time you act like nothing’s allowed—Officer Shen, go ask around. Is there anyone else like you in the whole world?”

Shen Li froze, his resisting hands faltering.

“Isn’t your stamina supposed to be top-notch? Why do you always reject me these past few years?”

Qian Xingzhi had fixated on this one point.

If Shen Li said something like “I have to go to work,” Qian Xingzhi would blow up again. So he endured in silence, brows furrowed, bearing his lover’s reckless rage.

He could tell Qian Xingzhi was truly unhappy.

“Sorry…”

Shen Li knew his apology rang hollow.

Qian Xingzhi continued: Do you know how many people like me? Do you know how many line up every day to jump into my bed?

Hearing that, Shen Li couldn’t hold back a curse. He shot back coldly, “If you’ve got options, why stick with me? Go on, find someone else.”

Qian Xingzhi did have strong needs.

In their younger days, Shen Li had the time and stamina to keep up. But now? How could he spare hours—let alone six or seven—to match that?

Should he quit his job, or should Qian Xingzhi?

Even if Qian Xingzhi could slack off, Shen Li couldn’t.

Years later, Shen Li still remembered that afternoon in Cloud City. They’d parted on bad terms when Qian Xingzhi finally stormed out of the room.

Fortunately, Shen Li wasn’t one to overthink. He didn’t read more into Qian Xingzhi’s behavior beyond the anger.

So after that unhappy encounter, Shen Li left quickly, hoping Qian Xingzhi would cool off alone.

It wasn’t until after the divorce, while cleaning the apartment, that Shen Li found Qian Xingzhi’s medical records.

During that Cloud City shoot, Qian Xingzhi had been seeing a therapist regularly.

The notes read:

1. Patient suffers severe insomnia, plagued by dreams of his wife meeting with accidents.

2. Patient shows pronounced somatic symptoms; diagnosed with OCD.

3. Patient harbors intense sexual fantasies about his wife.

The therapist recommended more face-to-face time and open communication with his wife.

The doctor noted that such fantasies were common among obsessively lovesick suitors, rare in married couples.

Yet Qian Xingzhi’s symptoms only worsened—especially after Shen Li’s visit to Cloud City, when he’d pinned Shen Li down once. It got even more severe than before.

The problem was, Shen Li had never heard a word about it before the divorce.

Logically, with Qian Xingzhi’s chatty nature—he could spin a tale from a stray dog giving birth—their communication had dwindled to nothing. He hadn’t even shared this.

So it was only post-divorce that Shen Li realized Qian Xingzhi had developed serious psychological issues toward the end of their marriage.

Now, seeing “sexual life disharmony” listed first with a 50% weight, Shen Li gained fresh clarity: Qian Xingzhi’s world was a perspective all its own, one he’d never truly grasped.

Maybe the real reasons Qian Xingzhi wanted the divorce differed from what he’d assumed.

Would this show give him a chance to figure it out?

Shen Li wasn’t sure.

He narrowed his sharp, cool eyes and met Xiao Chen’s gaze for a long moment before saying, “Yeah. I guess I never thought it was that big a deal—50%.”

Xiao Chen nodded. “Your ex also listed another reason for the divorce: ‘not on the same path.’ No percentage there. What percentage would you assign it?”

Shen Li’s gaze went distant. He replied coolly off the cuff, “If those are his only two, then maybe the other 50%.”

“So you agree with that answer?”

“Yeah.”

Xiao Chen pressed on: “Since you both feel you’re not on the same path, why remarry?”

Shen Li had no answer. He’d never seriously pondered it.

Marriage, divorce, remarriage—the choices had always been Qian Xingzhi’s.

Fortunately, Xiao Chen didn’t push. “Alright, if you’re unsure, let me rephrase: In these days apart, have you considered moving closer to his path?”

He’d already left his post as a detective.

Even if not, his health no longer suited frontline work. Remarrying Qian Xingzhi might mean changes—adjusting how they got along.

But…

Qian Xingzhi’s path…

A world of glamour and indulgence, high society?

“I probably wouldn’t.”

Shen Li frowned, honest as ever. “His path is too far from mine.”

Xiao Chen nodded, summing up. “So, to clarify: You want him to change and come to you?”

Shen Li pondered again, long and hard.

Then he shook his head, his refined features creasing deeper. “Forcing one person to change isn’t fair either.”

Xiao Chen fell silent.

With both paths closed off, she had no follow-up. She pivoted stiffly to the next question.

Once all were done, Xiao Chen reviewed the live broadcast procedures. Shen Li confirmed each one before leaving the prep room. It was nearly eleven-thirty, less than an hour until showtime.

Lunchtime again, but when Xiao Chen invited him to eat, Shen Li politely declined. He had no appetite.

Maybe from lack of real rest, his vision blurred and his legs ached. After some internal debate, he decided to use the remaining time for one more call to Qian Xingzhi.

Qian Xingzhi was probably in the middle of makeup, so his assistant answered the phone.

“Hello, who’s this?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice asked.

This suggested Qian Xingzhi had even deleted the contact note for his number.

“It’s Shen Li. Let me speak to Qian Xingzhi.”

“Ah, Mr. Shen, please hold. The boss is doing an interview right now.”

“Oh, in that case, forget it. Goodbye.”

Shen Li hung up abruptly, as if he were pinching pennies on phone bills after hitting that first roadblock.

Yet, roughly three minutes later, Qian Xingzhi called back, cutting straight to the chase:

“What is it?”

For some inexplicable reason, Qian Xingzhi now sounded utterly aloof. Even his voice had shifted to that crisp, professional announcer timbre, chilly to the bone.

It put Shen Li on edge instinctively.

Shen Li tamped down his exasperation, closed his eyes briefly, and then said:

“I’m about to lose cell service soon, so I figured I’d better confirm with you one more time. As a public figure, if there’s anything you don’t want getting out, you should tell me now.”

No sooner had Shen Li spoken than a long pause stretched out on the other end. Finally, that low, resonant voice replied coolly:

“Mm, nothing. I don’t care what you do. Just be yourself—no need to worry about others, or about me.”

Shen Li: “…”

Fine. He was sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong again.

But—

But last night, you…

Shen Li clenched his jaw against the urge to lash out, his knuckles whitening around the phone. Still, he kept his tone casual as he pressed on:

“You got drunk last night—remember that?”

“Of course.”

“And the things you said?”

“What things?”

Qian Xingzhi sounded perfectly normal, without a trace of feigning ignorance.

Shen Li could hardly believe it. He furrowed his handsome brows and demanded into the receiver:

“You remember getting drunk, but not what you said? Then what else do you remember?”

A brief silence lingered for two seconds.

Then that magnetic voice came through:

“I remember kissing you too—so what? Captain Shen, you gonna fine me for it?”

Click.

Shen Li ended the call with icy detachment.