Chapter Eighteen: The Dawn of a New Journey

A New Beginning

“...Any regrets?”

Duan Fei arched an eyebrow, her crimson lips parting slightly. “Regrets? About marrying you? Thanks for the offer, but the next one will be much better.” She sat opposite Bei Mo with a languid posture, her eyes devoid of the slightest trace of lingering attachment.

The Duan Fei of the past might have put on a performance for him, but now, she only wanted to end this once and for all and embark on a brand-new life.

Bei Mo watched her resolute gaze. A heavy, sorrowful atmosphere enveloped him, making the very air feel thick and suffocating. He drew a deep breath and pushed the divorce agreement toward her. “Sign it.”

Duan Fei picked up the pen and signed her name on the document without a moment’s hesitation. The sound of the nib scratching across the paper was piercingly clear in the quiet room—it sounded like a blade cutting into Bei Mo’s heart.

Just then, Bei Mo’s phone rang. It was his friend, Zhao Yang.

“Bei Mo, have you lost your mind? Are you really going to divorce her? A woman like Duan Fei is impossible to find even with a lantern! If you let this go, you’ll definitely regret it!” Zhao Yang’s voice was laced with urgency.

Bei Mo tightened his grip on the phone, his eyes flickering. He glanced at Duan Fei across the table; she was looking down, organizing her bag, seemingly indifferent to the contents of the call.

“I know what you’re thinking—you think she doesn’t love you, right? Brother, you don’t understand women at all! A woman like Duan Fei might seem heartless, but she’s the most sentimental of all! If you really want to win her back, run after her now. Don’t wait until she’s gone to regret it!” Zhao Yang urged earnestly.

Bei Mo struggled internally. He didn’t know which path to choose, and the surrounding silence only deepened his inner conflict.

“Beep, beep, beep...” The call was disconnected.

Bei Mo looked at the divorce agreement, then at Duan Fei. His lips parted, but in the end, he said nothing.

Duan Fei stood up, took the signed agreement, and handed it to the lawyer. “Mr. Liu, I’ll leave it to you.”

The lawyer took the papers, looked at the two of them, and sighed. “Sigh, let’s part on good terms.”

Duan Fei turned and left without a hint of hesitation. As she reached the door, she suddenly stopped, looked back at Bei Mo, and a faint smile touched her lips. “Bei Mo, I wish you... happiness.”

Bei Mo watched her departing figure, his heart gripped by an invisible hand, making it difficult to breathe. He picked up the pen to sign the agreement, his hand trembling slightly.

“Duan Fei...”

Bei Mo held the pen, his fingertips icy. Every word on the divorce agreement felt like a sharp dagger, piercing his heart. He had once believed he was in control of everything, including this marriage. Now, however, he could only watch helplessly as it reached its end.

He remembered her radiant smiles, the way she would lounge on the sofa watching movies, the meals she had cooked for him... The details he had once ignored now surged forth like a tide, drowning him in an abyss of remorse.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and his trembling hand finally signed his name—Bei Mo.

“It’s done,” the lawyer broke the silence, handing a copy to Duan Fei. “Ms. Duan, this is your copy.”

Duan Fei accepted it, her fingertips gently tracing the texture of the paper, a subtle curve appearing at the corner of her lips. At this moment, she felt like a bird breaking free from a cage, finally able to soar through the sky. She didn’t look at Bei Mo again, turning and walking toward the door with light, steady steps.

“Feifei...” Bei Mo’s voice was hoarse and low, carrying an unconcealable pain.

Duan Fei paused, but she did not look back.

“I...” Bei Mo wanted to say something, but realized he had no words left.

Duan Fei drew a deep breath and pushed the door open. Sunlight spilled over her, as if she were gilded in gold. She walked out without looking back, leaving Bei Mo with nothing but the sight of her resolute silhouette.

“Bei Mo, did you really... just let her go like that?” Zhao Yang’s voice came through the phone, sounding incredulous.

Bei Mo sat slumped in his chair, his eyes hollow, like a shell stripped of its soul. “She wanted to leave; what else could I do?” Bei Mo’s voice was low and powerless.

“You...” Zhao Yang wanted to continue, but Bei Mo cut him off.

“Say no more. Let me be alone.” Bei Mo hung up, buried his face in his hands, and let out a pained groan.

Duan Fei walked out of the law firm. The sunlight was a bit blinding; she raised a hand to shield her eyes, the curve of her smile growing wider. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number: “Hello, President Zhang? The startup capital has arrived. Our project can officially begin...”

Just then, a black Maybach pulled up in front of her. The window rolled down slowly, revealing a familiar face.

“Duan Fei, let’s talk.”

Duan Fei’s hand, when she had signed the papers, had been steady as a rock—as if she weren’t signing a divorce agreement, but a lucrative annual business contract.

Stepping out of the law firm, the sunlight on her skin made her feel refreshed, like a bird set free from a cage, so liberated she could almost take flight. She stretched toward the sky, her red lips parting to whisper: “Divorce? Oh, how sweet!”

Meanwhile, Bei Mo, watching her back as she walked away, felt his heart go completely cold, as if it had been plunged into an ice cellar. He clenched his fists, a fierce fire burning in his eyes: *Ha, woman, don’t think that just because we’re divorced it’s over. The grand drama of chasing one’s wife through hell has only just begun!*

In high spirits, Duan Fei immediately called her business partner, Chen Yu. Her tone was exuberant: “Old Chen, the divorce is settled and the assets divided! The startup capital is here, and we can start building our business. I’m transferring my secret stash to you right now!”

Chen Yu was a man of action. He rubbed his hands together excitedly over the phone: “Sister Li, you’re generous! I’ve been waiting for those words! I’ll start organizing our previous plans right now; we must get the company structure set today!”

The two hit it off immediately and met at a cafe to plan the company’s future. Duan Fei laid out all her ideas, while Chen Yu analyzed them based on market data. They spoke back and forth, their enthusiasm so palpable that passersby couldn't help but glance at them.

“This project of ours is definitely going to be a hit!” Chen Yu slapped the table, full of confidence.

“For sure,” Duan Fei leaned back languidly, her eyes filled with ambition. “If we’re going to do it, we’re doing it big, or we’re not doing it at all.”

On the other side, Bei Mo had begun his “Great Wife-Chasing Plan.” He scrolled through Duan Fei’s social media, studying her preferences, desperate to memorize every detail of her daily life.

“Duan Fei, just you wait. I will make you fall in love with me all over again!” Bei Mo declared to his computer screen, a vow meant to shake the very heavens.

Duan Fei had begun her entrepreneurial journey, and Bei Mo had embarked on his quest to win her back. Their lives seemed to be diverging, but underneath, the currents were shifting. The future was full of uncertainty, but also filled with infinite possibilities.

As evening fell, Duan Fei stepped out of the office, rubbing her sore neck while chatting idly with Chen Yu. Her phone suddenly rang: “Hello? Who is this?”