Li Yuntang was exiled.

“Commander, the car is ready and we can leave at any time to pick up Comrade Li,” the guard reported, expecting Wei Xunzhou to rise quickly and head out. Instead, Wei Xunzhou replied coldly, “No need to pick her up.”

“Huh?” The guard was momentarily stunned, then watched as Wei Xunzhou stood and walked over to his desk. He picked up a pen and began writing on a sheet of paper. Once finished, he handed the page, filled with writing, to the guard. “Deliver this to the organization.”

“Yes, sir!” The guard left, and Wei Xunzhou’s eyes gleamed with resolve.

The rose-colored tint of first love had shattered completely, leaving only disgust for Li Yuntang. Since Li Yuntang remained in her hometown, away from South City, she surely had no memory of Xia Mengge. Yet the harm she inflicted on Xia Mengge was undeniably real. Though Wei Xunzhou lacked concrete evidence that Li Yuntang had framed Xia Mengge, he had other means to make her pay.

Soon, news spread throughout the military housing compound that Li Yuntang had been arrested and exiled to a rural agricultural reform camp. Whispers ran rampant. No one expected Wei Xunzhou, who had once adored Li Yuntang, to be so ruthless. But Wei Xunzhou no longer cared. His mind was filled entirely with images of Xia Mengge.

On the day Xia Mengge disappeared, father and son instinctively called out her name, but no one answered. During the first week, Wei Ming was once again hurt by another child’s rough play, but there was no mother to tend to his wounds or soothe him with song.

After a month, Wei Xunzhou nearly made a grave mistake on the battlefield due to distraction. Though he caught himself in time, there was no longer a Xia Mengge with tear-streaked eyes bustling about to care for him.

With Xia Mengge’s absence, the father and son’s longing for her deepened. It was only then that Wei Xunzhou realized the depth of his feelings. In the second month after her disappearance, he finally understood that he loved Xia Mengge. But his realization came too late—when he longed for her again, she was gone... and his whole body ached.

He sat on the sofa, surveying the small room, as if seeing Xia Mengge’s busy figure moving within. Seven years of marriage, and he had spent much to care for Li Yuntang, leaving little for Xia Mengge. She had to be frugal, stretching every penny as if splitting it in two.

Thus, Xia Mengge had few belongings, yet he remembered each item and where she placed them. On the dresser to the east were several large baskets she had found at the secondhand market; on the table to the west, a water cup bought at a secondhand price; in the wardrobe inside, skirts she had sewn herself from fabric gifted by others, using her own sewing machine.

As Wei Xunzhou counted the few possessions Xia Mengge had, he suddenly realized just how scarce they were—and how pitifully few of the gifts he and his son had given her were.

He took a deep breath and, looking down, noticed something beneath the table. Hesitating briefly, he forced himself to pick it up. Upon recognizing the object, his expression shifted.

It was Xia Mengge’s diary. He recalled mocking her once for writing it, joking that she was preparing to become a published author. At that time, her expression had been complicated, but she said nothing.

Now, as Wei Xunzhou stared at the diary, the same puzzled look that had crossed Xia Mengge’s face appeared on his. He remembered that after her disappearance, all her belongings had vanished as well.

Why was this diary still here?

Soon, the diary would reveal the answer.