Chapter Seventy-Two: Mohe

“If it weren’t for you, our child wouldn’t have died. If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have been driven to such despair that she jumped from Shuihui Bridge,” He Zheyu roared, like an enraged lion.

Only then did Zhao Yiya slowly rise to her feet, her face streaked with tears as she looked at He Zheyu and said, “The only rightful Mrs. He can be me. That’s a fact acknowledged by all of Nan City. Her presence would only make the He and Zhao families the laughingstock of high society, and the Hes you care so much about would be plunged into crisis. I, Zhao Yiya, have done nothing wrong.”

Unable to contain his fury at her words, He Zheyu raised his hand to slap Zhao Yiya, who stood before him. But just as his hand was about to strike her face, a sudden thought flashed through his mind and he pulled his hand back. “Since you care so much about the title of Mrs. He, I will grant your wish. The wedding is set for one week from now. Since your Zhao family wants to play games, I’ll play along. Let’s see if you bring about my ruin, or if I bring about yours.” His voice was icy as it reached Zhao Yiya’s ears.

With that, he left the hospital room, not sparing her another glance. In He Zheyu’s eyes, even breathing the same air as Zhao Yiya filled him with disgust. He left her alone in the ward, where a faint smile appeared on her tear-stained face. She murmured to herself, “After waiting all these years, you’re finally willing to marry me? I believe that one day you’ll discover my love for you runs bone-deep.”

Han Mo saw He Zheyu emerging from the room in a hospital gown, and stammered, “Boss, Miss Mo’s body... it really might never be found. They’ve dragged Shuihui River several times, but found nothing.”

He Zheyu stopped in his tracks, his eyes wet. “Perhaps this is her final punishment for me. Have them rename Shuihui Bridge to the Mo-He Bridge, and Shuihui River to the Mo River.” A single tear fell onto his hand as he spoke, and he walked toward the stairwell.

Han Mo mouthed the name “Mo-He” several times, and suddenly his eyes brimmed with tears. How deep must one’s love be to unite two surnames into the name of a river? He wiped his tears and hurried after him.

Han Mo dismissed the search teams from Shuihui River and had the characters for Shuihui Bridge replaced with Mo-He Bridge. Beside the river, a finely carved stone was erected, inscribed in traditional script with the words “Mo River.”

No one knew whether He Zheyu had gathered every rose in Nan City and scattered their petals across the Mo River. The surface of the river was thickly strewn with rose petals, as if he wanted to tell Mo Qinghan that his love for her would not fade with her passing, but only grow deeper.

A week later.

The wedding of He Zheyu and Zhao Yiya took place as scheduled. However, Han Mo led the invited guests not to a wedding-themed park or a luxury hotel, but to a funeral home.

Sitting in the bridal car, Zhao Yiya grew increasingly uneasy as the car headed farther off course. She turned to He Zheyu, who sat beside her with a dark face, and asked, “Zheyu, where are we going? What’s the venue you chose? Why does this place feel so eerie?”

He Zheyu didn’t answer. Zhao Yiya began to panic in the car, glancing anxiously out the window at the increasingly desolate scenery slipping past.

When they reached the entrance of the funeral home, the bridal car came to a stop.

Clad in black, He Zheyu stepped out of the car. The cold indifference on his face was gone, replaced by his usual impassive expression as he faced the invited guests, all of whom were regarding him with bewildered, uneasy looks.