Jiang City Evening Broadcast, New Power Talk live studio.
The show usually had moderate ratings, but tonight, viewership suddenly soared.
Because the guest sitting center stage was—Xu Zhiyi.
Once known only as the elusive "Mrs. Lu," a woman who barely ever stepped into the public eye five years ago, she now appeared on camera as the confident, stunning founder of an independent fashion brand.
She wore a sharply tailored black suit, her nude-toned lipstick enhancing her elegance. Her voice was soft, yet firm—earning nods of admiration from the host.
"President Xu, in just six months since Zhixu was founded, your brand has grown from a single studio into a multi-platform presence with physical store partners. What would you say was the key turning point?"
"The moment I stopped trying to please everyone," she replied with a smile."I used to constantly worry—'Will people like this?' 'Will they be satisfied?'Then I realized… If you don't respect yourself, no one else ever will."
The host blinked, clearly realizing that this was more than just business talk.
"We heard that you went through a difficult period in the past few years. Was it that experience that triggered this transformation?"
Xu Zhiyi lowered her gaze slightly, her fingers gently caressing the rim of her water glass. After a moment of silence, she looked up—her eyes clear and bright:
"For five years, I felt like I was living in someone else's script.I tried my best to play the roles: the perfect wife, the obedient daughter-in-law, the dependable friend, the ever-supporting background character…But no one ever really saw me—as a person."
Her tone was calm. Not a trace of bitterness.
But every word struck like a needle.
The screen lit up with scrolling comments:
[Wait… wasn't she the Lu family's young madam before?][Who is she calling out? That's bold.][Damn… I suddenly like her. She's so real.][My heart… hurting for her right now.]
The host paused, seemingly weighing her next question, then gently asked:
"If you could say one thing to your past self, what would it be?"
Xu Zhiyi smiled, a trace of relief flickering in her expression.
"I'd say—wake up sooner."
"And… do you regret having loved that person?"
She was silent for two seconds.
The entire studio seemed to hold its breath.
Then, she slowly shook her head. Her voice was soft—but unwavering:
"No regrets.I just… thank myself for finally waking up."
Meanwhile, in the Lu residence, Lu Yancheng sat alone on the sofa, the glow of the TV casting a cold reflection across his face.
It was the first time he'd ever turned on this kind of interview show—A "coincidental" link forwarded by his assistant.
At first, he hadn't planned to watch.
But the moment he saw her face on screen—He couldn't look away.
He stayed up the entire night—watching the live airing, the replay, the highlight reel.
A one-hour program.He watched it three times.
Every sentence, every pause, felt like a blade carving into his bones.
She said she'd been "living in someone else's script."
She said "no one ever treated her like a real person."
She said she was "grateful she finally woke up."
And what had he done all these years?
Used her like a tool. Taken her for granted. Ignored her feelings without hesitation.
When she was gentle, he was cold.When she pulled away, he lashed out.
And now… now that she had completely let go—
He finally felt regret.
But she was no longer the young wife who used to smile as she served him soup, or softly whisper his name at midnight.
At 4 a.m., he turned off the television and sat alone in the dark—
For the first time, feeling the full weight of loss.
He thought she had just "left for a while."That eventually, she'd return—like always.
But now?
She was living more clearly, more fiercely, more beautifully than ever—And she didn't need him anymore.