此去經年

On the day of our sixth wedding anniversary, tabloids exploded with juicy gossip: my husband, Cheng Xu, was spotted entering and leaving a hotel with Jiang Yixue, the hottest young actress in town. The photos showed a tall, handsome man sharing sweet smiles with an innocent and charming woman. The hashtag #ChengXuJiangYixueRomance quickly shot to the top of trending searches. Fans flooded the comments section with fiery remarks: "The freshly minted Best Actor got swooped up by the queen herself—what an icon!" I gave it a quick thumbs-up without a second thought. Minutes later, Jiang Yixue called me, sobbing and stammering that she and Cheng Xu had only been running lines together and nothing else had happened. Cheng Xu grabbed the phone and unleashed his fury: "Who told you to like that post? Don't you know this could damage Yixue's reputation?" "You can't even handle basic PR work. If you screw up again, you're fired." Then he turned to comfort Jiang Yixue, his voice soft and reassuring: "Don't mind her. She's always acting like a wild dog, causing trouble." As I listened to Jiang Yixue's laughter, I quietly hung up the phone. Eight years of knowing Cheng Xu. Six years of marriage. I had stood by him as he rose from obscurity to stardom. I had lost count of the messes I had cleaned up for him, each one more draining than the last. But this time, I didn't want to fix it anymore.