Ji Tao had a weak stomach.

Over the years, I’d gone out of my way to cook nourishing, gentle food for him. Bland dishes were good for his health, but they weren’t tasty.

To suit his palate, I’d constantly experimented with new recipes.

But Ji Tao just had to ruin it for himself.

Shen Zhizhi loved heavy, spicy food—and Ji Tao never mentioned his stomach problems, choosing instead to drink and eat spicy food with her.

On my birthday last year, he’d promised to spend it with me. But he’d received a last-minute call from Shen Zhizhi and rushed out.

Before he left, I’d begged him not to eat anything spicy or stimulating.

He’d smiled dismissively, glanced at the full table of food I’d prepared, and said, “Jiang Xianhao, your cooking is just like you—boring.”

Later that night, he’d been rushed to the hospital with a stomach perforation from the pain.

I’d canceled all my work and taken care of him in the hospital for half a month. Finally, his condition improved.

But when I returned to the ward after handling his discharge papers, I’d found him and Shen Zhizhi eating raw marinated seafood.

That was the first time I’d fought with Ji Tao.

But instead of changing his ways, Ji Tao had only grown closer to Shen Zhizhi—even acting as if I didn’t exist.

……

I pulled my suitcase and headed for the door.

Ji Tao swept all the tableware off the dining table.

“Jiang Xianhao, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you walk out that door today, we’re over.”

He’d threatened me like this before.

Every time, I’d obeyed, too scared to take another step.

But seeing him acting like a madman today, my last shred of patience snapped. “You’ve played too many overbearing CEO roles—you still haven’t snapped out of it, you megalomaniac psycho.”