Anya, the untouched beauty of our circle. That sentence had been circulating in high society for six years. Because she had been married to Julian, the unattainable legal prodigy, for three years, and their marriage remained unconsummated. Julian had germaphobia, to an infuriating degree. Three years of dating, three years of marriage, he rejected all physical contact. No hugs, no kisses, and certainly no shared bed. I used to refuse to believe it was impossible. A thousand attempts to entice him, a thousand failures. I thought that was just Julian – aloof and refined, seemingly untouched by the world’s grime. But today, I finally understood. The ice prince could come down from his pedestal. And his germaphobia? It could have exceptions too. … In the upscale restaurant, Anya’s fingers, wrapped around her glass, trembled slightly. Through the glass window, she clearly saw Julian kneeling, gently massaging the aching ankle of the woman opposite him. His long, elegant fingers cradled her fair ankle, moving with a tenderness usually reserved for precious treasures. There wasn’t a hint of disgust or discomfort on his face. Was this truly the Julian who would sanitize his hands three times if he accidentally brushed hers? Anya’s hands shook as she snapped a picture, sending it to Julian’s best friend: **”Who is she?”** Liam quickly replied: **”How do you know Chloe?”** Chloe… Anya stared, fixated on the name: **”So, who is she?”** Liam hesitated for a moment, but eventually confessed: **”Julian’s first love.”** **”He gave up inheriting his family business to become a lawyer for her. He got into a fight with hooligans for her, almost lost his life and ended up in the hospital. He was a complete wreck for two years before he finally pulled himself together…”** Anya listened in silence, her mind a blank. Liam tried to comfort her: **”That’s all in the past. He married you, so you’re definitely the one he loves now.”** Was she? Anya chuckled, tears welling up. She still remembered her sophomore year, the first time she saw Julian at Columbia University. He stood at the entrance of the law school, his white shirt ruffled by the wind, as cold and ethereal as a watercolor painting. She was Anya, the heiress of the powerful Anya family, bright and flamboyant, always getting whatever she wanted since childhood. But that day, when she went up to ask for his contact information and was rejected, she learned for the first time that there were indeed some things in this world she couldn’t have. And so began her two years of relentless pursuit: She’d stake out his building every morning with breakfast, and he’d just toss it in the nearest trash can; She’d prepare thoughtful gifts, and he’d discard them without a glance, sometimes even leaving them for stray dogs on the roadside; If she so much as brushed against his sleeve, he’d rip off the shirt and toss it on the spot. But his rejection only fueled her resolve, refusing to give up. Finally, on a rainy night, when she was soaked to the bone at the library entrance, Julian, for the first time in forever, offered her an umbrella. **”Give it a try,”** he said, his voice as cold as ice. She thought she had won. After all, he finally became her boyfriend, and later, her husband. But three years of dating, three years of marriage, he’d still sanitize his hands three times if he accidentally brushed hers. She wanted to hug him, he’d step back; she wanted to kiss, he’d evade; on their wedding night, he slept in his study. Everyone said: **”That’s just Julian. He has severe germaphobia.”** Anya gradually accepted this explanation. After all, he was like that with everyone, wasn’t he? But today, she saw him kneeling to massage another woman’s ankle, his gaze unbelievably tender. It dawned on her, with crystal clarity, that someone *could* be an exception in his heart! How ridiculous. Anya. She had the looks, the figure. The men who chased her could line up from one end of the city to the other. Yet she had debased herself for eight whole years for a man who didn’t love her. If he wouldn’t touch her, plenty of others would. If he wouldn’t love her, plenty of others would. If that was the case, then she would divorce him, completely setting him free to be with his precious first love! With a steel resolve, Anya wiped away her tears and grabbed her bag, striding out of the restaurant. She was in a hurry, and accidentally bumped into Chloe, who was just leaving. The moment their eyes met, the signboard above them suddenly loosened, crashing down heavily towards them. Anya instinctively pushed Chloe away, but she herself was struck on the back by the heavy sign, instantly gushing blood. Blinding pain made her kneel, her vision blurring. Through the haze, she saw Julian sprinting from the parking lot. He practically scooped Chloe into his arms, anxiously checking her for injuries, oblivious to the dirt smudging his expensive suit. Only after confirming Chloe was unharmed did he finally notice Anya lying in a pool of her own blood. **”Why are you here?”** Julian shielded Chloe behind him, his gaze cold and sharp. **”Are you seriously stalking me now, even when I’m meeting friends?”** Anya was in too much pain to speak, feeling her heart ache more than her physical wounds. **”No, the billboard just fell, and this lady saved me…”** Chloe finally regained her composure and began to explain. Julian froze, then slowly turned to me. **”You two… know each other?”** Chloe asked cautiously. Anya couldn’t speak from the pain, only watching as Julian’s expression shifted. **”Yeah, she’s just… someone who’s been relentlessly pursuing me,”** Julian said indifferently, his gaze sweeping over Anya’s pale face. **”She’s been bothering me for a long time.”** The words were like a dagger twisting in Anya’s heart. A choked laugh escaped her, tears mixing with the blood as they streamed down her face. Eight years. And to him, she was just a “pursuer”? Chloe saw Anya’s blood pooling on the ground and worriedly said: **”Julian, you should take her to the hospital. She’s badly hurt.”** But Julian stood rooted to the spot, his voice chillingly clear: **”She’s covered in blood, it’s… unhygienic.”** **”I have germaphobia. I can’t touch her.”** **”Just call 911.”** Anya lay on the cold ground, blood seeping from her forehead, making her face appear even paler. She listened to Julian’s words, her heart feeling as if an invisible hand had clamped down on it, so tight she could barely breathe. The siren of an ambulance grew louder, approaching quickly. Medical personnel rushed over, and just as they were about to lift Anya onto the stretcher, Chloe suddenly swayed, her face draining of all color. **”Chloe!”** Julian lunged forward, catching her steadily before she hit the ground. His usually composed voice was laced with pure panic for the first time. He sharply looked up and told the medical personnel coldly: **”Put her down, take Chloe to the hospital first!”** The nurse looked troubled: **”But Ms. Anya has lost too much blood, she’s already unconscious. Waiting for the next ambulance might be life-threatening…”** **”I called the ambulance,”** Julian cut her off coldly, carefully placing Chloe on the stretcher, his voice brooking no argument. **”I decide who gets priority!”** He finished speaking, then got into the ambulance without looking back. He never spared Anya a single glance the entire time. Anya watched the ambulance drive away, her heart aching to numbness, finally passing out. … When Anya woke up, the blinding white light made her squint uncomfortably. **”You’re finally awake!”** The nurse sighed in relief. **”A kind stranger brought you to the hospital. You need to notify your family to take care of you.”** Anya gently shook her head, her voice weak: **”No, thank you. I’m… alone.”** The nurse was surprised: **”But your records show you’ve been married for three years, with a husband and no children.”** **”I’ll be divorced very soon,”** she said, her voice soft, but filled with a quiet determination. Just as the words left her lips, the hospital room door was pushed open— **”Divorced?”** Julian walked in, his face grim. **”Who’s getting divorced?”** **”A friend of mine,”** Anya lied without batting an eye, her fingertips subtly clutching the edge of the blanket. Julian nodded indifferently: **”She can come to me, I’ll represent her pro bono.”** **”No need for all that trouble,”** she forced a smile, the warmth not reaching her eyes. **”Both parties want it. Just draft the agreement for me.”** Julian didn’t suspect a thing, raising a hand to signal Ryan, his assistant, to prepare it. Once the hospital room door closed, the air suddenly grew suffocatingly quiet. **”Yesterday, Chloe and I were just having dinner as old friends,”** Julian suddenly spoke. **”Don’t get any ideas, and don’t cause any trouble for her.”** Anya suddenly laughed. She was spoiled and willful, but never unreasonable. If he had been honest about having someone in his heart from the beginning, she would never have clung to him for so many years. A sharp pain lanced through her heart. She suppressed her emotions, looking up at him: **”Did you just come here to tell me *that*?”** **”And…”** his tone softened a bit, **”thank you for saving Chloe. She has a clotting disorder, it would have been very serious if she got injured.”** **”As compensation, you can name anything you want.”** Anya stared at him: **”You love her *that* much? Enough to pay *your wife* compensation for her?”** Julian didn’t hear clearly, frowning slightly: **”What?”** Just then, Ryan pushed the door open and handed Anya the drafted divorce agreement. She silently took it, flipping directly to the husband’s signature line and pushing it towards Julian: **”Sign here.”** **”Wrong,”** his long, elegant finger stopped above the page. **”This is the husband’s signature line for the divorce. I’m a lawyer, I should sign on the witness page.”** He was about to turn the page when his phone suddenly rang. The name “Chloe” on his screen burned into Anya’s eyes. **”Turn to the next page,”** he gestured to Anya, turning to answer the call. His voice instantly melted as he spoke: **”What’s wrong?”** Anya didn’t move, her pen still poised over the spot. **”…Okay, I’ll be right there.”** He hung up, then signed without even looking. The moment his pen touched the paper, Anya’s suspended heart finally plunged into an ice abyss. **”Urgent matter at the firm. I’m leaving first.”** His retreating figure was so decisive, he didn’t even realize he’d signed in the wrong place. Anya watched him go, then, trembling, signed her own name in the other column. Once the thirty-day waiting period before the divorce was finalized was over, they’d be truly done. … During that week in the hospital, Anya’s bedside remained empty. She learned to change her own dressings, gritted her teeth through the pain of turning over, and called the nurses herself when her IV needed attention. Julian only appeared, belatedly, on the day she was discharged. **”I’ve been working overtime recently,”** he stood at the hospital room door, his suit pristine, a faint, almost imperceptible jasmine scent clinging to him. Chloe’s perfume. Anya lowered her gaze, arranging her belongings, not bothering to expose his lie. To her surprise, Julian didn’t take her straight home. Instead, he drove her to a newly opened shopping mall. **”What do you want to eat?”** He stood in the elevator, his long, elegant finger scrolling through his phone, asking with a rare patience. **”The shrimp dumplings at this Cantonese restaurant are very authentic.”** From lunch to a movie, he meticulously planned everything. He’d pull out her chair before she sat down, remind her to be careful of the hot soup, and drape his suit jacket over her shoulders when the cinema air conditioning was too strong. **”Is the AC too cold?”** **”Is your seat comfortable?”** **”Does this dish suit your taste?”** This thoughtfulness left Anya in a daze. Eight years. It was our first date that felt even remotely normal. **”Don’t you have germaphobia? And you hate crowded places the most?”** In the dim light of the cinema, she finally couldn’t help but ask. Julian’s movement of adjusting his cuff paused. **”You’ve been cooped up. I’m making an exception.”** His voice was so gentle, uncharacteristically so for Julian. This strange dissonance peaked when he dropped her off, claiming he had to **”go back to the office to work late.”** As if by instinct, Anya hailed a cab and followed him. The shopping mall was brightly lit under the night sky. She saw Julian pick up Chloe, then take her along the same route they had taken that day. The same restaurant, the same cinema hall, they even bought the same dress at the same store! **”I haven’t been back in the States for ages, I don’t know my way around anymore,”** Chloe said, hooking her arm through his, pouting playfully. **”Good thing I have you with me.”** She suddenly tilted her head: **”But I remember you used to despise shopping. You’d rather walk around the mall than through it. How do you know which place has the best dim sum, the comfiest theater seats, the perfect dress for me? Did you secretly do your research?”** Julian’s face remained impassive. The man who recoiled from even accidental touches, now, as Chloe turned to try on a dress, effortlessly took the handbag she offered. “Yeah, I did my homework.” Through the display window, Anya’s heart lurched, a sharp, icy pain lancing through her, each beat a fresh torture, every breath a struggle. A mere tool, used to impress his precious first love! She trembled all over, wanting to flee, but Chloe spotted her with sharp eyes.
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