After Being Deeply Hurt, I Chose Divorce, But He Called Me the Bad Woman - Reviews

I've been thinking a lot about the symbolism in this section, and the milk keeps coming back to me. It's supposed to be nourishment—something healthy, something caring. A bedtime ritual. But Gu Huai turns it into a vehicle for poison, for control, for violation. That's not accidental writing. The author is using the milk as a symbol for everything toxic in this marriage—things that look like care on the surface but are actually weapons. And then there's the wedding ring. Wei Zhao noticing that Lu Zhenzhu has removed it, and then the detail that HE also took off his ring and threw it away. Two people, both discarding the symbol of their commitments, but for completely different reasons. Hers is out of survival. His is... well, we don't know yet, and that mystery is killing me. The most powerful symbol though is the powder itself. It's colorless, tasteless, invisible. Just like the emotional abuse Lu Zhenzhu has been living with. You can't see it until it's already inside you, and by then it's too late to spit it out. She got lucky this time—she caught him before drinking it. But how many other times has she swallowed things she shouldn't have without even knowing?

Okay so I need to talk about this absolutely unhinged moment where Gu Huai is literally pouring powder into her milk. Like. What. He calls it a 'love potion for married couples' as if that's a normal thing to say when you're trying to drug your wife into having sex with you. This isn't romance, this is a criminal case waiting to happen. The plot has been building this tension for chapters and then BOOM—she catches him red-handed. I literally gasped out loud. And the worst part? He doesn't even deny it. He just sits there like 'it's harmless, drink it.' The audacity. The absolute, unfiltered audacity. But here's what really got me—the pregnancy reveal. Jiang Sesè tailing her to the hospital and then sneaking into the doctor's office to find out how far along she is? That's next-level villain energy. And then her internal monologue about 'the baby absolutely could not be allowed to stay'—chills. Actual chills. The plot is moving so fast and every twist is darker than the last. I also loved the detail about Wei Zhao watching her from his car and noticing she took off her wedding ring. That's a plot thread I didn't see coming at all. Who is this guy and why does he matter? The author is planting seeds everywhere and I am HERE for it.

This section of the novel is a masterclass in escalating tension. Let me walk through why I literally stayed up until 3 AM reading this. It starts with the confrontation—Gu Huai accusing HER of cheating. That's a great opening hook because it immediately flips the power dynamic. Then it moves to the drugging scene, which is the emotional peak of this section. And then—without letting the reader catch their breath—it pivots to the pregnancy reveal and Jiang Sesè's villain plan. Three major plot developments in what feels like a few chapters, and each one hits harder than the last. The pacing between scenes is also really smart. After the intense bedroom confrontation, we get a quieter moment where Lu Zhenzhu is crying on the sofa, and then Gu Huai's reaction—storming out but then ordering Aunt Zhang to prepare another glass of milk. That detail alone is so chilling. He's not remorseful, he's just making sure his plan continues. The chapter ending with Jiang Sesè learning about the pregnancy and deciding the baby must go—that's a perfect cliffhanger. I immediately opened the next chapter. The author knows exactly how to keep you hooked and I respect it so much.

Let me just say this upfront: the conflict in these chapters is MASTERCLASS level. Every scene raises the stakes, and by the end I was genuinely invested in what happens next. Start with the restaurant scene. The external conflict is obvious—Jiang Sesè vs. Lu Zhenzhu, the other woman vs. the wife. But the author layers it so smartly. It's not just these two women; it's the entire friend group watching, judging, waiting. "Those who were close to Jiang Sesè openly scrutinized Lu Zhenzhu, their eyes flickering between the two women as if making silent comparisons." The social stakes are huge—everyone has an opinion, everyone's taking sides, and Lu Zhenzhu has to navigate this minefield while pretending she doesn't care. Then there's the internal conflict, and this is where it gets really good. Jiang Sesè is torn between her love for Gu Huai and her ambition. She genuinely believes he loves her—"A-Huai loved her, cared for her"—but she's also willing to use a pregnancy as a weapon. That cognitive dissonance is delicious. She's not a cartoon villain; she's a complex woman who thinks she's the hero of her own story. Gu Huai's internal conflict is tragic. He thinks he's being reasonable—"I have a wife who will bear my children. You'll marry someone else someday"—but he's actually being cruel. He's trapped between his sense of duty and his history with Jiang Sesè, and his attempt to be fair actually makes everything worse. The stakes escalate beautifully. First it's just social awkwardness at dinner. Then Jiang Sesè reveals her pregnancy. Then Gu Huai demands she "get rid of the child." Then she plays the health card—"losing this baby could cause serious damage." Now the stakes are life and death, fertility and future. The conflict has moved from "who gets the man" to "who controls the narrative of motherhood." And Chen Hang! He's the wildcard. His offer to Lu Zhenzhu—"A-Huai will abandon you sooner or later—why not leave him first and come to me?"—introduces a whole new conflict vector. Now there's a potential alliance, a betrayal within the betrayal, a question of whether Lu Zhenzhu will stay passive or fight back. The suspense maintenance is excellent too. We know Jiang Sesè is pregnant, but does Gu Huai? Does Lu Zhenzhu? The author drips out information slowly—Jiang Sesè's nausea, the hospital visit, the alley confession—keeping us guessing about who knows what and when they'll find out. By the end of these chapters, the conflict has escalated from a messy love triangle to a full-blown war with pregnancy as the weapon, divorce as the battlefield, and everyone's future hanging in the balance. I need to know what happens next.

There's this one scene that I cannot stop thinking about. Lu Zhenzhu peering through the bedroom door crack and seeing Gu Huai humming a cheerful tune while pouring powder into her milk. The contrast between his casual humming and the absolutely sinister act he's committing—it's like something out of a psychological thriller. The author describes it so simply: 'He hummed a cheerful tune as he worked.' That's it. That one detail does so much work. It shows how normalized this violence is for him. He's not tense, he's not guilty, he's just... doing it. Like making breakfast. And then there's the hospital scene. Jiang Sesè waiting outside the OB-GYN office, watching Lu Zhenzhu come out, then slipping inside like a ghost to steal medical information. The cold calculation of it. The way the author captures that moment of Jiang Sesè's expression darkening when she learns about the pregnancy—it's cinematic. I could see this as a film. The dinner party scene that's teased at the end also sounds like it's going to be devastating. The title alone—'The Dinner Party Where Everyone Mocked Her'—tells me this is going to be a public humiliation scene, and honestly, after everything we've seen, I'm not sure I can handle it. But I'll read it. I have to.

I need everyone to understand that Jiang Sesè is not your typical jealous mistress character. She's strategic. She's patient. She spent HALF A MONTH trying to get Gu Huai to divorce Lu Zhenzhu and when that didn't work, she came up with a plan to FRAME her for cheating. Let me repeat that. She literally suggested Lu Zhenzhu find a man, pretend to have an affair, so Jiang Sesè could 'catch' them and use the media to destroy her reputation. This woman is a monster. And the way she delivers this plan—so casually, like she's suggesting a recipe for soup—made my blood boil. But what's fascinating is Lu Zhenzhu's reaction. She doesn't just say no. She turns it around and says 'why don't YOU get engaged and see if Gu Huai crashes your wedding?' That's not just rejection, that's a power move. Lu Zhenzhu is waking up in real time and it's beautiful to watch. And Gu Huai—ugh. The scene where he asks for permission to visit Jiang Sesè like it's some kind of marital negotiation? 'If you don't want me to go, I'll send my assistant instead.' This man is gaslighting on a whole different level. He's not even pretending to respect her anymore and he knows it. The dynamic between these three is absolutely poisonous and I can't look away.

Okay so I need to talk about this one scene because it's literally perfect. The private room restaurant gathering? Chef's kiss. The author didn't just describe a fancy dinner—they built this entire microcosm where every detail screams tension. Let me break it down. First, the seating arrangement. "The chairs in the room had been arranged according to the number of guests. An uninvited guest meant one less seat." That's such a subtle but brilliant detail. It's not just about furniture—it's about power dynamics, about who belongs and who doesn't. The fact that they had to call for an extra chair? That's the author telling us this is a crisis, not a casual meal. Then there's the air conditioning moment. Gu Huai literally says "Turn the air conditioning lower" while draping his jacket over Lu Zhenzhu's exposed knees. Think about that scene for a second. The restaurant is cold, but it's not the temperature that's uncomfortable—it's the social dynamics. The AC becomes this metaphor for the chill in the room, the frosty glances, the way everyone's waiting for drama to unfold. And the food! The Spicy Fish. "When the Spicy Fish was served, Jiang Sesè took a bite, only to spit it out almost immediately." Sichuan cuisine—authentic, bold, fiery. And Jiang Sesè can't even handle it because she's pregnant. The author chose this dish deliberately. It's not just background; it's a trigger, a plot device disguised as ambiance. What I love most is how the author uses the restroom as a secondary stage. Jiang Sesè retching in the bathroom, Gu Huai following her, the alley conversation where she drops the pregnancy bomb. The private room is one world, but the hallway and alley are another—more intimate, more dangerous, where the real truths come out. The car scene at the end with Chen Hang and Lu Zhenzhu? Different world entirely. Confined space, locked doors, the passenger seat as a symbol of power. "My passenger seat isn't for just anyone"—Chen Hang's arrogance practically fills the car. This author understands that setting isn't just backdrop. Every location serves the story. The restaurant is a arena. The restroom is a confessional. The alley is a battlefield. The car is a trap. I'm obsessed.

Okay so I need to talk about the absolute nightmare that is this plagiarism reveal. Like, Lu Zhenzhu finally gets her exhibition approved after all that struggle, stands in front of her masterpiece Metamorphosis, and what happens? The hashtag #YoungPainterJiangSesePlagiarismExposed is already trending. The timing is just... cruel. The author really said 'let's destroy everything she's worked for right at her moment of triumph' and I was NOT ready. But here's what really got me—the way Gu Huai handles it. He literally saw the early drafts himself, he KNOWS she didn't plagiarize, and he STILL sides with Jiang Sesè. His excuse? 'She has debts to repay and medical expenses for her father. Her future must not be ruined.' BRO. So Lu Zhenzhu's future is apparently disposable? Her career doesn't matter? This isn't just favoritism, this is calculated destruction of the protagonist's life while the husband actively enables it. And then Jiang Sesè BURNS the drafts. Not just hides them—actually sets fire to them. That's when Lu Zhenzhu finally snaps and slaps her. But of course, the second Gu Huai walks in, Jiang Sesè transforms into the victim. Classic manipulation. The scene where she says 'I only burned the drafts...' like that makes it better? Lu Zhenzhu's line about drafts not going in boxes was honestly the most reasonable thing in that entire conversation and it still wasn't enough. The plot is relentless. Every time Lu Zhenzhu thinks she's making progress, the ground gets pulled out from under her. The auctioned painting paid for by Jiang Sesè but Gu Huai claims she earned it? The gaslighting is off the charts. I'm fuming just thinking about it.

I need to talk about the visual storytelling in this chapter because the author really went all out with the imagery and I am not okay. The opening scene with Gu Huai pulling Lu Zhenzhu into a 'crushing embrace' while she catches the scent of cherry blossoms—Jiang Sesè's body wash on him. That single sensory detail says everything about their relationship. She's physically with her husband but smelling another woman's perfume. The author didn't need a single line of dialogue to make that heartbreaking. But the studio fire scene? That's the one that's going to stick with me. Lu Zhenzhu pushing open the slightly ajar door, instincts screaming warning, and then FLAMES. The description of her lunging forward, dropping to her knees, thrusting her hands into the fire to retrieve sketches that are already turning to ash. The searing pain in her fingers that she ignores. This isn't just plot progression—this is visual devastation. And Jiang Sesè standing there watching, sighing dramatically, saying 'Oh dear, Sister, you're just a step too late.' The casual cruelty of it. The way the firelight would have been casting shadows on her smug grin while Lu Zhenzhu's life's work burned in the foreground. The contrast between the gallery opening—bright, prestigious, Curator Chen praising her artistic conception—and the dark studio with flames consuming everything is masterful scene construction. One moment she's being celebrated, the next she's on her knees watching her future turn to ash. The author really said 'let's give her the highest high and the lowest low in the same chapter' and I respect the commitment to emotional violence.

Can we just take a moment to process what Gu Huai did in that scene where he says 'You're my wife. That will never change.' while literally pinning her against the door? This man is a masterpiece of emotional abuse and the author knows exactly what they're doing. Let me break down the dynamics here because this is important. Lu Zhenzhu is the legal wife. She's the one who's been loyal, who's been creating art, who's been trying to make this marriage work. Jiang Sesè is the mistress who's been installed in their home, who Gu Huai refuses to let go of, who he actively protects even when she's committing crimes against his wife. The wedding photo detail absolutely destroyed me. Lu Zhenzhu beaming with happiness while Gu Huai doesn't even smile. It's not that he doesn't want to smile—it's that the woman he married isn't the one he loves. Oof. That line hits different every time. But here's what really gets me about their relationship—the physical intimacy mixed with emotional neglect. He bites her lip until it bleeds, wraps his arm around her waist, says 'Be good, hm?' while simultaneously threatening her with his company's legal department. This man treats her like a possession, not a person. When she touches her burned hand to accept the Black Card and he doesn't even notice? That's not accidental. That's the whole relationship in a nutshell. And Lu Zhenzhu's response? She doesn't break. She sells the bags he bought her, deposits the money into her friend's account, and says 'I want to divorce Gu Huai. I need to save some money for myself.' This is a woman who's done crying and started calculating. The transformation from 'please love me' to 'how much is this bag worth on the resale market' is honestly inspiring.

Okay let's talk about how this author controls the pacing because it is absolutely ruthless and I love it. We start with what seems like a reconciliation scene—Gu Huai being tender, promising to come home every day, flipping through iris catalogs together. For a brief moment, Lu Zhenzhu almost believes they've gone back to normal. Three days of him actually keeping his word. And then—BAM. The phone. The unread messages. The mistress has another apartment. The perfect mistress-housing setup exposed in one devastating discovery. Then the exhibition. The hope. The praise from Curator Chen about her mother's legacy. And then the news alert. #YoungPainterJiangSesePlagiarismExposed. The hashtag TOPPING the trending list. This is the kind of pacing that makes you physically unable to put the book down because every relief is immediately followed by a worse disaster. The livestream accusation, the Gu Corporation's legal threat, the drive home, the fire, the slap, Gu Huai's entrance, the confrontation, the Black Card, the shopping spree, the resale, the conversation with Yu Tang, returning home to find the living room full of shopping bags with Aunt Zhang having moved them out. All of this in one chapter. The author doesn't give you a single moment to catch your breath. What's interesting is how the chapter ends—'Had fun' trailing off as if Gu Huai is about to make some casual comment while standing among the evidence of his wife's financial independence. The cliffhanger is subtle but effective. You want to know what happens next immediately.

Okay, let's get deep for a second because this book is way more layered than it appears on the surface. The central symbol is obviously pregnancy—but not in the traditional romantic way. Here, pregnancy is LEVERAGE. Jiang Sesè explicitly thinks: "With a child, she would have leverage. A-Huai loved her, cared for her—and now, with a child in the picture, he would surely divorce Lu Zhenzhu immediately." This isn't about creating life; it's about creating a hostage situation. The baby is a tool, a bargaining chip, a weapon. Then there's the hospital test result. "The top one is your test result. The one below is the one you wanted." Jiang Sesè tears up the unwanted result without hesitation. That's symbolic of her entire approach to life—discarding anything that doesn't serve her purpose. She's not mourning a failed test; she's eliminating obstacles. The spicy fish is another symbol I can't stop thinking about. It's supposed to be a treat—Lu Zhenzhu "had always liked spicy food." But it triggers Jiang Sesè's nausea. The fish represents everything Lu Zhenzhu has that Jiang Sesè can't touch: Gu Huai's genuine care, his attention to her preferences, their shared history. Jiang Sesè literally can't stomach it because her pregnancy makes her physically incompatible with that world now. And the jacket scene! Gu Huai draping his suit jacket over Lu Zhenzhu's knees. It's a gesture of care, yes, but symbolically it's about protection, possession, marking territory. He's covering her, claiming her, while Jiang Sesè watches from the outside. The jacket becomes this symbol of the marriage Jiang Sesè wants to destroy but can't access. The most devastating symbol though is the pet metaphor. When Jiang Sesè realizes Gu Huai's feelings for Lu Zhenzhu, she thinks: "Even a pet dog or cat, when kept long enough, would be hard to abandon. Lu Zhenzhu was just a pet Gu Huai kept for comfort—there might be affection, but surely it couldn't compare to what he felt for her." She's comparing her rival to an animal, trying to diminish her, but the irony is that Jiang Sesè sees herself as Gu Huai's true love while treating human beings like objects to be managed. The title of chapter 18—"Get Rid of the Child"—is brutal in its clinical detachment. It's not "abort" or "miscarry" or any softer language. It's "get rid of"—like disposing of trash. That's Gu Huai's voice, that's his worldview: children are things to be managed, women are roles to be filled, love is a transaction. And Chen Hang's offer at the end—"I might not marry a divorced woman, but I can certainly keep you well-provided for"—reduces Lu Zhenzhu to exactly what Jiang Sesè fears becoming: a kept pet. The circle completes itself.