TSFLIP Chapter 775

The phone seemed to have fallen, hitting something, and the recording ended there.

Zhen Wei’s mind went completely blank. She forgot how to cry, swallowed whole by a sudden, incomprehensible terror.

Han Wei would never lie to her. If he said Han Qi wasn’t their son… then who could he be?

Her thoughts spiraled into a storm, a violent chaos she couldn’t untangle—until the sound of footsteps snapped her back.

It was Han Qi.

Her son. The face she knew better than her own—yet, suddenly, she couldn’t say she knew him at all.

Han Qi walked slowly into the room. His expression still carried traces of grief for his father’s death—not exaggerated, but subtly present, hidden beneath a calm smile that only made it feel heavier, more deliberate.

Zhen Wei instinctively hid the phone behind her back. She forced herself to sound normal as she asked, “What are you doing here?”

Softly, he replied, “Fengguang was worried about you. I was too. I wanted to come check on you.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” She wasn’t good at lying, but instinct told her she couldn’t let him find out about the recording. She brushed at the tears still clinging to her lashes, trying to look like the same grieving woman she’d been for days.

But that illusion lasted only on the surface.

Han Qi stopped beside her. He looked at her quietly for a long time before giving a faint, almost gentle smile. In his eyes—dark as midnight—there was a calm that felt too deep, too knowing. “You know,” he said softly, “don’t you?”

At that moment, all traces of sorrow vanished from his beautiful face.

Of course they did. There was no need to act anymore.

He was still the son she remembered—the gentle, thoughtful boy—but an icy dread spread through Zhen Wei’s chest. It was him, and yet not him. There was a suffocating pressure in the air, something powerful and terrifying pressing down on her spirit.

Then the pain hit—sharp, blinding pain splitting through her skull.

Clutching her head, she sank to the floor as suppressed memories burst open like floodgates. She covered her mouth, her pupils dilating with horror as the truth returned—too real, too vivid.

Han Qi tilted his head slightly, still smiling. “Remember now, Mrs. Han?”

Her voice broke into a scream. “Han Chen… you’re Han Chen!”

She lunged at him, wild and desperate—no trace of her usual composure left, just a woman unhinged, like a starving wolf trying to tear apart its prey.

Han Qi simply stepped aside. She stumbled past him and crashed into the table.

“Mrs. Han,” he said gently, his tone calm, almost tender. “You should be thanking me.”

Under his long, curled lashes, his eyes gleamed clear and almost holy. “If I hadn’t… adjusted you, your marriage with Mr. Han would’ve fallen apart long ago. So, shouldn’t you be grateful?”

“Thank you?” she screamed, her voice raw with hysteria. “Thank you for hypnotizing me and Han Wei? For killing our real son?!”

Gone was the gentle, refined woman she had always appeared to be.

Because this—this was her true nature. Raised in privilege, she had always looked at others through tinted lenses—spoiled, sharp-tongued, self-centered. She craved love but refused to give it. She demanded that Han Wei love her unconditionally. Naturally, ten years ago, he had already brought up divorce.