[Gold Powder GL] True Elegance Comes with Knowledge - chapter 22

Peifang’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion.

In truth, she had already considered all these things—only that Yan Hui expressed them more clearly, more logically, and in a way that completely cut off any lingering hope.

So, although she felt uneasy inside, she also clearly realized that Yan Hui was simply stating the truth.

Perhaps it was because Yan Hui had no one else to say these things to, or maybe it was a desperate act in a chaotic moment—Peifang raised her hand to gently touch her lower abdomen and couldn’t help but ask, “Then what do you think I should do to stop the damage in time?”

Yan Hui had no intention of meddling in someone else’s marriage, but since Peifang had asked, she felt she could say a bit more: “That depends on what kind of outcome you want.”

Peifang fell silent.

Maybe even she herself didn’t really know what kind of outcome she wanted.

Did she want to make Jin Fengju mend his ways? But the cracks in her heart were already there, and she could never accept him again so easily, without any resentment. Divorce? To sever ties completely with Jin Fengju and the Jin family—that thought had indeed crossed her mind, but she didn’t seem prepared for it.

More importantly, what would happen after the divorce? She couldn’t imagine what kind of life she would have, nor how she could care for the child growing inside her—arriving at such an inopportune time.

No matter which path she chose, it seemed fraught with worries.

While she hesitated, Yan Hui continued, “From my perspective, there are only two possible outcomes. One is taking ineffective action, or doing nothing at all, and then watching everything spiral out of control; the other is taking effective action, bringing everything under your control. As for whether the ending is divorce or not, that doesn’t really matter.”

Peifang was stunned. This was not what she had thought.

She had believed the two outcomes were either divorce or staying married. But according to Yan Hui, divorce was merely an “ending,” not the “result.”

“I…” she said uncertainly, instinctively touching her belly again. “I don’t quite understand.”

“That’s normal—it’s a matter of perspective,” Yan Hui said, seeming to glance at her but then looking away. “Because you’re a woman, your thoughts get tangled up in whether to divorce or not.”

“If it were a man dissatisfied with his wife, he usually wouldn’t think about divorce. He’d either openly take a concubine, secretly keep a mistress, or just find a handful of female companions in the alleys—dancers, actresses, female celebrities… In short, there are plenty of ways to entertain themselves.”

Peifang thought about it and realized it was true. It was always women who talked about divorce, as if the word itself could be a threat. But men? They didn’t have to go through such a process—one wife at home, others outside, maybe even several.

As she tossed and turned, agonizing over the decision, when she finally resolved to say the word “divorce,” it probably sounded ridiculous to a man. They wouldn’t feel threatened—just think she was “making a fuss again.” They might restrain themselves or try to coax her, but only to stop the fuss, never admitting fault, let alone “turning over a new leaf.”

Putting herself in a man’s shoes, Peifang was shocked to find she had never understood their mindset so clearly before.

Before, she had only a vague notion that men were unfaithful and ungrateful once they had what they wanted. Now, from this new angle, she suddenly understood: for them, this was no big deal.

With Yan Hui’s sharp insight, Peifang finally realized that all her previous plans—divorce, aborting the child, making a scene at home—were ultimately “ineffective actions” because they didn’t truly affect Fengju, and the outcome was never in her hands.

This realization was depressing, but at the same time it sparked a flicker of excitement: if those were ineffective, then what exactly were effective actions?

She thought so, and dared to ask.

“Effective action means having a goal, then making targeted plans and taking steps to achieve it smoothly,” Yan Hui said, looking intently at her. “At the very least, do you know what kind of person the woman he’s seeing outside is?”

Peifang was startled—not only because Yan Hui directly brought up the matter, but because of the question itself.

She looked from Yan Hui to Qingqiu, and finally understood something. She smiled bitterly: “So even you two know. Sure enough, this kind of thing is often only hidden from the person involved.”

What she could have guessed was already known in the Jin household. Rumors would only multiply, and the more unrelated people were, the easier it was to find out.

Her lips trembled slightly. “I asked someone to check…”

“Why ask someone else?” Yan Hui interrupted. “You can still get around by car, so Jin family probably hasn’t restricted your movements. If you want to know something, go see for yourself. Why delegate it?”

Peifang’s face went pale. “I…”

She opened her mouth several times, wanting to explain, but every word felt so hollow. For her, this was an embarrassing secret she couldn’t face directly. Even asking others to check was done hesitantly, dodging the issue in circles.

How could she blame others for not telling her? As Jin Fengju’s wife, she should have been the first to notice something was wrong.

But since even she was avoiding it, naturally no one else felt comfortable discussing it with her.

And not knowing anything, there was no way to set a goal or make a plan. No wonder all her attempts were ineffective, merely emotional outbursts with no real effect—because all her actions were aimed at herself, not at anyone else.

If she made a fuss, people might just think she was immature.

“I…” Her fragile emotions reached a peak, but then she slowly calmed. “I’m going now. To see for myself what kind of person she is, and make sure he’s lost in her.”

When she said this, her expression looked like she was about to cry at any moment, but she held it back and gradually grew calm.

“Excuse me,” she nodded to Yan Hui and Qingqiu, forcing herself to keep her dignity as she stood, “I wanted to invite you to dinner… maybe next time.”

Yan Hui didn’t respond but pulled out a pen and paper and wrote a note: “My address.”

Peifang took it gratefully.

Yan Hui gave her the address because she knew Peifang wouldn’t find anything pleasant there, and afterward, it would be hard for her to return to the Jin residence calmly and pretend nothing had happened.

Though with Peifang’s status, she wouldn’t lack places to stay—even a hotel was an option—Yan Hui still gave her the address, offering an alternative.

After Peifang left, Yan Hui looked at Qingqiu and rubbed her nose. “Do you think I’m meddling?”

“Family matters are hard for outsiders to judge,” Qingqiu said with a smile. “But this isn’t elsewhere. This is the world of shared stories, and it’s hard not to care about the fates of original characters.”
Hearing this, Yan Hui was a little startled and then smiled sheepishly.

She picked up the menu and handed it to Qingqiu. “The person who invited us is gone; we should eat. Let’s order. It’s on me.”

Qingqiu smiled as she took the menu. “Then I won’t be polite.”

She never asked why Yan Hui had done what she did. She was smart; from their expressions alone, she already guessed everything she needed. For her, that was enough; no need to ask more.

After all, she was one of those Yan Hui had pulled out of the mud.

Thinking this, Qingqiu sighed quietly and glanced down at her shoes.

She was lucky—she had pulled her foot out in time, barely getting muddy. She had met Yan Hui before falling into the pit, avoiding an irreparable situation.

But people… were never satisfied.

The more Qingqiu realized that Yan Hui would reach out to everyone she saw struggling, the more she refused to accept her own status, hoping she was different, unique.

As she flipped through the menu, she asked, “Would you advise her to divorce?”

“I said it depends on the outcome she wants,” Yan Hui answered with a standard phrase. Then, seeing Qingqiu’s disappointment, she grinned slyly, “But if she’s willing to divorce, I think that would be the best choice.”

“And you?” Qingqiu asked casually, “I mean, your attitude toward marriage seems a bit indifferent.”

“Ah…” Yan Hui raised a hand to cover her face. “You caught me.”

She took a deep breath, put her hand down, and said seriously, “That’s right. Since you’ve found out, no need to hide it—I’m against marriage.”

Yan Hui looked at Qingqiu, seeing this as a teaching moment, and continued, “Love is just one part of life, sometimes a very small part. Compared to marriage and having children, I think it’s more meaningful to invest time and energy elsewhere.”

Her expression was serious, her words sincere, but Qingqiu just smiled.

Though perhaps inappropriate, she was truly glad to know that this person across from her had no plans to marry anyone in the future.

Because as long as she stayed by Yan Hui’s side, no one else would ever be closer or more intimate with her.