Stay calm

The original poster (OP) now summarizes her failure as follows: the premise of her failure was coming empty-handed but prepared; the key to her failure was that she lost her composure and became the one who jumped up and lashed out; the lesson learned is that with a woman as skilled as her ex, you can't try to explain things clearly, you should just go up and slap her so hard she can't even speak properly.
The dinner party ended, but was that the end of it? Of course not, that's not like her ex's style. And that would be a disservice to the summary of her experience she wrote after returning home.
Some people asked what A's intentions were, since he knew beforehand. I also hated A afterwards; I'm convinced he conspired with her ex beforehand, you could tell from his clear-cut stance.
However, A later called her husband, saying she was really sorry for embarrassing him, but her ex only told her to bring Chai He Niu along, as she wanted to get along well with her later. Sigh, naive men, do you really think your current partner can be friends with your ex? That's ridiculous.

Follow-up report on the dinner party.
F called me and said that after we left, her ex calmly wiped the vegetable leaves off her chest and face, then got up to apologize and say goodbye to everyone. How generous and poised!
A called her husband that night to explain, which I've already mentioned before, so I won't go into details.
My husband and I went home and briefly analyzed her behavior.
If she really wanted to steal my husband back, or have a baby with him, as she said before, tonight's actions completely blocked that path. There's no other explanation; she just came back to cause trouble for us, because she's resentful that we're doing well. I
talked to my husband for most of the night, and eventually he was too tired to sleep. I lay there with my glasses gleaming in the darkness, my heart still pounding as I recalled the events at the restaurant. I regretted my panicked state while gritting my teeth, determined to get my revenge.
But reason told me that blindly setting up a police station to frame her might only hurt me. I couldn't retaliate for the sake of revenge. At least I needed to figure out what my ex's real purpose was. My husband and I's guesses, no matter how reasonable, could be wrong.
That little bastard A must know something. Even if he wasn't involved in that meeting that night, he must know something. I wanted to jump up and call him immediately, but then I thought better of it. What if A's wife really thought I was a mistress?

The next day, Saturday, I got up in the morning intending to call A. After thinking for a while, I fumbled through my contacts and found A's wife's number. I sent her a message: "Hey, I'm Chaihe Niu. Feeling down? Want to go shopping?"
I wasn't particularly close to A's wife, but we could chat a bit at occasional gatherings among the families. My husband and I's social circle wasn't limited to A, B, C, D, E, and F. That was just my husband's circle. I was just a casual acquaintance, and I never intended to develop a deeper relationship with her.
A's wife is quite straightforward. She called and said A had gone out that morning, and since it was convenient to talk at his place, she wanted me to come over. I said I'd rather not; a walk would help me unwind, and just talking to her would be too stressful.
When we met after getting ready, it was lunchtime, so we found a place to eat first, deliberately choosing a less crowded and noisy restaurant. As soon as we met, I grabbed A's wife's arm and said, "Tell me, do you believe me or your ex? If you believe her, let's break up and not eat here." A's wife said, "I need to hear your explanation first. If it's convincing, I'll believe you; if not, I'll say goodbye."

After ordering, I took a sip of tea and said, "A's wife, I don't know where to begin explaining. Tell me what A told you when he got home, and then I'll explain in detail."
A's wife started by saying, "My A feels quite embarrassed. He kindly arranged the meal but didn't expect it to embarrass you two." I said I know A meant well; he called last night to explain. What could my husband and I possibly criticize him for? But you didn't go when A hosted a dinner, and none of the other girls (like F) brought anyone, only specifically requesting that someone else bring me. Didn't A think anything was wrong? He believed his ex when he said he wanted to be with me?
A's wife said he didn't tell me this, but A felt yesterday that his ex was somewhat targeting me, saying that she brought up the past first, clearly unable to swallow her anger.
I said, what's there to be angry about with your ex? Those stupid women believe everything they say. When they were together, I barely interacted with someone else except at the police station. We only became close after they broke up and she started hanging out with our group.
Aunt A's words were true; your husband knows his own situation. He's had a bunch of unwanted suitors, and his ex caused quite a stir back then. It was only with you that he finally settled down. You can't blame everyone for misunderstandings. Besides, his ex hasn't had a good time these past two years. You're his now, so why are you still bothered by her?
From Aunt A's words, I grasped two key points: first, knowing her ex is having a hard time makes me happy; second, Aunt A's advice not to hold a grudge against her ex suggests she subconsciously thinks I'm being unreasonable.

Therefore, my subsequent conversation had two objectives: first, to find out what happened to her ex these past two years, hoping to uncover the reason for her current erratic behavior, thus preparing for future developments; second, to gain Aunt A's ally. Her ex might not be able to handle everything on his own and might still need to rely on Aunt A when necessary. If Aunt A is on my side, it will be good for me. Although I have a best friend, we're not in the same social circle. At most, she'll help me vent, but she doesn't offer any real help. At worst, she'll throw a punch if things get out of hand. I

jokingly told A's friend, "If someone called A in the middle of the night saying 'I miss you,' and then told you they wanted to have a child with A, tell me what you would do. I want to learn from them and see if I'm being too petty."
A's friend said, "Really? That's something an ex would do?"
I said, "You don't know me, but do you think you know my ex perfectly? Forget about whether I was a homewrecker or not, any woman who can cry in front of her ex-boyfriend and provoke his wife is no pushover."
A's friend said, "Anyway, I've had more contact with you these past two years. To say whether my ex has changed or not, I really don't know."

I said, "If your A had your level of awareness, she wouldn't have been used as a pawn by her ex. What were those guys thinking yesterday? Whether I was a mistress or not was none of their business; they just watched the show. But afterwards, when they got home, they thought, 'You, A, were really shameless! Putting your brother's ex-girlfriend and wife at the same table—who were you trying to seduce?' From now on, everyone's wary of your A. And your ex, he played his part, gaining the sympathy of those stupid men. Just you wait, maybe he'll end up falling for one of them, thinking she's every man's dream just because she has a few ounces of breasts.'

A's wife was stunned. She said, 'Damn it, having breasts isn't everything! I hate it when women wear low-cut tops in the dead of winter, showing off their breasts. It's not like she's on TV or walking the runway. Does she think freezing them will keep her fresh or something? She has big breasts, so why did she get divorced and lose everything?'"
Sigh, this just goes to show how little reason women need for their alliances; a chest is all it takes.

The original poster, picking up where A-la meant, immediately revealed her gossipy side: "Really? Really? Your ex got divorced? Tell me what happened! Damn, you have to share this juicy news with me; it's not right to keep it to yourself."
A-la got excited: "When he broke up with your so-and-so, didn't he say he was going to find a rich man? A few days later, he went to P province. Some relative introduced him to a man in his forties there; apparently, he owns several chain restaurants, and his wife died."
I interjected, "Is it the Shangri-La type or the Shaxian snack bar type?"
A-la said, "I guess he's worth at most a few thousand."
The original poster's gossipy side intensified: "That's considered rich, but not quite a tycoon."
A's mother laughed, saying, "Where do you get so many rich men to date? Does she think she's some kind of Li Jiaxin (a famous Chinese actress)? But she's not bad, at least she's richer than your husband."
I rolled my eyes at her…you old hag.
I asked, "So how did you get divorced?"
A's mother scoffed. She was too embarrassed to say why she was dumped, so she told A they couldn't get along, she wanted to come back and find a job, and asked A to help her find someone.
I subtly warned, "Why does she tell your A everything? You'd better watch out."
A's mother said, "Thanks for the reminder, I'll delete her number from A's phone this afternoon!"

That noon, I had a pleasant lunch with A's mother. During the meal, we not only formed an alliance, but I also briefly described my ex's harassing phone calls and his astonishing performance during the meal. Then, half-jokingly, I pointed to a bone and swore that if I, Chai He Niu, were the mistress who broke them up, I'd let this bone get stuck in my uterus, so that my future child's head would be this bone.
A-laoshi patted the poster's hand and said, "I believe you, I believe you! My husband really met a good actress. My good-for-nothing husband is being manipulated like this. Go home and teach him a lesson."
Then the poster and A-laoshi went shopping.
After parting ways with A-laoshi, on the drive home, the poster thought about how her husband had never mentioned her ex's marriage and divorce. Was he genuinely unaware, or was he avoiding the topic in front of her? Given their social circle, it was unlikely he knew nothing. But if he was deliberately avoiding the topic, it made her uncomfortable. Would you rather have a husband who never mentions your ex's name, or one who tells you that woman from your ex's family actually got married?
But after what her ex did yesterday, the chances of her husband still being nice to her were practically nonexistent. However, she couldn't be completely careless. After all, men are driven by their lower instincts; when they see big breasts and long legs, they lose their minds and it's not something that can be dismissed as an accident.
I didn't hear anything about my ex's motives from A-po, but the fact remains that he'll definitely make me uncomfortable. Given the current unfavorable public opinion and my husband's unwavering stance, taking the initiative might backfire. My ex won't just put on an act and leave; she won't give up until she wins. I'd rather sharpen my knife, pour myself some wine, and wait at the door for my girlfriends to come and make a scene. I'll throw a bottle down and shout, "Let's go have some fun!"

That evening, from the time my husband came home, ate dinner, and washed the dishes until we both sat down online, we chatted about yesterday. Suddenly, my husband said, "Honey, I want to show you something. I didn't want to show it to you because I was afraid you'd cause trouble, but if I didn't, you wouldn't know someone was coming to cause trouble..." I said, "Stop dawdling! Give me the thing
. "
My husband picked up his phone, scrolled through it, and then handed it to me.
It was a text message from my ex. After reading it, I checked the time it was sent—8:30 this morning, when my husband had already left but I was still asleep. This woman is really diligent; after putting on such a dramatic show yesterday, she still has the energy to get up so early today.
After reading it, I immediately forwarded the message to my phone and told my husband, "Save this message for me. I'll be furious if you delete it."
My husband nodded, "Honey, don't worry, I really don't care about her. You don't need to get angry because of her."
I said, "Okay, I know. You play your game. If she really has the ability to break us up, I'll first scratch her face, then castrate you, and then tattoo 'Incompetent Woman' all over my face!!"

I just got hungry, so I went to find some food.
Now I'll focus on gossiping. I'm typing out the text message my ex sent to my husband from my phone—she's an absolute genius.
My dear, I didn't sleep a wink last night. You were all I could see, whether my eyes were open or closed. Yesterday, the sight of you leaving with her reminded me of the past, how you would always hold my hand and walk so confidently. We can't go back. Is that right? When we broke up, you walked away just like that, without turning back to look at me, not even once. If you had turned back, you would have found that no matter how much time had passed, my gaze upon you was always filled with deep affection. The tears on my face weren't weakness, but reluctance—reluctance to lose someone who once loved me so much. My unreasonable behavior, my little tantrums, were all because when I looked at you, the person beside you wasn't me. Forgive me, I just loved you too much. I kissed you every day.
[Comment: "Metersbonwe, compared to my ex, Chai He Niu's writing is so crude! How can the poster here, painstakingly building this thread
, bear this?" "Guys, learn from her! Look at this, that's real writing! What black butt, thorny demon—can it compare to my ex's vivid and moving delivery?"]
"If you don't have the skills, how can you even attempt this 'technical and physical' job of stealing my husband?!"

The poster sat there looking at her ex's text messages on her phone, thinking, "This girl is really something. After yesterday's huge fight, she's acting like nothing happened and still clinging to my husband. And her technique is amazing! She casually described a carefully orchestrated scheme to mess with us as just being unreasonable. Her blatant jealousy was subtly and beautifully expressed as, 'My little temper is because the person next to you isn't me.'"

Faced with an opponent who's so outspoken, so accusatory, and so manipulative, the poster felt immense pressure…

After thinking for a while, she took back her husband's phone and replied to her ex. "When it comes to writing, I have Tianya (a Chinese online forum) as my textbook."

"Honey, I haven't eaten all day, and you've been my constant companion. Your heartfelt message today reminded me of the past, when you'd always be on your phone, chatting away. Things can't go back. Is that right?" When we broke up, you were just as flippant, not even glancing at me once, just like yesterday. If you had looked up, you would have realized that no matter how much time had passed, the person watching you was always visibly aggrieved. The tears on my face weren't from frustration, but from resentment—resentment that made me see through your acting skills. My storming out, my explosive temper, were all because looking at you, the tears on my face were fake, like I was relieving myself of constipation. I'm sorry, I'm just so annoyed by you. I feel disgusted by you every single day.

After sending the text message, I felt that just cursing her wouldn't solve the problem, so I sent another message: "
I'm constipated again today. Let's meet tomorrow.
We'll settle everything when we meet!!!"

I eagerly awaited my ex's challenge, but unfortunately, I didn't hear anything until bedtime. My husband solemnly turned off both our phones, grumbling that if he didn't let me sleep in peace, he'd dig me up and I'd be a pile of bones anyway.
The next morning, I turned on my phone and was bombarded with text messages, my hand numb from the vibrations. They were all from mobile messaging apps. One number dialed at 1:30 AM while the demons were out of their lairs; another dialed at 1:35 AM while the demons were hunting; another dialed at 2:30 AM while the demons were digesting; and yet another dialed at 4:30 AM while the demons were sleeping. From 1:30 AM to 4:30 AM, she called me countless times—she must be crazy. My ex's fighting spirit was truly admirable. Sacrificing her sleep, knowing my phone was off, she relentlessly tried to chat with me; knowing I was annoyed, she still wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk with me late at night. I was moved.
So I immediately called her back. It was only 9 AM, she'd only slept for a little over four hours, and I was full of energy with no eye bags. Why play the strategist when you're already full and the other is exhausted?

The call went unanswered, but the poster persisted, humming along to their ex's ringtone, "Missing someone is a pain that breathes, he lives in every corner of me..." Just as the tone was about to change, their ex answered.
Ex: Hello, who is this?
Her voice surprisingly wasn't sleepy at all; I could imagine the ex's excited reaction as she picked up her phone and saw it was my number.
LZ: Sister, are you serious? You called me all night and now you're asking who I am? You don't think you've been calling ghosts, do you?
Ex: Oh, what's up?
LZ: Nothing much. Didn't you want to treat me like a sister? Sisters have to eat and go shopping, right? Come out now, I'm waiting for you at [Café Name]. You'll be there in half an hour, right?
Ex: Half an hour?
LZ: I'm already out the door and in the car, hurry up!
(Hangs up)
Afterwards, the poster went to brush her teeth, wash her face, get dressed, eat, draw her eyebrows, put on eye makeup…
While eating breakfast, her husband called, "I saw the messages you sent to your ex using my phone yesterday. Honey, don't go looking for trouble alone. If you're going to cause any trouble, call me."
The poster responded with feigned gentleness, "You take care of building the house, I'll take care of cleaning. Go make some money and stop nagging me."
When I finally arrived at a certain coffee shop at 10:30 PM, listening to music, I couldn't find my ex anxiously waiting. Damn, she's just as unreliable as me.
I thought for a moment, then left the coffee shop and drove to the restaurant next door. Sitting in the car, I scanned the coffee shop entrance, waiting for over ten minutes before finally seeing my ex go in carrying a large red envelope. Another ten minutes passed before I finally drove up to the coffee shop.
I glanced inside and saw my ex sitting in the corner, looking like she was hiding something.
When I approached, she was looking down at her phone. I pulled out a chair and sat down, and she looked up, smiled, and said, "You're here."
I smiled back and said, "Sorry to keep you waiting, there was traffic."
The waiter, who had come with me, stood next to us waiting to take our order. Seeing us like this, she probably thought we were two best friends meeting up.
When ordering, I apologized profusely, saying, "You've been waiting so long and haven't even ordered yourself a drink. You've just been sitting here, making me feel bad. What do you usually drink? Or are you trying something new? Waiter, what are your specialties? Tell my girlfriends about them."
The waiter started rambling on, and my ex, looking impatient, casually ordered a mocha. I told the waiter, "Give me a Conpoy, I love that. I won't change my mind just because it's your specialty." Then I gave the waiter a forced smile. After
the waiter left, my ex gave me a very obvious eye roll. "Just get to the point," I said. "There's no point in beating around the bush."
I said, "You're funny. You're putting on an act even with a waiter around. Weren't you just smiling and saying 'You're here'? Now that there's no audience, you stop acting? No fun. Keep acting, I'm happy to watch."

The original poster (OP) and her ex had a pointless argument, going back and forth about who was more despicable. In this respect, I admire their composure; neither of them slammed their fists on the table first. They were both subtly agitated, their faces showing disdain as they launched their attacks, yet they managed to keep their voices down so as not to disturb the other elegant onlookers in the coffee shop.
But the OP wasn't there to argue with her, nor simply to embarrass her. She needed to know her place and make sure she completely disappeared from her and her husband's lives—that was the only acceptable outcome.
OP: Ex, I know you haven't had a good time these past two years. So what if you're divorced? With your looks, finding another rich guy wouldn't be difficult. If you're not good enough forty, you can easily find someone in their sixties.
Ex: I've tried rich guys. Now I want someone young and energetic. If he's broke, I'll support him!!!
OP: Huh? Didn't I hear you lost both your money and your girlfriend?
Ex: Even if I'm broke, I'm still richer than you.
LZ: You're something else, beautiful. You threw away love to pick up money, and now that you've got the money, you want to go back to love. How come all the good things happen to you? Let me tell you, your love is already in someone else's bed, completely devoted. You should take your money and start posting sugar daddy ads on [a certain street] (that street is full of bars and massage parlors).
Ex: Sure, I'll put up those ads on your door tomorrow!
LZ: Thank you for thinking so highly of my [boyfriend's name], but let me tell you first, he's not a good person. Have you forgotten how he hurt you before? Just because he's devoted to me now doesn't mean he'll treat you the same way. I don't want him to end up using all your money on me, then I'll feel bad.
At this point, the ex seemed to remember a painful past and remained silent, not responding to my words. After a few seconds, he suddenly raised his voice and said, "Why? Why hasn't he said anything about wanting to get married in two and a half years? Why did you two start dating as soon as I left?"
At this point, the original poster (OP) interjected, "Look what you said yourself, we started dating after you left (why did the OP say 'started dating'?), but my ex didn't listen to me at all, continuing to shout 'Why?' in an agitated tone. '
Why do I have to get a divorce just because I got married? Why are you all doing well after you got married? Why am I the only one clinging to the past? Why did he just walk away and ignore me? Why? Why…'
My ex's spittle was practically spraying onto my face. I stepped back and turned around, realizing that there were no other customers in the coffee shop. It was lunchtime…

Without onlookers, I felt less pressured. 'So, you were acting like this because you were upset. You got dumped and now you're unhappy seeing us doing well. Why? There aren't that many 'whys' in this world. It's just that God isn't your father, so you can't have whatever you want!'"
The original poster (OP) was extremely annoyed and desperately wanted to yell out the words above, but knew that if she argued with her now, the entire conversation would be wasted, and it would just be another farcical exchange of insults between the two women. Sigh, what can a simple-minded girl like her do? She'd try to reason with her, appealing to her emotions while also getting a bit verbally sparring.
OP: "Ex, keep your voice down, keep your voice down! It's not good for others to hear. You're having a hard time, so you go looking for trouble with others. People are thinking, what kind of person are you?"
Before OP could finish speaking, her ex started yelling again. This woman really won't act if there's no audience! You two get a divorce! You absolutely have to get a divorce! If you don't, I'll be miserable for the rest of my life! I'll make sure you two get a divorce before I die!
OP's hands were shaking so badly she wanted to throw coffee in her face. Why do people always want to throw things when they get agitated? What a terrible habit!
But the original poster (OP) remained rational and kind-hearted, thinking she should try one last time to see if her ex could be reasonable. OP said, "Ex, you really don't need to be like this. Everyone has their own happiness. Look ahead. You're young, beautiful, and have some money. Why insist on dwelling on those past messes? Even if we break up, you two won't be able to be together. Then I'll just have to come back and cause trouble for you. Why bother?
OP has done enough, hasn't she? Even after what she did, she didn't throw a tantrum, didn't hit her, and even tried to reason with her. You can see how sincerely OP wanted to resolve the situation.
But there are always people who don't appreciate kindness, only fawning over others after being offered a favor!

The ex completely ignored what OP was saying, just kept yelling, 'You stole my happiness! Go die! Go die!'... while reaching for her coffee."
Damn it, she splashed me even though I didn't throw it at her. But I knew this before I came; with her personality, she'd be dying of frustration if she didn't get revenge for that plate of food I threw at her. So, in a flash, I swiftly and decisively unleashed a powerful palm strike, smashing the coffee cup to the ground. Then, I immediately grabbed my own coffee cup and threw it at her.
Damn it, trying to outdo a woodcutter like that? Doesn't she know chopping wood is a skill? Speed, strength, and precision all have to be perfect.
The ex was probably furious. After being drenched in soup and coffee, even a chicken shouldn't be drenched like that! Did being "soaked to the bone" actually mean this? While wiping the coffee off her face, she muttered curses. What she was cursing didn't matter anymore, because I, at a much louder volume, pointed at her nose and told her, "You
bitch, you're so damn shameless! Were you a cursed ghost in your past life? You're unlucky to have been ruined, but you're blaming heaven and earth, and now you're blaming me! How can your dead father rest in peace seeing you like this? He gave birth to a daughter who only brings misfortune into the world. He should have dragged you down with him long ago so he wouldn't have wasted his sperm. I'm telling you today, if you fucking come and cause me any more trouble, I'll make you wish you were dead for life! How old is your mother? She can't even see her daughter properly! With your rotten, filthy appearance, how can your mother ever face your father again?"
The two of them talked a lot, and because they were so emotional, I can't remember every word. Wasn't it a bit unethical for the poster to drag her parents into the insults? Actually, I was trying to use her parents to warn her… Kid, wash your hands of this, behave yourself, and let your parents hold their heads high even in the afterlife.
She'd had her fill of venting, she'd vented her anger on her mother, and there was no point in continuing the argument. The poster, bag in hand, strode confidently out, even throwing a hundred yuan on the bar counter – after all, we couldn't let the coffee shop suffer.
At the door, she turned back and yelled, "You bitch, get out of my life now! If you show your face again, I'll throw a hot pot at you!!!"
She walked towards her car, locked it, and was a few steps from the door when suddenly, incoherent curses and a chilling, menacing aura came from behind her.

You know, the climax you've been craving has finally arrived.
It was a TVB drama about women before, now it's a CCTV-8 martial arts drama.
The poster turned around and saw her ex's hair sticky and blowing in the wind, her lips trembling, her chin resting on her large breasts, her mascara perfectly concealing her eye bags, her snot about to burst out, twisting her slender waist, and waving a huge red envelope as she charged towards the poster.
Sigh, the poster doesn't watch many martial arts dramas, so words fail her; she doesn't know how to describe her warrior-like image to live up to the poster's anticipation.
The poster was shocked, but it's okay, it's only temporary. Actually, at this crucial moment, the poster could have easily taken the initiative, rushed over and knocked her down first, to avoid accidentally getting hurt herself. But in a split second, the poster actually dodged, otherwise, if she accidentally seriously injured her, she could have acted later to avoid legal trouble.
The ex swung the huge red envelope at the poster's head; the poster stepped back to dodge, then quickly moved a few steps to the side. Damn it, don't damage my car later.
The big red envelope was thrown to the ground, and my ex came running at me again. I quickly and gently tossed the bag back to the car. Damn it, I didn't want it to fall apart and spill sanitary pads everywhere.
My ex rushed over and grabbed my hair, ready to slap me. I thought to myself, "Watch out, passersby, I'm a few seconds slower than her." I blocked her hand with my arm and grabbed her hair in return. With my other hand, I pinched her face. Slapping is the least effective way to fight; you can't exert any strength. Pinching is much more powerful. I wanted to give her a big, bruised face, red, black, and purple. I pulled her cheeks outwards, twisting them as I did so. My ex didn't hold back either, scratching my face with her other hand. I didn't care. You can't catch a wolf without risking your cub. If you want to gain an advantage, you have to be willing to suffer a loss. I didn't stop kicking her either, kicking her hard with my heel. My ex didn't expect me to be able to use both upper and lower body skills. She was at a disadvantage from below, so she kicked even harder with her hands. Anyone who's ever been in a fight knows that you don't feel the pain during a fight; you're so excited and focused on how to beat your opponent. So, even when my hair was being pulled, I didn't feel anything. I took a step back, created some space, and then unleashed my finishing move.

When people watch men fight, they usually just silently throw punches and kicks, maybe yelling things like, "I'll fuck your mother!" But scientists say women are multitasking creatures; they can watch TV, knit, and even take care of a child all at the same time. So, while my ex and I were exchanging blows, we weren't idle either.
My ex's main message was, "I'm going to fight you to the death! If I'm not happy, neither of you will be comfortable!" My
message was, "If I don't teach you a lesson, you won't take me seriously. You're trying to take advantage of me! I'll beat you so badly you can't even take care of yourself, then see how you dare to act like a jerk!"
People in the surrounding restaurants were all peering out the windows, and passersby were stopping to watch. How could I let them down? If it were too low-level, just two women pulling and scratching each other's hair, it would be too unsightly.
Okay, enough dawdling, here's my ultimate move.
I took a step back, creating some space, and then, with coordinated movements, pulled my ex's hair down, pressing her head down while raising my right knee.
Tap her! Tap her! Tap her until she's dizzy!
Southern friends, do you understand the meaning of "tap" in a fight? If not, go ask a Northern friend for an explanation, or imagine it based on my description.
In my mind, I could almost hear a male hawker whistling and shouting, "1, 2, 3, tap her! 1, 2, 3, tap her!" And then everyone was throwing confetti, screaming, "I'm awesome! I'm a real man! I'll kill her!" The poster smiled calmly and gracefully, waving to the audience and saying gently, "Thank you all for the compliments, I'm too humbled, too humbled..."
Okay, the poster stopped indulging in self-satisfied daydreams and got back to the point.
Has anyone been targeted before? I haven't been targeted, but I've seen people clearly become dizzy after being targeted. Although the poster's skills are not yet perfect, after being targeted, they gained the upper hand. Since targeting is so effective, why wait? Keep targeting! The poster pressed her head and slammed it against their knees twice (later, when they got on the bus, they realized their knees hurt from the slightest touch). Although every time she bent over, the poster's head ached from her hand gripping their hair, but who cared?
In the chaos, the ex must have been dizzy and weak, limply letting go. The poster was also exhausted, panting heavily, but still stubbornly refused to let go of her hair. I wanted to maintain my advantage! You were yelling that you'd die if you didn't break us up, well, I'll show you what it means to die if you dare to tear down the old!
These days, there are exes who do this for demolition compensation, not to become a mistress. It's true, a

big latrine can hold all sorts of shit! The poster, catching her breath, grabbed her hair and yelled, "You're so slim, aren't you? You're so busty, aren't you? You confidently said my husband would turn around the moment you opened your mouth?" The poster slapped her face twice more, then twisted her cheeks 180 degrees. "Where's your energy when you call my husband in the middle of the night, flirting like that? Where are all those men at the dinner table who sympathized with you? Aren't you pathetic? Trying to steal someone's partner with this weak body? Can't dig, can't fight back. You might as well just die already."
My ex was barely breathing, just weakly flailing her hands around on me like she was scratching an itch. My hand, which had been gripping her hair so tightly, was a little sore, so I let go. She immediately sat down on the ground. When she looked up, oh my god, her face was covered in snot and tears.
Damn it, men soften when they see your glistening tears, but I'm a pure woman, you think I'll just ignore you because you're crying? I glanced back at the crowd of onlookers, several layers deep. Sigh, the world is going to the dogs, people are so cold-hearted. My ex and I were fighting like this, and not a single person even bothered to pretend to break us up or call the police. They were all just sitting there with their arms crossed, eating sunflower seeds and watching the spectacle.
The original poster (OP) swallowed lightly, condescendingly lecturing their ex again: "Hey, E, what's the point of your nonsense? We broke up ages ago, why are you still trying to get back together? What the hell does our happiness have to do with your unhappiness? I was being polite to you at first, but you've been putting on an act and trying to pin this on me, so I'll throw some soup at you. You've been holding up a banner and yelling that you're here to interfere, so I'll throw some coffee at you. Are you out of your mind, or is Snow White's stepmother's mirror telling you you're the most beautiful woman in the world? Do you even know what shame is? Do you even know how to pronounce 'morality'? Come on, pronounce it for me, 'de'ao dao, de'e de, morality!!!'"
The onlookers, of course, understood what the OP was saying, chattering and pointing. I'm sure if any of the kind-hearted onlookers had a foot bath or a bucket of water nearby, they would have loved to splash it all over their ex.
The poster was cursing while simultaneously wary that she might sit down to rest and then suddenly jump up and ambush them. At that point, the poster was truly exasperated, at a loss for what to do. "I've reasoned with her, I've threatened her," the poster thought, "but the barefoot aren't afraid of those wearing shoes. She's like she's possessed, determined to torment us both. Am I really supposed to kill her to eliminate any future trouble? The poster cherishes freedom!"

The poster let out a long, heartfelt sigh, utterly helpless. Although the poster had won the fight, their hair was disheveled, their face was smeared, and their clothes were askew. Their appearance was definitely not presentable, and there might even be acquaintances among the onlookers. It wouldn't look good if word got out. Honestly, the poster had completely lost face because of her.
Seeing her sobbing and not saying a word, showing no intention of getting up, and putting on that pitiful act that men seemed to pity at the dinner table, I got so angry that I pinched her face hard again. She tried to block my arm, but I kicked her in the butt in anger, finally venting all the anger I'd been holding in for the past few days. I decided to end it here.
I wanted to show her I was tough and that she couldn't steal my boyfriend away, and also that my boyfriend was devoted to me, and even if he broke, she wouldn't let him go. So I called my husband.
My tone was calm: "Honey, I got into a fight with my ex."
He reacted like he'd exploded: "Are you okay? Are you okay? Where did you hurt yourself?"
I said, "Two women fighting can't hurt each other. Come over here, we're near [restaurant name]."
I think my husband knows I'm the type who'd rather give in and let things slide. Even when I'm shopping and encounter unreasonable vendors, I usually just tolerate it and let it go. But since I got into a fight with my ex, he must have really pushed me. He'd seen how infuriatingly threatening my ex was before, so without asking any questions, he just said, "Tell your ex not to leave either. I'm going to go over there and talk to her. What kind of nonsense is this?"
I looked back at the onlookers and said helplessly, "Let's all disperse for a bit. Go do what you were doing. We're not fighting anymore, it's over." Everyone laughed, saying, "That young lady is pretty agile!" I was amused too, and I said to the old man who had spoken, "It's all because of the mistress!"
Hmph, I'll nail your spit to the cross of shame! Even if you're not just a mistress in the conventional sense, I'll throw you into the hell of mistresses and make you the object of everyone's scorn!

When my ex heard that my husband was coming, she sobbed a couple more times. I looked at her; her hair looked like it had been set off by firecrackers, her face was a mess, her clothes were a jumbled mess, and her jeans were covered in shoe prints. What a load of crap! What a load of crap!
I went over, picked up my bag, and took out a mirror to look at myself. Aside from my disheveled hair and two red marks on my face, I was fine. I threw the bag in the car and started to fix my hair. Then I suddenly remembered something, let it all down, and then tugged at it a couple more times—it was a complete mess.
I squatted down and looked at my ex, saying, "When so-and-so comes, just give up. Don't pretend to be pitiful, and don't force any tears. He knows what you're like. Acting won't help. Even if you cry your eyes out, he won't feel sorry for you. Just honestly say you won't bother him again and leave. That way, you can salvage some of your image in his mind, so that after all this time together, he doesn't just see you and feel an itch in his heart."
My ex stared stubbornly into my eyes. In that instant, I suddenly realized that even the most shameless person has a vulnerable side, and even the strongest person has wounds they can't be touched. Of course, this was just a sudden reflection on life, not some saintly pang of conscience about my ex. With someone as persistent as her, if I didn't just beat her to a pulp and show her my unwavering resolve to eliminate the demolition crew and defend my status, what if one day she was feeling lonely and empty at midnight, rekindling her hope of seducing my husband? All my previous mental and physical efforts would have been for nothing.
I took my phone out of my coat pocket and waved it in front of her. "You can't act anymore, I've recorded it all. Acting will only humiliate you!" Actually, what was there to record? Did I really think I was acting on TV? When we met, I prepared a bunch of nasty things to say to humiliate her and make her back down. Did I really intend to record it and play it for everyone to see how sharp-tongued and useless I am? And I didn't expect her to be so arrogant, even shouting demolition slogans, so I wasn't prepared for that. But anyway, as long as I can intimidate her, that's enough.

My husband arrived, got out of the car, rushed over to stretch my arms, touched the red marks on my face, and then helped me with my hair. At that moment, I felt that everything was enough. Just like everyone says, the reason exes are better than mistresses is because husbands have different perspectives. Fighting a mistress is inherently a counterattack from the start. Looking at your husband's pathetic state, he has no will to fight. What's the point of winning? What's the point of getting her back? He's already betrayed you; winning only gives you a little more dignity. But fighting an ex is different. She's just testing the waters, there's no fait accompli yet, while you're fighting a defensive war. How can the feelings be the same? Thinking of your husband's unwavering gaze behind you, even a simple girl can become a warrior.
The climax has passed, so let's not rush the progress. Allow me to digress a bit. While most people think my husband is pretty good, a small minority feel he should clean up his own mess, and that he's the one who caused it.
As I said before, there are no perfect men. If it were someone with my personality, I would have preferred to remain single for life rather than settle for a random stranger. But this man, with his past bad reputation, his dishonest business dealings, and his inability to resist physical temptations when women threw themselves at him, told me when he was pursuing me, "I've seen it all. No one but you can hold me back. If I don't want to become a complete mess, I need to marry you." Maybe he's selfish, marrying me for his own good, but I also like his manly character—generous, easygoing, hot-tempered but reasonable, caring and attentive. In this man, I'm also searching for my own fantasies about the perfect partner.
What is love? It's nothing more than a morally superior fantasy. The man beside you, if he fits your imagination in any way, you magnify it infinitely, ignoring everything else, and then fantasize about him as the perfect version of yourself. You smile and tell the person waiting for your happiness or unhappiness, "I've found my love. From now on, I won't be alone for life, dying lonely." Love is really just that—it's pointless to dwell on gains and losses, highs and lows, the past and the future.

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