At 3 AM, I posted a cry for help on Rednote. Title: [Found out my husband spent a million dollars on TikTok, what should I do?] The post went viral quickly. Someone asked: [How much allowance does he give you every month? If not much, then you need to talk about it.] I replied: [Fifty thousand.] Unexpectedly, this number completely changed the atmosphere in the comments section: [Where can I find a job with a monthly salary of fifty thousand? You must keep this job!] [Be sweeter, ask for more money. Just treat yourself as a bank teller, and he is a living ATM.] [Suggest saying 'Husband, you're awesome' ten times a day. I dream of this million-dollar annual salary job.] 1 The phone screen glowed coldly in the dark, new comments popping up with every refresh: The teasing, envious, and advising comments from netizens pierced like knives. [Spending fifty or sixty thousand can get a small streamer out for dinner. Spending up to a million means they definitely slept together!] [Meeting up means at least a Chanel gift. My cousin's husband bought a Bulgari necklace worth 88,000 for his mistress.] [A million can buy a Porsche 718. Maybe the sports car is directly in her name.] I lay in bed, nails digging into my palms, eyes stinging. My mind was full of scenes of tearing the mistress apart and catching them in the act. But the remaining reason held me back firmly: If we tore faces, wouldn't the assets earned through hard work over these years be shared with that adulterous couple for nothing? At that time, netizens would not only watch the drama but might also scold me for being an old woman who deserved it! Not divorce? Only I would suffer grievance. He used our hard-earned savings to support a young girl outside! Turning to look at the person sleeping next to me, over forty, balding, and fat, a greasy middle-aged man. If it weren't for us starting a business together these years, where would he get the money to buy gifts for the streamer? My husband's name is George Zhou, my first love. I wasn't the very beautiful kind of girl. Before George, no one pursued me. When George pursued me back then, I appeared reserved on the surface but felt lucky inside, pretending to hesitate for only one night before agreeing. He wasn't handsome. I thought being uglier was safer and wouldn't attract attention outside. In the second year of marriage, we welcomed a lovely daughter and opened our own logistics company, successful in both career and family. I was very proud then. Who said marriage is the tomb of love? But who could have thought the slap in the face would come so suddenly. The happiness and fulfillment of these years now seem like a joke. With red eyes, I turned the bank statements and payment records upside down, but couldn't find out which vixen's pocket this over a million dollars went into. Strangely, his TikTok account was as clean as a newly registered one—let alone tipping records, even likes were flawless. Until I saw that comment, I felt struck by lightning: [Does your husband use a Huawei phone? Huawei has a dual system function. The two systems are completely independent—the apps and data of the main system and the private space are separate and invisible to each other. For example, if he installs TikTok and WeChat in the private space, you can't find them using the main system.] George indeed used a Huawei phone. Following the online tutorial, I tried to enter the private space of his phone. But failed. Without the password, I couldn't get in at all. All night, I had complete insomnia, constantly calculating... 2 Tossing and turning until dawn, I fell asleep in a daze. At noon, George called. Looking at the word "Husband" on the screen, I felt nauseous. Rubbed my face hard, took a deep breath before pressing the answer button— "Wifey, are you awake? Saw you sleeping soundly in the morning and didn't have the heart to wake you. I bought you a bag, put it in the car. I'll bring it back tonight." His voice was full of doting, acting very well. "Mm, just woke up. Thanks, hubby." I suppressed the nausea and responded. "Go tidy up, go out for a stroll, don't stay cooped up at home. Wait for me to come back for dinner tonight." "Okay, hubby." I hung up the phone, pulling a sneer at the corner of my mouth. Wait for you? Wait for you to finish fooling around with that female streamer? ... After getting up, I went straight to the underground garage. George has two cars, a luxury car and an ordinary one. He usually drives the ordinary car to work to keep up appearances, but definitely drives the luxury car for dates. I took down the dashcam and went home to check the recordings. He rarely goes on business trips, at most occasionally coming home late. From this point of view, that streamer is eighty percent local—otherwise how could he be on call anytime? If a man doesn't want something, why would he buy gifts for a streamer? Is it pure love? Not meeting but having spiritual intercourse? I dug out all the times George said he had "social engagements" in the past three months, sitting in front of the computer checking one by one. Every time he came home late, he would message me. Now these records have all become clues for my investigation. Sure enough, I found it. Several times they couldn't wait as soon as they met, hugging and being intimate right by the car. The other party was like a rose with morning dew, skin so translucent water could be pinched out, waist so thin he could circle it with one hand. George, that old man, leaned over with his beer belly, his oily mouth kissing her smooth face, really like a perfumed lily suddenly stuck in a pile of rotten vegetable leaves in the market. The dashcam surveillance video is saved for three months. In this three-month period, I found six videos of them hugging and gnawing. I copied those videos. Everything needs evidence. Even if divorcing, even if going to court, whoever claims must provide evidence. I need to have evidence. 3 In the evening, George came back. Carrying my favorite cake in one hand and a new bag in the other. "Wifey, the cake shop has a new product, your favorite blueberry flavor. Taste if it's good, I'll buy it for you again tomorrow if it is. This bag was recommended by a colleague. Although not your favorite brand, I think it looks good." His tone was gentle, full of doting. If I hadn't seen him hugging another woman with my own eyes, I might have foolishly thought I really married a considerate good man. "Thanks, hubby." I was all smiles. His acting skills are superb, and mine are not bad either. "Come quickly, let's eat. I made your favorite spicy snails today." I served the food and called George to eat. "Wow, smells so good, thanks wifey." Watching George sucking snails with satisfaction, I served him another bowl of soup, "This is what I specially bought from the market. The boss said it's wild soft-shelled turtle, very fresh and high nutritional value." George nodded while eating, "Soft-shelled turtle is indeed very nourishing." I pulled the corner of my mouth lightly, thinking secretly: "Indeed very nourishing, even more nourishing eating with snails. Nourishing enough to cause spleen and stomach deficiency cold." ... Before going to bed, I handed the milk with sleeping pills to George. When he was sound asleep, I unlocked the phone's private space with his fingerprint. Sure enough, the more than one million he recharged was all tipped to a female streamer named "Cici doesn't eat coriander"—the girl hugging him in front of the car. WeChat chat records were even more spectacular: "New lingerie arrived, hee hee hee, you have to be gentle tomorrow." "Can't tear it like last time yo!" Attached picture was the girl's mirror selfie. She wore white lace lingerie, blocking her face with the phone, arms squeezing her chest, faintly visible. George replied with a drooling emoji: "Baby is so sexy. Buy ten of this style, let hubby tear slowly." Then transferred 18,888, remarking "Voluntary Gift". I sneered, photographing and saving all evidence. "Voluntary Gift?" Ridiculous, this is our joint marital property. George giving me 50,000 a month for household expenses made netizens on Rednote switch sides, but he gave Cici 18,888 at once. Clicking on Cici's Moments, the latest one was posted last night: In the nine-grid photos, the first one was a candlelight dinner at a high-end restaurant, decanted red wine on the table, captioned "Thanks dear for the anniversary gift~". The middle ones were her selfies in the mirror, wearing a new dress from a luxury brand; The last one was two hands with fingers interlocked. She wore a brand new Cartier bracelet on her slender wrist. I recognized the man's hand at a glance, after all, he was still wearing our wedding ring on his ring finger. In the comments section, George's account left a message: "Glad baby likes it", followed by three hearts. I stared at the phone screen, fingers tightening unconsciously. This pair of adulterers, happy and free with my money, daring to show affection so blatantly. Cici also has a red 718, soft top convertible. In the photo, her pair of long legs leaned against the front of the car, pleasing to the eye. Half of the money for this car is mine. Every penny George tipped her, half is mine. Those "Voluntary Gift" transfers, half are mine too. At this point, can I still turn the tables? I think... I can. 4 I asked a friend for help. This guy always loves to show off at the drinking table, saying he is some "TikTok level 73 big shot". However, he opened a high-end business KTV locally, just able to get what I need. I went directly to my friend's business KTV club. Pushing open the VIP room door, a row of male waiters stood inside. "Just these?" I frowned looking at this group of people in front of me, either too greasy or too green. My friend smiled with a cigarette in his mouth: "Sis, these are all the signatures of our shop." "Signature?" I sneered, tapping the wine glass lightly with my finger, "I want someone who can hook a gold-digging female streamer." My friend's eyes lit up, took out his phone and swiped a few times: "Should have said so earlier! We really have a top card here, just back from Shanghai, specializing in female streamer circles." He handed over the phone. On the screen was a young man with silver-dyed hair, features exquisite like a mixed-race model, English tattooed on his collarbone, wild and desirable. "Him." I put the wine glass on the table, "Tell him, as long as he can make that woman take the bait, the commission doubles." My friend grinned: "Sis, you're playing a big game?" I stared at the intimate photos of George and Cici on the phone, nails unconsciously digging into my palm: "They show affection with my money, I'll let them know what retribution means." My friend's voice suddenly dropped, "Are you sure?" Immediately after, he leaned into my ear and said seriously: "He has an STD." I curled my lips and chuckled, "That's great." This trip wasn't in vain. When leaving, I asked my friend: "Besides Taobao, where can I buy a listening device immediately? The kind I can take right away." He told me the electronics city sells them and gave me a store name. I thanked him and turned to leave. He suddenly stopped me: "Joy Qiao, reminding you, eavesdropping is illegal. Evidence obtained this way won't be recognized by the court." "I know, the 'Public Security Administration Punishments Law' stipulates that eavesdropping on others' privacy is punishable by detention for 5 to 10 days and a fine of 500." My friend laughed: "You know quite a lot." "Don't worry," I stopped, "I won't spread it, nor will I be stupid enough to use it as evidence. I just want to see how disgusting George can be. Besides—" I hooked the corner of my mouth, "Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated."
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