Li Guanjia looked a bit puzzled. “Yesterday was mutton stewed with sea horse.”
Zhuang Qiting: “…………….”
“And the day before?” His tone was flat.
Li Guanjia finally realized something was off. Hesitating for a moment, unsure of his master’s intentions, he said in a small voice, “…The day before was Dragon Phoenix Soup, stewed with snake meat and black-bone chicken.”
Very good, excellent, truly excellent! Who was the old busybody trying to stuff him with so many tonics?
Zhuang Qiting put down his chopsticks, rubbed his brow, and glanced at the Housekeeper who’d served him for decades. “Li, do you think I’m seventy or eighty, that I need to drink these tonics every day?”
Li Guanjia blushed, lowering his head innocently. He just wanted to help Mr. regain his vigor and win back Madam’s heart!
Zhuang Qiting snorted. “Enough. Don’t take it upon yourself anymore. I’m not that old!”
The Housekeeper nodded repeatedly. “Yes, yes, sir is in his prime— full of energy and at the peak of your life!”
After several days of tonic soup with no outlet for it, Zhuang Qiting felt he could barely take it anymore— too hot, too irritable, too agitated.
His whole body was stiff, heart racing, blood surging. There was not a single part of him that felt comfortable.
At eight in the evening, he swam laps in the pool for nearly forty minutes. Li Guanjia was getting anxious, wanting him to take a break— he couldn’t just keep exercising endlessly, it was bad for his health.
Li Yaru still hadn’t come home. He knew she’d gone to her family’s for dinner; he still had a clear grasp of her whereabouts.
Of course, he also knew she’d sent someone to bail out that brat, and had commissioned an agent to find her a house.
At one in the morning, Li Yaru’s car finally appeared outside the iron gate. It was a brand new grape-purple Bently she’d picked up last week.
She no longer drove the cars Zhuang Qiting had given her, so a whole fleet of luxury and sports cars were gathering dust in the garage.
“Hurry! Get a few more people out here— Madam’s drunk!” Ada got out of the car first, rushing into the villa to call for help.
The quiet Zhuang Residence instantly lit up. The on-duty staff swarmed out, scrambling to carry the drunken Madam out of the car.
The commotion quickly reached Zhuang Qiting. He hurried downstairs, and from a distance saw his wife, limp and flushed, draped over the servants, her eyes unfocused.
He strode over, took Li Yaru from them, and carried her in his arms. His sharp gaze swept over Ada. “What happened?”
Ada shivered and quickly explained, “Sir, Madam was drinking with her cousins at her family’s place. Then they danced and played games, got a bit too happy and drank too much.”
Zhuang Qiting said coldly, “Useless. Couldn’t even stop a few drinks.”
Ada didn’t dare breathe.
“Mm…” The woman in his arms frowned, her whole body feeling like it was burning up. She twisted and mumbled, “Who… why so fierce…”
Zhuang Qiting soothed her in a low voice. “Not being fierce with you, darling.”
Li Yaru’s lips moved as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t, then she quieted down, rubbing her head against his chest.
A familiar embrace, a familiar scent— whether she liked it or not, it always made her feel safe.
Zhuang Qiting smiled, satisfied. Deep down, she was still his wife, and would never truly reject him. This was the mark he’d left on her over twenty years— not something a divorce decree could erase.
“When the sobering soup is ready, bring it to Madam’s bedroom. The rest of you, leave.”
Zhuang Qiting carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed, covering her with the blanket. They’d been sleeping in separate rooms lately— Li Yaru still in the master bedroom, while he’d been forced into the guest room next door.
Li Yaru was limp as mud, tossing about on the bed, kicking off the covers, frowning in discomfort.
“Water…”
Zhuang Qiting propped her up and brought the straw to her lips. “There’s Rose Honey in it.”
Li Yaru took a big sip, and some honey water trickled down her lips. Zhuang Qiting stared for a few seconds, his breath deepening. He leaned in and swept it up with his tongue.
Li Yaru let out a soft whimper, her lips tingling, unaware she’d been taken advantage of.
Zhuang Qiting savored the lingering sweetness on his tongue. The taste wasn’t strong, just a faint hint, like scratching an itch through a boot— teasing his taste buds.
Honestly, he was hungry. Very hungry. Extremely hungry.
It had been nearly a month since he’d kissed her— unthinkable before. He’d never restrained himself with Li Yaru.
Before they married, he’d told her his needs were high and hoped she’d be accommodating. Luckily, she enjoyed it too. They were perfectly matched.
He never thought that, at this age, he’d be playing childish divorce games with his wife, forcing himself to look but not touch.
“Are you really so happy to divorce me?” Zhuang Qiting’s voice was low, his thumb tracing her flushed cheek. “So happy you got drunk.”
“You never listen, you know. Stopping you from drinking too much is for your own good. Heartless little thing, this time I’ll make sure you learn your lesson.”
“Let’s see how long you can stay happy.”
He pinched her nose.
Li Yaru couldn’t help but hum, mumbling, “…So hot.” She started tugging at her expensive organza blouse.
Zhuang Qiting caught her hand. “Don’t move, let me.”
His long, cool fingers deftly undid the tiny buttons. “Sit up, left hand, right hand… You’re so obedient when you’re drunk. If only you were this well-behaved all the time, I wouldn’t have to send people to watch you.”
He sighed. At this point, there was nothing more to say. He didn’t regret it. The only thing he regretted in his life was not dealing with that brat Zuo earlier.
He was confident—give it half a year, at most a year, and this divorce storm would blow over.
The blouse was nearly see-through, with only a silk camisole underneath. The thin fabric drifted to the carpet like a feather, revealing porcelain skin tinted with a faint blush.
The first time Zhuang Qiting saw Li Yaru, he thought she was made for him— so perfectly suited, from her hands to her feet, even her hair.
Everything about her drove his blood wild, his possessiveness flaring uncontrollably.
Before meeting Li Yaru, every other woman seemed dull and uninteresting to him—be they hot actresses or famed socialites.
The bedroom was dim, the air sweet with fragrance. The woman on the bed slept unaware, oblivious to the hungry gaze devouring her.
Zhuang Qiting’s breathing slowed, his eyes deep as a pool. He’d managed to restrain himself before, but after several days of tonic soup, his blood was in chaos.
Of all days, his wife had to get drunk tonight…
He swallowed, no longer hesitating. He cupped her chin and kissed her petal-like lips.
Li Yaru was completely unaware of what was happening, her breathing even, sleeping soundly.
“Good girl… I’m just going to kiss you,” Zhuang Qiting coaxed softly, holding her wrist, straightening her curled fingers and pressing her palm.
“Do you miss your husband? Your husband misses you so much.”
“Be good, okay?”
His low command was full of longing, his usually stern face slightly twisted.
He was, after all, Chairman of Shenghui Group, the undisputed legend of Hong Kong Island, always the center of attention.
Yet here he was, sneaking around with his wife, and he didn’t feel ashamed at all.
He didn’t think there was anything wrong with it—morality wasn’t meant to bind men like him.
He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, even her trembling eyelashes and the frown on her brow. A sense of fulfillment rose in his heart.
Normally, she’d never be so docile—she’d complain it looked ugly, even nitpick the color. She’d look at him with her big, watery eyes and say, “I like pink better!”
He was always both angry and helpless with her.
She’d been his since she was nineteen, yet she talked as if she’d seen many men.
She was really something— after a month, she still hadn’t begged for mercy. He wondered how she’d managed.
Zhuang Qiting knew his wife well. She was the embodiment of beauty and greed— wild and mischievous in her youth, always complaining he wanted too much, yet she truly enjoyed it.
Only after he’d kissed her enough did Zhuang Qiting finally let out a long breath, the ache in his chest easing a little.
He reached for the tissues in the second drawer of the bedside table, fumbling in the dim light. Instead of finding wet wipes, his hand brushed against something oddly shaped— like a toy.
He frowned and switched on the bedside lamp. The object came into view.
It was a toy, carefully hidden, in a soft color— and full of all sorts of high-tech features!
“…………………”