Li Yaru refused to return to Hong Kong Island, so Zhuang Qiting accompanied her to the vast East African savannah, spending each day either watching lions and leopards groom themselves or observing wildebeests and zebras give birth, with a persistent little fox circling around Li Yaru.
This little fox seemed oblivious— whether genuinely or feigning innocence was unclear— never knowing when to back off or read the room.
Zhuang Qiting’s disdain and disgust were almost written all over his face, yet Kurt seemed to enjoy hovering around, chiming in with this and that.
The sun was fierce today, so everyone stayed at the hotel, leisurely passing the time.
Li Yaru avoided going out to avoid running into Zhuang Qiting; she ordered room service for lunch and spent the afternoon swimming in the private pool attached to her room.
Zhuang Qiting, meanwhile, went to the hotel’s cliffside restaurant, brewed a pot of Pu’er tea, paired it with two low-calorie biscuits, and sat quietly for a long time, gazing over the boundless grasslands.
His wife knew how to choose the perfect place; this spot truly brought tranquility, and sitting here all afternoon would never feel dull.
Zhuang Qiting’s life rarely offered such moments of emptiness—no towering buildings, no glamorous crowds, no following and leading, no endless running around.
This place was ideal for him to contemplate his next move.
He was never one to wallow in self-pity or brood over fleeting emotions; he was always strong and relentless, with an unyielding will to conquer.
To him, there was no problem in this world that couldn’t be solved, no person he couldn’t handle.
His wife was simply angry now; the things she said were just words born from frustration. He must not lose his composure.
His precious treasure was deliberately provoking him, thinking it would make him disheartened and allow her to act as she pleased.
She was seriously miscalculating. Not only was he far from discouraged, he didn’t even want to play hard to get anymore. He had already sent people to appeal and withdraw the divorce petition.
Thinking this, Zhuang Qiting slowly took a sip of the rich Pu’er tea, bitterness lingering on his tongue before fading into a sweet aftertaste.
At the same time, Kurt hummed a tune as he entered the restaurant, spotting the goddess’s ex-husband sitting alone on the cliff terrace.
He ordered a mocha and cheerfully greeted, “Hi, Mr. Zhuang!” Pulling out a chair, he plopped down casually. After days of joint events, he and the goddess’s ex were practically acquaintances.
Zhuang Qiting didn’t respond, his face blank. Sitting with such a scruffy fool was beneath him and an insult to his status.
Kurt’s warm enthusiasm met cold indifference. He shrugged and fell silent, though he had no intention of changing seats.
The waiter soon brought him a hot mocha; after taking a sip, he curiously glanced at the delicate teacup beside Zhuang Qiting. “What are you drinking? Hot Americano?”
“Pu’er.”
“Pu’er? What’s that?”
Zhuang Qiting glanced coldly, “Chinese tea.”
“Oh, I get it. So this is the tea Eleanor said tastes worse than Americano. She said in China it’s popular among older men.”
Zhuang Qiting inhaled deeply, pressing his fingers against the exquisite Yuli Red Master Cup worth three hundred thousand yuan, smiling faintly, “She really likes joking with you.”
“Of course, we’re good friends.” Kurt’s clear blue eyes shimmered softly as he spoke.
Disgusted by this repulsive man’s attitude, Zhuang Qiting turned his face away toward the wilderness. The sunlight hit his honey-colored forearm, veins visible like slow-crawling snakes.
He suddenly said casually, “She’s not someone you can covet. Stop bothering her—it’s better for both you and her.”
Kurt was indifferent. He didn’t understand why, even after a divorce, Zhuang insisted on such possessiveness over his ex-wife.
To Kurt, it was immoral and despicable. “You divorced her. You have no right to interfere in her life or stop her from making friends.”
A cold smile curved Zhuang Qiting’s lips, his tone grave, “How do you know we’re divorced? You take a woman’s angry words seriously? So, you want to seduce a married woman and be the third party in someone’s marriage?”
Kurt was stunned, waving his hands quickly. “No, no. I just want to admire her quietly and make her happy. I know I’m not worthy of the goddess…” Suddenly, he shifted tone, looking at Zhuang Qiting with displeasure. “Honestly, you’re not worthy of her either.”
“She’s the most vibrant woman I’ve ever met. She needs a partner full of energy who truly understands her. You’re more than ten years older than her. You both have a generation gap.”
For a brief moment, Zhuang Qiting wished he were one of the animals on this African savannah— lion, leopard, or snake— primitive, brutal, fierce, able to tear apart everything hateful without worrying about manners or status.
“Do you know how old she is, kid?” Zhuang Qiting’s face darkened.
“Twenty-five,” Kurt answered confidently.
“And me?” Zhuang Qiting squinted.
“Thirty-five, no, thirty-seven or thirty-eight,” Kurt exaggerated.
After a few seconds of silence, Zhuang Qiting suddenly laughed heartily, stood up, and gently patted Kurt’s shoulder, “Kid, you’re lucky. I’ll go easy on you.”
Kurt was puzzled, looking at the tall, upright man with curiosity.
The next day, a drizzle fell, and a seven-colored rainbow appeared on the horizon.
At noon, Li Yaru finally appeared before everyone, dressed in a fresh yellow silk dress, blooming like a flower.
Lunch was set at the cliffside restaurant. The chef Zhuang Qiting brought from Hong Kong Island showcased his skills with a new surprise every day.
Today, in the empty savannah, he prepared a full Sichuan meal, with a hotpot bubbling with spicy red oil.
The ingredients had been flown in early that morning from Europe, astonishing a group of local people.
The woman arrived, trailing a fragrant breeze, attracting everyone’s gaze. Zhuang Qiting’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes filled with deep infatuation.
He just wanted to lock her away, not letting anyone else see her.
“Good afternoon, Arou,” Zhuang Qiting greeted warmly.
Li Yaru glanced at him indifferently. The waiter pulled out her chair, and she sat down. “Still here? You’ve been pretty idle lately. Didn’t you say you’d work hard until sixty and never retire?”
Zhuang Qiting leisurely dipped fresh pea shoots into the clear broth, “I’ve handed over work to our son to give him more experience. I get a few days off.”
Li Yaru inwardly wished she could slap herself. She’d planned to treat him like air and not engage with him, but every time she saw his composed and leisurely attitude, she couldn’t help but make sarcastic remarks— and once he responded, she couldn’t stop.
“Azhou and you have some grudge? You treat him like this? Why don’t you just wear him out, then find a new wife and have a new son to inherit your throne?”
Being the heir to Shenghui Group sounded glamorous, but in reality, it was just a high-level worker, working like a dog every day with no personal life. One could say his entire existence was sold to the group.
Zhuang Qiting paid no mind, used to her nonsense, only looking at her gently. “Our son is just contributing to the harmony of his parents’ marriage. Isn’t that what he should do?”
Li Yaru smirked, “Then rest assured, Mr. Zhuang, with our divorce, Azhou is probably the first to cheer, celebrating his mommy’s liberation and rebirth.”
“If he dares,” Zhuang Qiting said flatly as he picked some boiled pea shoots onto Li Yaru’s plate. “I’ll break his legs.”
Li Yaru frowned, feeling this man was becoming more and more unreasonable, full of domineering threats.
Just then, Kurt arrived, and Li Yaru immediately put down her chopsticks, warmly inviting him, “Kurt, come join our hotpot.”
Kurt’s face, clouded with worry, brightened slightly at seeing the goddess.
He quickly approached Li Yaru, eyes full of apology. “Eleanor, sorry, I can’t have lunch with you. I came to say goodbye. I’ve booked a flight back to China this afternoon.”
“Goodbye?” Li Yaru was puzzled. They had plans to ride a hot air balloon this afternoon. “In such a hurry? Did something happen?”
Kurt sighed. “There’s some trouble with my art exhibition. The gallery urgently asked me to return. I don’t know if it will succeed… Ah, no more unhappy talk. Eleanor, I’m glad to have met you. You’ll always be my Muse Goddess.” He pulled a memory card from his pocket. “This is a backup of all the photos I took here in Africa. A gift for you to remember me by.”
Li Yaru took the card and instinctively glanced at Zhuang Qiting across the table. The man calmly sipped his hot tea, steam blurring his sharp, deep features.
“Alright then. Safe travels, and may everything go smoothly when you return,” Li Yaru smiled generously at Kurt. “Thank you for being my unpaid photographer these days. I haven’t even given you a gift.”
Kurt laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve treated me to all kinds of delicious food every day. I’ve made out well.” More importantly, he had gained unprecedented inspiration from Li Yaru and was already envisioning his first portrait.
“Can I hug you before I go, Eleanor?” Kurt mustered the courage to say, his gaze growing shy and sincere, pure as if looking at a goddess descending to earth.
He didn’t know when they would meet again. Maybe never. Deep down, Kurt sensed this, and the premonition filled him with sadness.
Only then did Zhuang Qiting glance coldly up, tightening his chopsticks.
A piece of raw fish slipped into the boiling spicy broth as he looked at Li Yaru.