At dusk, the banks of the Huangpu River were more enchanting than the blazing daylight, both in scenery and in temperature.
Rows of skyscrapers shimmered gold beneath the evening glow, the river sparkled, and a humid, gentle breeze wafted through the air.
Reberi’s centennial showcase had concluded perfectly, and by nightfall, the mood at the banquet was much more lively and relaxed.
The spacious viewing terrace had been decorated into a dreamy spectacle by the staff, still in Reberi’s iconic deep blue.
There was live saxophone and violin music, red wine mingling with perfume, swirling skirts, and dazzling jewels.
Li Yaru, who usually loved this kind of extravagant atmosphere, found herself a little distracted tonight.
For once, Zhuang Qiting wasn’t by her side— he’d simply let her have her own fun, sending only a message that was both threatening and tempting: [Baby, 8:30, Tanxiang Villa in the western suburbs. Don’t drink too much at the banquet, I’ve opened a better bottle and will wait for you.]
Li Yaru gripped her red wine glass, her legs suddenly weak. Did he have to go through all this trouble… She’d thought they’d spend tonight at the hotel.
Five years ago, Zhuang Qiting had spent 180 million to buy this Tangong as her birthday present. Even now, its market price had risen to 600 million.
When they divorced, Zhuang Qiting threatened her, demanding she hand over all the properties given by the Zhuang Family, but in truth, it was just an empty threat.
Except for the property on Hong Kong Island, whether overseas or in the mainland, Zhuang Qiting hadn’t reclaimed any— he’d left everything to her.
It was only her own sense of discomfort, remembering what he’d said about ‘pampered wife and young children’, that made her resent the man and, by extension, every house he’d ever given her, wherever it was.
She refused to step foot in any of them.
Counting this, it had been five years since she’d set foot in this villa, but she remembered clearly how many wild, reckless times they’d had inside.
Absolutely nerve-wracking.
Li Yaru could never understand it.
Other men usually lost their drive after thirty-five, but Zhuang Qiting was over fifty, and yet somehow he was just as greedy every night as ever—as if he had endless desire, endless passion.
Sometimes Li Yaru even suspected Zhuang Qiting was secretly taking… some not-so-decent medicine.
Taking a deep breath, she took a big gulp of red wine to suppress the restlessness inside her.
There were plenty of entertainments at the banquet— dancing, drinking, socializing, celebrity performances, and even a famous Magic Master from within the country, performing a thrilling “Priceless Jewel Disappearance”.
Even if her mind wasn’t entirely in it, Li Yaru found herself having a pretty good time.
The only thing that puzzled her was her daughter-in-law’s gloomy expression; even Awen’s precious daughter, Yi Siling, looked unhappy.
She wondered if the two girls were quarreling.
But then again, the two girls kept whispering and gossiping together, making it impossible to tell what kind of newfangled sisterly affection this was.
Li Yaru smiled and didn’t disturb them, continuing to enjoy herself.
Barely five minutes later, she saw Chen Weiqi hurrying toward the exit, followed closely by a tall, handsome young man.
That young man had broad shoulders and long legs, a striking figure, though dressed very simply—no different from any of the public relations boys in the crowd.
Yet, his imposing, spirited presence set him apart from everyone else.
Li Yaru narrowed her eyes, watching the scene from afar, then suddenly laughed meaningfully.
This brat is even better at pretending than his father.
Just last night, she’d asked him on WhatsApp if he was in Hu Cheng, and he’d stubbornly insisted—swearing up and down—that there was no way he’d come.
Well, well, isn’t he right here? Her own son, and even if he dressed as a dog, she’d still recognize him!
Li Yaru thought, ah, to be young is good.
Young people in love, all that awkwardness and unspoken affection—they had such a special charm.
Unlike her and Zhuang Qiting back then: never once had a proper romance, it was always him controlling or restraining her, and before she’d tasted enough of life’s sweet and sour, they’d muddle-headedly married and had children.
Now, at over forty-five, she was finally getting the hang of romance, and saying such things wasn’t even embarrassing anymore.
A soft smile appeared on Li Yaru’s lips.
At eight o’clock, the banquet reached its climax. With flushed cheeks, Li Yaru, amid a wave of energetic singing and dancing, lifted her skirt and discreetly slipped away from this world of splendor.
A luxury minivan waited quietly at the east-side exit of the building.
Once Li Yaru got in, the door automatically closed, the vehicle ready to set off toward the western suburbs.
A bouquet of beautifully wrapped roses sat on the back seat—sweet, romantic, pink as if bubbling with little clouds, just the kind little girls loved.
Across the center lay a gorgeous diamond necklace, also with a pink main stone, and of a large carat.
This whole coaxing-little-girls routine made Li Yaru’s heart pound. This man! Where did he come up with so many tricks day in and day out!
Li Yaru took off the necklace she was wearing and replaced it with the new pink one.
The journey was smooth and unimpeded, and soon they entered the villa grounds.
Night had settled in here; even the grandest parties had their pockets of tranquility.
Holding the flowers, Li Yaru entered the password, and the front door unlocked.
All her properties used the same entry code—easy to remember, hard to guess.
The lights were blazing, as bright as daylight, but there was not a soul inside.
Li Yaru’s high heels clacked crisply against the marble floor, the huge crystal chandelier overhead lighting her up in glittering brilliance.
She hadn’t set foot here in five years. The further she went in, the redder her face became, and the more unsteady her heartbeat.
“Zhuang Qiting? Where are you?” she called, not wanting to shout for someone in such a lavish living room.
No answer. She could only head upstairs, into the corridor leading to the master bedroom.
Suddenly, the air around her shifted—a searing heat encircled her from behind.
“You—! You scared me!” Li Yaru turned in complaint, glaring at Zhuang Qiting.
Zhuang Qiting didn’t let go, wrapping her tight, his broad shoulders completely enveloping her slender frame. “You’re three minutes late, Miss Li.”
Li Yaru’s eyes shimmered, but her words were sharp as ever. “You said yourself, I’m only here to give you a hard time.”
Zhuang Qiting let out a mocking laugh, lowering his head to bite her neck, then simply picked her up in his arms. Li Yaru kicked and struggled like a child, laughing and begging him to let go. He carried her to the bedroom door, nudged open the half-closed door with his shoulder, and the two of them tumbled onto the sofa, breathless.
She was still wearing her evening gown, a rich red gauze that veiled her fair legs in glimpses.
Zhuang Qiting clasped the back of her head and hungrily kissed her lips. Lipstick smeared across both their mouths, his hands gliding along her legs beneath the red gauze.
His fingers were long, but neither slender nor pale, not delicate, but with cold, hard knuckles—powerful, flexible. While kissing, he undid the strap of Li Yaru’s sandal, then slid his hand up to the zipper hidden in her red dress.
“Hey, go easy, it’s expensive…” Li Yaru gasped under his kisses, swatting at his hands.
Zhuang Qiting found the zipper on her back, moving gently, as if unwrapping a rose.
The gown bloomed open like petals beside her; the thinly-padded cups trembled slightly until he suddenly grasped them.
Li Yaru let out a soft moan, refusing to look at him, muttering under her breath, “This man…”
“I’ll carry you to the bathroom. Together,” Zhuang Qiting whispered, kissing her earlobe.
It was hardly a request. No sooner had he spoken than he picked up the naked Li Yaru and carried her away.
The master bathroom had been cleverly remodeled during the renovations, knocking down a wall to combine it with the next room, making it shockingly spacious.
Warm water was already flowing overhead, and Li Yaru shivered as it rained down on her.
The man behind her had somehow already shed his shirt and suit, embracing her with his bare, sturdy chest.
This kind of unfiltered embrace was entirely different—skin on skin, their scents mingling as one.
Li Yaru thought of pushing him away and showering alone, but she had no strength left.
She let him half-hold her, letting him wash her at will.
Zhuang Qiting took Li Yaru’s hand, pressed a few pumps of body wash into her palm, his breath mixing with the steam, sultry and damp. “Help me, baby.”
Li Yaru instantly understood, quickly smearing the body wash on his shoulders. “No, no—you wish—”
No way. She spent at least tens of thousands a year just on her manicures.
Her meticulously cared-for fingers, delicate as jade, weren’t for serving such a thing. He sure could dream.
Zhuang Qiting gritted his teeth in frustration. “Then I won’t wash.”
“Dirty boys get nothing, so don’t even think about it.”
“……………”
It wasn’t the first time Zhuang Qiting had been accused of being dirty, and his breath became labored in the hot mist.
He’d been a clean freak since childhood, maintaining absolute purity in matters of intimacy—he couldn’t stand even looking at something filthy.
Li Yaru’s face was soft and pink, her beautiful eyes glaring at him. Zhuang Qiting finally surrendered, “Fine, I’ll wash myself.”
Right in front of Li Yaru, he pumped body wash three times into his palm, his intimidating gaze locking onto her.
The foam quickly bubbled up in his hand, and though the dark red was hidden inside, it still peeked through.
He didn’t seem to care at all, his expression calm, his eyes burning like a beast about to devour its prey.
Li Yaru gaped at the scene, dumbstruck. “You—turn around!”
Her hand brushed his solid chest, then instantly shrank back.
“You pervert, have some shame!” Li Yaru gritted her teeth.
Zhuang Qiting stubbornly refused to turn, and Li Yaru had to turn herself away.
Though his body was flawless, she still felt her eyes would go blind, her cheeks burning red.
Zhuang Qiting wouldn’t let her off, embracing her from behind.
His firm chest pressed against her back, his hand forming a half-circle, occasionally bumping into her waist.
The heat made Li Yaru jump. She tried to run, but couldn’t escape his grip. “Ahhh—pervert!!”
Zhuang Qiting bit her earlobe. “Perfect, you’re my little thing. We’re a perfect match.”
For a while, the bathroom was lively, the two of them a tangled mess, eyes blurred with water, unable to open.
Eventually, they made it to the bedroom, both still steaming with heat that wouldn’t dissipate.
Li Yaru darted into the covers like a little leopard, refusing to come out, wrapping herself tightly.
When Zhuang Qiting tried to lift the quilt, she wriggled away from his grasp.
“Little thing, don’t play tricks. You promised a reward.” Zhuang Qiting gave her a good smack on the bottom through the quilt.
In the end, Li Yaru couldn’t match his strength. The quilt was ruthlessly lifted, revealing her adorable, sweat-slick face, her fluffy long hair scattered in wild disarray.
For a moment, Zhuang Qiting’s heart softened, a fleeting thought of letting her go passing through—then he pressed down on her again.
No way was he passing up his reward; he was a man who knew how to prioritize.
“Baby, kiss me.” He held the back of her head, lifting her whole body up, his voice hoarse and low.
Li Yaru smelled that intense fragrance, mixed with her favorite bath scent.
This scented body wash was gentle and sweet-warm, now blended with the heat of his strong scent—a strange dryness, sprayed all over her, making her lose her bearings, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
This man always carried an overpowering presence, as did his body. Even with her eyes closed, there was no way to erase it.
He leaned in, pressing his bare, rosy lips—unadorned by lipstick—onto hers, exhaling a low, deep breath.
After all these years, he could barely remember this taste anymore, yet it was exquisite, bone-meltingly addictive.
“Thank you, baby…” Zhuang Qiting gazed intensely at his wife, his fingers tenderly running through her disheveled hair, occasionally pressing mischievously at the back of her head.
Li Yaru glared at him, too angry to speak.
The deep crimson overlapped with the delicate pink, their passionate scene illuminated under the bright lights, every detail laid bare.
Her lips tingled with numbness; she patted him with her hand, muffled sounds slipping out from the gaps.
Zhuang Qiting was nearly driven insane by her, his heaving chest betraying his intense emotions.
Suddenly, he acted ruthlessly, pushing in the long-ignored two-thirds like a doctor injecting medicine.
Li Yaru slapped at him, and he squinted his eyes. After a few minutes, he picked her up and kissed her deeply.
“Baby…” He kissed her, uncaring if there was some strange taste between their lips, swallowing her every breath.
Li Yaru clung to him, her fingers digging into his back hard enough to leave marks, maybe even drawing blood.
“I love you, Ah Rou.” Zhuang Qiting spoke between kisses.
Li Yaru’s rebellious hand suddenly stilled, her tightly closed eyes opening to stare dazedly at the man lost in love before her.
“Say it again… Zhuang Qiting.” She steadied her breathing, looking at him calmly.
The man smiled, those always-calm, dignified black eyes now brimming with emotion and surrender.
“I love you, Li Yaru. I loved you from the very first moment I saw you, and I’ll love you until today, and forever.”