The expensive tourbillon watch face flashed before her eyes, and Li Yaru realized that forty minutes had passed just like that.
She still hadn’t sensed the oddness in the atmosphere, still complaining that Zhuang Qiting wouldn’t even wait a little while for her.
“Forty minutes isn’t even that long. It takes you over twenty minutes just to get here, so you’re not even willing to wait patiently for me for a quarter of an hour. Don’t you know you’re the center of attention?”
Zhuang Qiting’s deep, somber gaze locked onto Li Yaru, finally falling on her rosy lips that opened and closed, and he held that gaze for several seconds, barely resisting the urge to harshly rub or bite those lips of hers, before pretending to look away nonchalantly.
“I made a reservation at a restaurant. Let’s go eat.”
After speaking, he assertively grabbed Li Yaru’s hand, not caring that they were in public, and just like that, openly pulled her toward the VIP exit.
Li Yaru struggled a bit and quickly said, “There’ll be paparazzi outside, Dalao.”
Zhuang Qiting’s grip tightened, his tone unwavering, “Then let them take pictures.”
Li Yaru glanced in confusion at the sharp profile of the man beside her.
Only now did she notice that Zhuang Qiting’s mood was strange, as if he was suppressing some deep, brooding fire, yet pretending nothing was wrong.
It couldn’t be, right? She hadn’t upset him today.
Besides, when she left the Li Residence, this man had still looked relaxed and pleased, as if he’d like to set off firecrackers at the gate in celebration.
Could it be… he saw her kiss Liang Sijie earlier?
That kiss, totally outside the realm of a man’s boundaries, didn’t seem like a big deal to Li Yaru.
She felt it was hers to give, so she gave it, never considering that Zhuang Qiting might be upset about it—she just acted on her whim.
Li Yaru pressed her lips together, thinking about how Zhuang Qiting hid in the shadows, spying on her and Liang Sijie, all while pretending not to know.
A sly glint flickered in her eyes, and her look at Zhuang Qiting became even more subtle.
The car was waiting in the underground parking lot, and they walked all the way through the VIP Channel, not encountering a single person.
Once in the car, Zhuang Qiting took a bottle of spring water from the glove compartment, twisted off the cap, and gulped down large mouthfuls of cold water, his prominent Adam’s apple moving up and down.
“Are you that thirsty?” Li Yaru cocked her head, seeing him drink nearly half the bottle.
Zhuang Qiting shot her a dark look. “Yeah, very thirsty.”
He was irritated inside, something was tearing at him, but he couldn’t smoke for fear of bothering Li Yaru, so all he could do was drink water to suppress it.
He regretted not waiting even ten more minutes, insisting on rushing into the airport to pick up Li Yaru himself.
The moment his wife stood on tiptoe and kissed that little lapdog, his blood nearly boiled over—he wanted to storm up and drag her back immediately.
He didn’t know what held him back; he remembered five years ago in Rome, when Li Yaru cried before him, accusing him of monitoring and not trusting her.
He nearly crushed the ring on his finger, only barely restraining himself.
“Here, let me have a sip too.” Li Yaru crooked her finger at Zhuang Qiting.
She had changed her nail design again—today it was a glamorous, bright red, sparkling with flecks of gold under the dim light, making her slender, graceful fingers look all the more alluring.
Zhuang Qiting, Adam’s apple still moving, stared at her without blinking and handed over the water bottle he’d just drunk from.
Li Yaru smiled as she took it, unfazed that he’d already drunk from it, and elegantly pressed her lips to the mouth of the bottle. Water moistened her lips, leaving them shimmering.
The car was already driving out of the underground parking lot, heading for a private, reservation-only restaurant he had booked.
Li Yaru stuck out her tongue, licking the water from her lips.
The taciturn man beside her finally couldn’t take it, pulled her onto his lap, and took a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe her lips.
His shoulders were broad, completely covering her delicate frame. With his fingers gently pinching her chin and lifting her face, his gaze and movements remained cold, yet there was a thread of tenderness—afraid of hurting her, he wiped her lips again and again with great care.
After Zhuang Qiting had thoroughly wiped her lips, her lipstick was all but gone, leaving only a faint flush of red seeped into her skin.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Li Yaru laughed, looking at his cold face.
Zhuang Qiting’s expression didn’t change. “Wiping your mouth. It was dirty.”
“How is it dirty? You wiped off all my lipstick.”
“That lipstick doesn’t look good. I’ll get you a new one.”
“It looked perfectly fine, and I only brought this one out with me.”
Zhuang Qiting’s anger still simmered; he secretly cursed this little vixen.
Sometimes he resented how she could be so captivating, endlessly charming—men, women, old and young, even animals liked her.
“I’ll buy you a new one. Throw this lipstick away.”
Li Yaru blinked, a teasing look in her eyes. She brushed her half-red lips against the tip of his nose.
“Zhuang Dalao has never even given me lipstick before.”
Zhuang Qiting’s breathing grew heavy.
Suddenly, he lifted his head and caught her lips precisely between his teeth, nibbling repeatedly on their fullness, then rubbing them over and over with the tip of his tongue, before deeply sucking, missing not a single spot—just like an animal marking its territory, covering her with his own scent to blot out all others.
But she didn’t stop him. In fact, she even parted her lips, letting him in.
The kiss lasted nearly five minutes. Zhuang Qiting was sweating from the passion, pressed beneath Li Yaru, up against her curves.
“Control your ugly side,” Li Yaru said, grabbing his suit-clad shoulders and whispering shyly in his ear.
“Even if you want me to, I can’t,” he replied.
Li Yaru, annoyed, bit his ear.
The restaurant was on Keshidian Road. When the car parked in the reserved space, Li Yaru asked what kind of restaurant it was.
When she learned it was called Monblue, she laughed. “Why did you book A Zhou’s restaurant?”
“Is this the one run by that money-loser?”
Li Yaru elbowed him and glared, “Money-loser? If you keep talking like that, I’ll assume you’re still hung up on your dear wife and child!”
Zhuang Qiting didn’t dare utter another word, his eyes darkening.
The restaurant was even grander and more elegant than most upscale places.
The private room was at the end, surrounded on three sides by windows overlooking the Victoria Harbour.
Inside, there was a giant aquarium filled with colorful coral, sea anemones, and tropical fish.
Zhuang Qiting had ordered in advance—all dishes Li Yaru loved. But he had no appetite and barely touched a bite, only watching the woman across from him dig in heartily.
He kept thinking about that kiss. Even though it was only on the cheek, it was enough to stir up the tidal wave of possessiveness in his bones.
He never should have trusted that little lapdog—even as he was heading back to Japan, he just had to pull one last stunt.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Zhuang Qiting gripped his knife and fork tightly, lowering his gaze, voice heavy. “I am eating.”
Li Yaru sighed inwardly. If she didn’t coax him, he’d probably refuse to eat or sleep. How could he still be so childish at this age?
She set down her utensils, walked around the table, and sat on Zhuang Qiting’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. “Upset?”
Zhuang Qiting rarely had her throw herself into his arms like this—the softness and warmth felt just right, and he let out a contented sigh. “Dining with you, of course I’m happy.”
Li Yaru smiled. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
“Go ahead,” Zhuang Qiting said, looking at her.
“When I was seeing A Jie off earlier, he asked me for a gift.” Li Yaru’s bare lips were still strikingly red, the smile at their corners full of charm.
Zhuang Qiting waited a moment, then spoke in a low tone, “What gift?”
Li Yaru leaned in, breathing softly by his ear. “A Lucky Kiss.” As she spoke, she felt the man’s back stiffen, the muscles beneath his suit tense up.
“You gave it to him?” Zhuang Qiting swallowed his feelings, staring coldly at the aquarium across from them, where the little fish swam about, annoyingly carefree.
“Mm, I did. I kissed his cheek, hoping that from now on he’ll always be lucky, and always get what he wants,” Li Yaru said gently.
A trace of dark jealousy flashed in Zhuang Qiting’s eyes.
She wished for another man to always be lucky, to always get what he wanted. But what about him?
He wasn’t lucky, he didn’t get what he wanted.
The next moment, a soft kiss landed on his cheek.
“A Lucky Kiss, one for you too.”
Zhuang Qiting’s eyes suddenly tightened. He looked at Li Yaru, flickering emotions in his gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s for you. I hope you’re lucky too.” Li Yaru clung to his shoulder, smiling sweetly.
With that kiss, most of the fire in Zhuang Qiting’s heart was put out, but he still said coldly, “My wife kisses another man, and I’m supposed to be lucky?”
Li Yaru burst out laughing, helplessly saying, “Could you please not be so mean?”
Zhuang Qiting said nothing, but his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, shifting her to sit more comfortably in his lap.
Li Yaru’s heart softened, her gaze growing gentle. His embrace was always so satisfying.
These years, he really had changed a lot—not the domineering, tyrannical dictator he once was.
Though he was still deeply possessive of her, he had truly learned to care for her dignity, her feelings, her moods.
That invisible thread between them was now entirely in her hands.
He’d always had this persistent, unwavering attachment to her. After so many years, he was still passionate, still intense. He always made her heart flutter.
“Who says you’re not lucky?” Li Yaru kissed his other cheek for symmetry. “There, one for this side too.”
Zhuang Qiting: “Is that so? How am I lucky?”
“I’ve agreed to let you be my boyfriend. Isn’t that lucky enough?” Li Yaru blinked.
Zhuang Qiting froze for a moment, then suddenly tightened his arms, his dark eyes sharp. “What did you say?”
She had held out all these years, refusing to remarry, never acknowledging their relationship—why today…?
“After all these years of evaluating you, I think you’re all right. I’ll allow you a little upgrade.” Li Yaru hugged his broad shoulders.
“I agree to let you be my boyfriend, Zhuang Qiting.”
“Then let’s remarry tomorrow.”
“……………”
Li Yaru laughed out loud, slapping his chest. “You wish! So greedy! I said boyfriend, not husband.”
Zhuang Qiting: “Then let’s announce it publicly tomorrow.”
“………………”
Li Yaru, exasperated, bit his lip, marking him just as he had marked her, grinding her teeth as she spoke, “Who still announces a relationship in the papers? You’re crazy. Don’t make trouble for me—careful or I’ll break up with you tomorrow.”
Zhuang Qiting cupped her face, kissing her deeply, his breath hot against her lips and nose. “Li Yaru, there’s no divorce and no breakup with me.”
A wife’s boyfriend. He mulled over that phrase, feeling oddly satisfied.
It was a thousand times better than being just some useless bed partner.
Besides, life was long, and with so many years still to spend with her, he would eventually win her back.