In the blink of an eye, it was Monday. Li Yaru overslept and didn’t wake up until ten.
Her whole body was sore and weak—she wanted to just be a corpse in bed all day. She even had to go to Macau, but she didn’t want to go out at noon at all!
Who knew what madness had overtaken Zhuang Qiting last night—he was so fierce, so greedy.
The sheets were a mess, as if they’d been soaked. Li Yaru covered her face and had the maid throw them out.
A woman over forty had all kinds of demands for quality of life—she enjoyed pleasure and pampering even more than when she was young, and was more open to trying new things.
But no matter how much she liked or enjoyed it, she couldn’t withstand Zhuang Qiting’s relentless style, couldn’t take his endless torment!
He was a devil!
Li Yaru had the maid give her a half-hour massage before she could finally crawl out of bed, trembling slightly.
While changing, she found a raw, exaggerated hickey right in the middle of her neck.
After a night, it had ripened into a purplish red. She couldn’t help but blush.
“That old bastard… really wants to kill me…”
He knew she had to meet someone at noon and deliberately left a mark in such an obvious spot—afraid others wouldn’t know just how satisfying her married life was!
And not just her neck—her legs were also a disaster zone. Wearing a short skirt was out of the question.
Li Yaru was mad for nothing. The hickey wouldn’t fade, so she had to swap her pearl necklace for a silk scarf, wrapping her neck tightly. Wearing a silk scarf in the heat was strange.
Fan Zizhuo’s company was renting in Man Yee Building in Zhong Huan, a bustling area with all kinds of restaurants and shops.
Li Yaru didn’t arrive at the address Fan Zizhuo sent until 12:40. It was a Western restaurant near Man Yee Building, quite stylish and very quiet.
Li Yaru wore sunglasses that covered most of her face, and a black-and-white color-blocked long dress that was both elegant and regal.
Her three-centimeter heels made her a bit less imposing, but added a gentle touch. Guided by the waiter, she went to a window booth.
Fan Zizhuo was already there, holding a glass of lemon water and gazing out the window, looking gentle in his gray suit.
“Have you waited long? Sorry, it took a while to get here from my house—I was delayed on the way.” She had been the one to suggest coffee, yet she was the one who was late.
Fan Zizhuo smiled kindly. “Not at all. I just got off work at 12:30. The timing’s perfect.” He handed her the menu. “Go ahead and order—what would you like?”
Li Yaru took it. “Just so we’re clear, this meal’s on me. Don’t argue with me about it.” Her pretty nails tapped the hard menu cover. “I’ll have the steak with basil pesto, tuna mashed potatoes, and avocado salad. Thank you.” She looked up at Fan Zizhuo. “Did you order?”
Fan Zizhuo said, “I’ll have a steak and salad too, plus a hot latte and an iced Americano.”
The waiter recorded their order and left with the menus.
Li Yaru laughed. “Right, we said coffee, but we nearly forgot to order it.”
“I ordered according to your old tastes. Not sure if you’ve changed.” Fan Zizhuo quietly watched the woman in front of him.
A ripple stirred in Li Yaru’s heart. She sighed, “Your memory is still so good. I’ve always liked coffee with milk.”
She thought of the past—after class, she and Fan Zizhuo would go to the shabby ice shop across from the school for curry fish balls.
For just one more yuan, you could get another drink—iced lemon tea or coffee, your choice. She always chose iced lemon tea because she found coffee too bitter.
That was so long ago—more than twenty years.
She never ate that kind of food anymore. Zhuang Qiting didn’t let her, said it was unhygienic.
Fan Zizhuo lowered his eyes and smiled, his voice soft and a little wistful. “I’ve always remembered your preferences.”
The words were heavy, like a low cloud, and Li Yaru’s heart trembled. Of course, she pretended not to hear and changed the subject. “By the way, your wife? Didn’t she come to Hong Kong Island with you? If she’s here, I’ll take her to my art museum sometime.”
“I divorced five years ago.”
Li Yaru was stunned. “You… actually divorced? What about your child?”
Fan Zizhuo replied, “My son is in the United Kingdom for high school. He’s pretty independent, doesn’t need me to worry. Surprised?” He smiled. “At our age, divorce isn’t that rare, is it?”
Li Yaru smiled helplessly, putting away her shocked look. “It’s normal, but with you, it’s strange. You always seemed like a family man—tolerant, caring. I can’t imagine you getting divorced in middle age. Don’t tell me… you…” She hesitated, her gaze odd.
Even Zhuang Qiting hadn’t cheated!
Fan Zizhuo laughed, his gentle eyes just like when he was young, only now with faint wrinkles. “You’re still as gossipy as when you were a kid. Don’t worry, Ah Rou, I’m not that kind of person. I actually thought about contacting you a couple years ago, but never found the chance, and was afraid you wouldn’t want to keep in touch. Today’s meal was a lucky coincidence. Seeing you so happy in person makes me glad for you.”
Li Yaru smiled along with him.
She wasn’t sure what Fan Zizhuo was thinking. She wasn’t vain enough to believe he still pined for her, but who could say what men and women might feel?
In middle age, after so much, people grew weary and entered a sage-like state.
But precisely because of that, forbidden passion was easiest to ignite—like dry wood catching a spark.
Surveys showed the highest rate of infidelity was among middle-aged people—almost half of men couldn’t escape it.
Middle age, middle age—such a lonely yet passionate age, also the best age! Richer than youth, healthier than old age—perfect for mischief!
Li Yaru started idly fantasizing about what it would be like to do something bad behind Zhuang Qiting’s back. How funny—would he be so angry he jumped up and down? So furious that decades of self-control would collapse?
She hated his arrogance, hated how his calm exterior masked utter pride, and hated how he always acted like her father. The more he tried to control her, the more her rebellious side grew.
But she was a smart woman. Fan Zizhuo was already in his forties, divorced, and had a child. As a rich, beautiful, super-wealthy woman, she had no reason to get involved in that mess.
There were plenty of strong, handsome young men in the world—more than there were flowers in spring.
Forget it, forget it… those strong young men might not even be as skillful as Zhuang Qiting. She reined in her wild thoughts.
While Li Yaru’s mind was burning with wild ideas, Zhuang Qiting was in the nearby Shenghui building reviewing documents.
His long, well-defined fingers held a gold-and-red Montblanc Pen, its body wrapped in specially treated Snake Skin. The Gold Cap looked like a snake’s eye—luxurious and sinister.
With his wife out meeting an old friend, and no lunch appointment himself, he told Li Guanjia to bring him a meal. If there were no banquets, he always preferred to eat at home.
No matter how varied or delicious outside food was, it couldn’t compare to what he had at home.
The Chef at the Zhuang Residence knew his tastes well. Every meal was balanced according to the Nutritionist’s advice—two appetizers, two main courses, a nourishing soup—sumptuous and delicious.
In truth, Zhuang Qiting wasn’t even hungry, but he still ate most of it. Food gave him energy, and he needed energy to do many things.
In the empty, quiet office, the man ate his meal in silence—even the air seemed still.
Until his work phone received an email. He opened it.
The message was simple. The location was clear. The photo was unmistakable.
[Sir, Madam is at XX Road, XX Amelia Restaurant.]
The silk scarf on the woman’s neck was an eyesore. The dress was nice, though—ankle-length, covering those long, white, criminally alluring legs.
His wife had dressed up beautifully, hiding it from her husband, and was meeting her old lover.
Zhuang Qiting leisurely lit a cigarette. This little thing was always scheming to do bad things—how could he ever be at ease with her?
Even at forty, or sixty, he would still keep her in check!