Volume One, Chapter 10: Long-Lost Tenderness

Zhou Jinghuai’s eyes held an unmistakably masculine hunger.

Ye Wu felt a surge of irritation. She did not want to see him; their divorce would be handled by the lawyers.

She moved to close the door, but Zhou Jinghuai was faster. He thrust one foot into the gap, stopping it, then easily slipped inside.

The moment the door shut, Ye Wu found herself pulled into his arms.

Zhou Jinghuai wrapped an arm around her slender waist and pressed her fiercely against him. He kissed her almost frantically. Ye Wu could not break free, and in that breathless struggle, the man and woman stumbled and half-resisted their way toward the sofa.

The soft sofa clearly gave the man more room to maneuver—

Zhou Jinghuai had never been like this before.

Under the bright lights, even the woman’s soft, alluring voice could not seem to restore his reason. It was only when a faint vermilion mole came into view that Zhou Jinghuai finally slowed a little.

Controlling his heavy breathing, he pressed his feverish lips to the base of Ye Wu’s ear and asked in a hoarse, broken voice, “Do you like me?”

Ye Wu’s body went rigid.

She did like Zhou Jinghuai.

She had loved him since she was twenty. Zhou Jinghuai knew it perfectly well, yet in all these years he had never asked. Now that he suddenly had, Ye Wu could only think that he must have taken the wrong medicine. Naturally, she refused to say anything so humiliating.

Since Ye Wu would not answer, Zhou Jinghuai pinned her down and tried to take her.

They wrestled together on the sofa. Ye Wu clutched his short black hair and panted softly. “Zhou Jinghuai, calm down. I’m not ovulating today. No matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to plant a seed in my womb.”

At that, Zhou Jinghuai lifted his eyes slightly.

The man’s deep gaze lingered on her. Her delicate, oval face was pale and lovely; her damp black hair spilled across the coffee-colored sofa. The black men’s shirt she wore had long since fallen into disarray, barely concealing anything.

She looked utterly enticing, yet Zhou Jinghuai’s eyes quietly reddened.

He reached out and touched her stomach with surprising tenderness.

It was soft and perfectly flat.

Ye Wu tipped her head back and repeated in a trembling voice, “Zhou Jinghuai, I’m not in my fertile period.”

“I know.”

His voice was even raspier than before.

He continued to stroke her stomach with gentle affection. After a very long while, he leaned over and kissed her again, lingering and intimate, as though he could spend an entire lifetime doing this with her.

His desire surged instantly.

Yet Zhou Jinghuai stopped. He lay over her, breathing hard.

The man’s hurried breaths revealed the immense restraint and endurance he was forcing upon himself. It was the first time he had ever been so unable to control himself in front of Ye Wu. Just now, he had truly wanted to—

Ye Wu reached out and pushed him away.

Though she was in a disheveled state, she still forced herself to remain composed. She pulled out the divorce agreement and threw it at Zhou Jinghuai. Her voice was rough. “You can hold my twenty percent on my behalf. I’ll only take the dividends. Zhou Jinghuai, you know exactly what my efforts over the past four years are worth. Are they worth this much?”

“They are.”

“But I don’t want to give them to you.”

Zhou Jinghuai’s eyes darkened, concealing thoughts Ye Wu could not read.

She looked down at herself, then, as if throwing caution to the wind, hooked her arms around his neck and pressed her body tightly against him. “Sign it, and I’ll let you have me once. You look like you need it.”

Zhou Jinghuai frowned. “Where did you learn to say such shameless things?”

Ye Wu gave a self-mocking smile. “Zhou Jinghuai, I think there’s something wonderfully satisfying about wrapping my arms around your neck and asking you for money. I worked myself to the bone all those years—what was it for? In the end, you still drove me out of the Rong’en Group. I might as well just ask you for money.”

Zhou Jinghuai rolled over and sat up. He took a pack of cigarettes from his coat, lowered his head, and lit one with practiced ease.

He rarely smoked indoors. Clearly, he was deeply troubled.

Ye Wu, however, was furious. The bastard had held her down and kissed her senseless on the sofa, leaving her in a state no one could see, while he remained perfectly dressed, his coat still hanging from his shoulders.

Ye Wu decided something was wrong with him.

He must have been heartbroken.

But as his soon-to-be ex-wife, she had no right to ask about his private life. That was one of the essential qualities of a clearheaded woman.

Unable to drive him away and unwilling to watch him blow smoke into the air, Ye Wu gathered her damp hair behind her head and secured it simply with a claw clip. She slipped on her house slippers and went into the kitchen to make herself a bowl of plain noodles.

Ye Wu was actually a good cook. It was only after marrying Zhou Jinghuai that she had rarely had the chance to cook.

Now that she lived alone, she prepared her own simple meals.

Before long, the fragrance of scallions drifted from the kitchen, carrying with it the faint warmth of everyday domestic life.

Sitting on the sofa, Zhou Jinghuai happened to see Ye Wu’s back. She was still wearing the black shirt, her thighs exposed, looking irresistibly seductive. Yet as she lowered her head to chop scallions and ginger, she somehow seemed imbued with the quiet air of a married woman.

The phrase “beloved wife” began to take on a tangible shape.

Zhou Jinghuai thought silently that a woman like Ye Wu must be the dream of countless men.

The thought made him frown slightly. He leaned forward and stubbed out the cigarette between his fingers, then began looking around the apartment.

Though the place was small, it had everything it needed.

She had even set aside a small studio for painting.

Zhou Jinghuai lifted the canvas from the easel. Beneath it was an unfinished painting of a starry sky over the sea.

It was no longer a portrait of Zhou Jinghuai. In the past, Ye Wu’s favorite subject had always been Zhou Jinghuai.

The man gently brushed his fingers over the painted strokes, feeling a faint ache in his heart.

After a while, he quietly entered the narrow kitchen and slipped his arms around the woman’s slender waist from behind. In all their years as husband and wife, they had never shared this kind of tenderness.

Zhou Jinghuai’s handsome, thin lips pressed against the back of her neck. His voice was slightly hoarse. “Is this the life you want? A home of less than one hundred and fifty square meters, worrying about food and household expenses, slowly wearing yourself down until you become an ordinary housewife?”

Ye Wu did not struggle. They had been married for four years; they had done this many times before.

She could treat this little intimacy as nothing more than being bitten by a dog.

Her hands never stopped moving. Her voice was indifferent. “Yes. This is exactly the life I want. Once I’m completely divorced from you, my life will be even more perfect. I can move into a two-thousand-square-meter house, hire ten servants, and whenever I’m in the mood, bring home a man I actually like and party with him all night…”

Zhou Jinghuai was clearly enraged. He bit her neck. “You’re still Mrs. Zhou.”

“Not for much longer.”

The moment she finished speaking, Zhou Jinghuai turned her around.

The man lowered his head and looked at her, his gaze unfathomably deep. After a long silence, he said hoarsely, “If this is the greatest problem in our marriage, Ye Wu, I can satisfy you.”

In the past, Ye Wu would certainly have been seduced beyond control.

But now she was immune to Zhou Jinghuai’s charm. His suggestive words and honeyed promises were merely tools to achieve his purpose. She had been deceived once already, and it had left her battered and bleeding.

Ye Wu turned away and continued making her plain noodles, but the man asked her to make him a bowl as well.

He clung to her body, saying that he was hungry.

Ye Wu’s hands paused. Thinking of the sordid mess between him and Bai Qianqian, she gave a cold laugh. “Zhou Jinghuai, you really are hungry.”

With callused fingertips, Zhou Jinghuai gently rubbed her lower abdomen. Tonight, he seemed especially fond of touching that particular place.

After a long while, he said in a hoarse voice, “I never touched her.”

Ye Wu did not say anything else.

That night, Zhou Jinghuai refused to leave. Even when Little White bit down on his trouser leg and tried to drag him away, it was useless.

Ye Wu was forced to give up half of her bed.

Before they went to sleep, Zhou Jinghuai pressed Ye Wu down onto the mattress and kissed her with their fingers tightly interlaced. In her memory, the only time he had ever been this passionate was on their wedding night.