Chapter 8: The “Ordinary” Luxury  

Wang Meifeng’s farcical “ambush” was like a stone thrown into a lake—ripples formed but quickly settled back into stillness. Life seemed to return to the carefully ironed, warm creases of Zhao Chen’s meticulously maintained routine.  

Yu Ling remained busy with the execution of the “Star Ocean Project,” balancing a sense of accomplishment with mounting pressure. Yet whenever she returned to that “home,” she was always greeted by perfectly dimmed lights, the soothing scent of cedar, and the sight of a busy figure in the kitchen, clad in a Little Whale Apron.  

The one-year agreement in Yu Ling’s heart grew increasingly faint, replaced by a deepening dependence and an indescribable sense of security. Zhao Chen was like a silent shield, effortlessly deflecting the storms of the outside world—whether it was workplace politics or the relentless harassment from troublesome relatives.  

She began to grow accustomed to his presence, to his scent, and even started looking forward to the moment she pushed open the door after work to see him peeking out from the kitchen, wearing that apron, smiling and saying, “You’re back? Wash up, dinner’s ready.”  

The secret doubts she harbored about Zhao Chen’s true identity were gradually worn down by the gentle, everyday warmth, surfacing only occasionally, no longer as sharp as they had been at first.  

Only sometimes, when she caught a glimpse of documents on his desk bearing complex English acronyms, or when another expensive bottle of wine—its label indecipherable—arrived as a “gift” from a “friend,” would that tiny unease bubble up like a submerged gasp, only to be quickly suppressed by the steaming vitality of their daily life.  

On a sunny Saturday morning,  

Yu Ling, for once, wasn’t working overtime and had slept in naturally. Wearing comfortable loungewear and shuffling in her fluffy gray slippers, she drowsily wandered into the bathroom. The mirror reflected a face glowing from a good night’s sleep. She turned on the faucet, splashed cool water on her face, and instantly felt more awake.  

Out of habit, she reached for the shampoo in the corner of the sink—a minimalist frosted white bottle with no flashy designs, just a line of small, gold-embossed English letters at the bottom: *Oribe*. Yu Ling had limited knowledge of skincare brands and usually stuck to drugstore products.  

This shampoo had been placed there by Zhao Chen the day she moved in, with the explanation that it was “left by the landlord, no point wasting it.” She had to admit it felt nice—rich, silky lather, leaving her hair smooth and voluminous, with a lingering, sophisticated woody floral scent far superior to the cheap bottles she used to buy.  

As she squeezed a dollop into her palm, working it into a lather, the refreshing fragrance filled the steamy air. Eyes closed, she savored the sensation of the foam enveloping her hair, fingers unconsciously tracing the bottle’s exquisite texture.  

Then, out of nowhere, a thought flashed through her mind: *Hadn’t the particularly picky VP at her company mentioned this brand once? Something about it being a Hollywood celebrity favorite, ridiculously expensive?*

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. The landlord left them here—maybe they were particular about such things before? Humming an off-key tune, she rinsed off the suds and picked up the matching conditioner bottle—the same minimalist frosted white container with gold-embossed letters at the bottom. The conditioner glided like silk, its moisturizing effect astonishing.  

After washing her hair, she felt refreshed. Yu Ling picked up her toothbrush and squeezed on some toothpaste. The tube was made of heavy metal, matte black with only a thin silver trim at the end—again, no logo in sight. She remembered Zhao Chen mentioning that it was a “trial product from a friend’s company, works well, so I brought some home.”  

The toothpaste had a unique flavor—fresh mint with a hint of ginger. After brushing, her mouth felt exceptionally clean, without the usual astringency or lingering sweetness of regular toothpaste.  

Yu Ling bared her teeth at the mirror, admiring their gleaming whiteness, pleased. After drying her face, she habitually pulled open the storage cabinet beneath the sink to look for her moisturizer. She was running low and remembered stashing a spare here.  

Inside, rows of bottles and jars were neatly arranged. In the most prominent spot sat familiar frosted white containers—large refills of the shampoo and conditioner. Beside them, however, was a lineup of skincare products Yu Ling didn’t recognize, yet their packaging was so understatedly luxurious it was staggering.  

Curious, she picked up a deep blue glass bottle. Its smooth, weighty form bore an intricately engraved, subtle pattern on the cap. The label was minimalist, featuring only a few gold-embossed letters: *La Mer*. Next to it, a white bottle of the same refined quality bore the label *La Prairie*. There were also smaller, exquisitely shaped ceramic jars with elegant script reading *Sisley* or *Valmont*…  

Yu Ling: “!!!”  

Though not obsessed with luxury brands, she had seen these names in fashion magazines and the intimidating counters of high-end department stores. These were ultra-premium brands with eye-watering price tags! A single tiny bottle of serum could cover her monthly food expenses!  

Her hand trembled, nearly dropping the heavy *La Mer* bottle. Her heart pounded. *Left by the landlord?! Trial products from a friend’s company?! Could that excuse be any flimsier?! What kind of landlord is this extravagant?! What kind of “friend’s company” hands out *La Prairie* as samples?! This is like moving a luxury counter into the house!*  

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and carefully placed the bottle back as if handling a fragile time bomb. Her gaze swept over the other items in the cabinet: artisanal scented candles (she didn’t recognize the brand, but the fragrance was impossibly refined), elegantly packaged mouthwash, even a few boxes of bath salts labeled in French…  

This wasn’t a bathroom storage cabinet—it was a miniature boudoir vanity! The deluxe edition!  

A wave of absurdity and intense curiosity seized Yu Ling. She shut the cabinet door and hurried out of the bathroom as if fleeing a crime scene, her mind in turmoil.