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Jiang Huaiyu had long mastered the art of restraint, maintaining an outwardly calm demeanor that left Wen Shuyu blissfully unaware of the deeper implications behind his words, “Next time, it won’t happen again.”
As the air hung thick with tension, he masked his true feelings beneath a facade of indifference. Each encounter with her was a test of his patience, a battle between desire and discipline that played out in the quiet spaces of their lives.
Wen Shuyu, oblivious to the storm brewing within him, continued to navigate her world with her characteristic lightness. She moved through her days with an effortless charm, her laughter ringing like chimes in the wind, blissfully ignorant of the turmoil that her mere presence ignited in Jiang Huaiyu.
Their moments together were filled with warmth and laughter, yet for Jiang Huaiyu, each smile from her was a reminder of the unspoken boundaries he had set for himself. The memories of their stolen glances and fleeting touches lingered in his mind like a sweet torment, each one a reminder of the yearning he kept tightly bound.
It was in the quiet moments, when Wen Shuyu’s gaze turned to the horizon, lost in thought, that Jiang Huaiyu felt the weight of his feelings the most. He admired the way her hair caught the light, framing her face in a halo of soft curls, and how her expressive eyes seemed to hold a universe of dreams and desires—none of which included him.
And yet, he couldn’t help but imagine a different reality, one where he could bridge the chasm between them and lay bare the emotions he fought so hard to conceal. In his heart, a flame flickered, ignited by the countless moments they shared, whispering promises of what could be.
But the echoes of his past loomed large, reminding him of the consequences of surrendering to temptation. Jiang Huaiyu steeled himself, repeating the mantra that had guided him for years: “Next time, it won’t happen again.”
As the seasons changed and life continued its relentless march, Jiang Huaiyu found himself at a crossroads, caught between the man he was and the man he wished to become. The struggle raged within him, each day an exercise in self-denial and unspoken longing.
Wen Shuyu remained blissfully unaware, her laughter dancing through the air, infusing his world with a lightness he had never known. She was a breath of fresh air in his otherwise constrained existence, and he cherished every fleeting moment they spent together.
Yet, beneath the surface, the current of their relationship began to shift, swirling with unacknowledged feelings and burgeoning desire. Jiang Huaiyu felt the pull of something greater, something that could shatter the fragile balance they had maintained.
The day finally arrived when the tension between them became palpable, an electric charge that crackled in the air. It was in the heat of that moment, when their eyes locked and the world around them faded away, that Jiang Huaiyu felt the veil of restraint slip.
With each heartbeat, the distance between them closed, and the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. He could no longer deny the longing that had been simmering beneath the surface, threatening to erupt like a volcano.
But as he took a step closer, ready to confront the feelings that had haunted him, he hesitated. Memories of past mistakes flooded his mind, cautioning him against crossing that delicate line. Could he risk everything for a chance at love, or was he destined to remain a prisoner of his own making?
In that fleeting moment, the choice weighed heavily on his heart. Would he finally embrace the truth that had been hiding in the shadows, or retreat back into the safety of silence?
The answer lingered on the edge of his lips, tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach.
The joy of the weekend lingered into Monday as Wen Shuyu stepped into the office, her smile lifting her spirits higher with each step.
“Yuyu, looks like you had a great weekend!” her colleague greeted.
“It was pretty good,” she replied, her gaze drifting out the window, where soft white clouds dotted the blue sky. She pulled down the curtain and caught sight of a heart-shaped cloud floating by.
On a whimsical impulse, she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo, posting it with the caption: “Craving watermelon-flavored soda.”
That summer felt perfect—no need for air conditioning and no relentless heat warnings. Just the sound of cicadas chirping from the trees, the steam rising from icy treats, a gentle breeze in the shade, and swarms of dragonflies dancing in the evening light.
She could almost see herself bouncing along the curb, with Jiang Huaiyu trailing behind, his eyes filled with concern lest she stumble and fall. They had spent summers catching cicadas, exploring the countryside, and fishing for crayfish—a time long past.
Wen Shuyu lost herself in these nostalgic thoughts until a knock on the door jolted her back to reality.
A receptionist named Luo Luo stood at the door, holding a green paper bag. “Yuyu, your watermelon-flavored soda,” she said, placing it on Wen Shuyu’s desk.
“Who sent this?” Wen Shuyu asked, curious as she unwrapped the bag.
Inside was a transparent glass bottle filled with a vibrant mix of red and white, slices of lime clinging to the sides, and fizzy bubbles rising from the bottom, floating over crushed watermelon and cheerful melon balls.
“I don’t know,” Luo Luo shrugged before turning to leave.
The sticker on the cup revealed its sender, and a smile crept onto Wen Shuyu’s face as she realized. “Thanks, busy yourself then!” she called after Luo Luo.
Once alone, she opened her chat with Jiang Huaiyu and typed, “Mr. Jiang, doing good deeds anonymously, huh?”
Her message felt a bit cold, lacking warmth, so she sifted through her collection of emojis, deliberating over which one to use. The hearts felt too ambiguous, so she settled on a simple smiley face.
Jiang Huaiyu replied, “Is it good?”
Wen Shuyu responded, “Yes! Tastes just like when I was a kid—your skills are still top-notch, Mr. Jiang.”
He had managed to recreate that nostalgic flavor, a mix of apple and Sprite. Jiang Huaiyu was not one to easily engage in conversation, and her praise left him momentarily at a loss for words.
Finally, he replied, “If you like it, then it was worth the effort.”
Just then, Song Jinnan entered and noticed Jiang Huaiyu scratching his head, clearly puzzled. Before he could ask, Jiang Huaiyu spoke first.
“I had some leftover watermelon and thought I’d share it with you.”
“The middle part’s gone, and you’re giving me the leftovers? You should’ve saved the best for your wife,” Song Jinnan retorted, watching as Jiang Huaiyu went to great lengths for his partner.
Jiang Huaiyu raised an eyebrow. “What else would I do?”
Song Jinnan stepped closer, noticing something strange. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Looks like Mr. Jiang’s love life is quite intense; your lips are all chapped!”
A small patch of deep red crusted at the corner of Jiang Huaiyu’s mouth was evident.
“Did you get bitten while sneaking kisses?” Song Jinnan continued to tease.
“Or maybe my kissing skills just aren’t that great,” Jiang Huaiyu shot back, ignoring the jabs as he shifted the conversation. “How’s the order from Port City coming along?”
The Port City order was critical for the company’s next phase of development, and it demanded their full attention.
“Just came to tell you it’s going well,” Song Jinnan replied, holding the watermelon. “But I think we should visit them again—too many eyes watching us.”
After a brief pause, Jiang Huaiyu nodded. “Alright, I’ll join you in a couple of days.”
As the sun set, casting a warm glow across the sky, the heart-shaped cloud drifted away, leaving behind the encroaching dusk. The last rays of a brilliant sunset wove into the cityscape.
Wen Shuyu walked under the twilight, spotting a familiar black sedan.
The license plate bore Jiang Huaiyu’s birthday: 325.
“Mr. Jiang, right on time!” she said, struggling with her seatbelt, which Jiang Huaiyu quickly helped her with.
He pinched her cheek lightly. “When it’s time to pick up my wife, punctuality is a must.”
Perhaps it was the last time.
As they drove, Wen Shuyu filled him in on her day and her thoughts about the watermelon soda, making Jiang Huaiyu feel nostalgic for simpler times when he’d rush home after school, eager to share the latest gossip.
Who was dating whom, the latest school rumors—it was a different story every day.
She chattered away, needing no prompting from him; he just had to listen.
Life continued its predictable rhythm.
He cooked while she watched, occasionally lending a hand.
The oil in the pan hissed, and Jiang Huaiyu called out, “Could you grab the sugar jar for me?”
Wen Shuyu scanned the countertop and picked up a white jar, handing it to him.
“Just a glance!” Jiang Huaiyu gestured to the one beside it. “The other one.”
She switched it out, rubbing her hands together. “I can’t believe I got it wrong. Good thing I’m married to you.”
It made her realize how sharp her parents’ insights had been.
She couldn’t tell the difference between light soy sauce and dark soy sauce or which jar held salt and which held sugar.
In another household, she might have been pounced on for not knowing how to cook. Learning slowly would have seemed daunting.
They prepared four dishes and a soup, just enough for the two of them, with each portion modestly sized.
As she focused on her plate of rice, she hesitated before asking, “Um, do you have plans after dinner?”
Her voice grew softer with each word.
As the end of their meal approached, her heart raced—an anxious drumroll that crescendoed and then faded, her courage wavering with each passing moment.
Jiang Huaiyu looked up at her. “Is something bothering you?”
Was she really going to lay it all out there? Was she ready to accept a parting of ways—or even a divorce?
“Excuse me,” she said softly, “I need to handle some work.”
If there was a way to delay, she would take it.
Wen Shuyu felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she murmured, “Okay, then hurry up. I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom.”
The thought of what was to come made her voice tremble with an unnatural awkwardness.
After a moment of silence, Jiang Huaiyu ruffled her hair lightly. “If it’s too late, you don’t have to wait for me. Just go to bed.”
Wen Shuyu, in a mock protest, replied with a smile, “I have to wait for you.”
Could she really not wait any longer? Jiang Huaiyu responded, “Alright, I’ll finish up quickly.”
After dinner, as the dishwasher hummed diligently, Jiang Huaiyu retreated to his study to tackle emails while Wen Shuyu prepared in their bedroom.
The clock on the wall of the study ticked steadily, each second echoing in the quiet room. The man at the desk opened his computer but remained motionless, his back radiating solitude.
To him, the words and numbers on the screen were nothing more than jumbled nonsense.
When the hour hand pointed to eleven, Jiang Huaiyu stood, rubbed his face, and tried to act casual.
As much as he wished to avoid it, judgment day was approaching.
Wen Shuyu, nearly falling asleep in the bedroom, perked up at the sound of the door opening. She quickly wrapped herself in a blanket, revealing her delicate, charming face. “You’re so slow! Hurry up and take a shower.”
Her tone was gentle, not sounding like someone bidding farewell.
Was this really just a prelude to a divorce agreement?
In the bathroom, Jiang Huaiyu pondered endlessly, finding his indecision uncharacteristic.
He dried his hair and returned to the bedroom, only to be stunned by the sight before him. He stood at the door, unsure whether to enter or retreat.
Rubbing his eyes, he assured himself this wasn’t a mirage, nor was it an illusion.
Pinching his thigh confirmed it—everything was real.
The once brightly lit bedroom was now dim, the main light switched off, leaving only the bedside lamp glowing softly.
The air was filled with a faint, enchanting fragrance.
Wen Shuyu, wearing the black lace camisole he had bought for her, sat on the bed, her eyes sparkling yet avoiding his gaze.
“Aren’t you coming over?” She finally summoned the courage to look up at Jiang Huaiyu, her fingers nervously fiddling with the lace.
Getting to this moment had drained her of all her strength.
She had even consulted Shen Ruoying on what to do, spritzed on perfume, and applied light makeup. Yet, despite her preparations, she lacked the courage to step forward.
And she definitely wouldn’t attempt to seduce him.
Jiang Huaiyu dared not move, captivated by the way her brown curls framed her porcelain shoulders and the delicate curve of her collarbone, contrasting starkly against the black fabric.
He clenched his fists, suppressing the overwhelming surge of desire within him.
Wen Shuyu had inadvertently sent him a message that implied a debt of gratitude, suggesting that a life owed in return could settle things between them.
His expression darkened as he leaned against the wall, avoiding her gaze. “So, is offering yourself the way to settle this?”
Tonight’s events felt like a carefully constructed scheme, all for the sake of keeping things even.
How convoluted this was.
She thought once they settled their debts, they could go their separate ways.
Suddenly, Jiang Huaiyu smiled, a cold curve forming in the dim light.
Wen Shuyu, puzzled, asked, “No?”
Was there a misunderstanding? Before she could explain, Jiang Huaiyu took a big stride forward, pressing his hands on the bed, and lowered his head to capture her lips in a heated kiss.
He didn’t want to hear any hurtful words from her.
A storm of passion enveloped her as he kissed her fiercely, invading her with an unyielding intensity.
Every word she might have uttered was silenced, drowned out by the kiss.
His minty breath mixed with the warmth of their closeness, compelling her to yield, to soften.
The kiss deepened, altering its essence; it felt like a battle, but one that Jiang Huaiyu was decisively winning.
Breathless, Wen Shuyu struggled to keep up, her anger fueling her resolve as she thumped his chest. “Jiang Huaiyu, I’m done playing.”
The angry words spilled forth from her lips.
He finally released her, but with a smirk, he leaned in closer, “It’s too late, my dear. If you want that, I’ll grant your wish—no debts between us.”
In a swift motion, he pinned Wen Shuyu beneath him, using one hand to secure her wrists while the other restrained her restless legs.
He reclaimed her lips, capturing them with fierce intensity, savoring every moment.
The room fell silent, isolating them from the outside world, leaving only the sound of their heated exchange.
Jiang Huaiyu’s kisses traveled from her lips to her earlobe, down her neck, marking every inch of her skin with his signature.
Her body responded, a melody of its own, a rhythm dictated entirely by him.
Wen Shuyu felt herself losing control over her own body, succumbing to the warmth of his touch.
His breath turned feverish, igniting her skin, filling her with a warmth that spread everywhere.
“Jiang Huaiyu, I don’t want this,” she gasped, her voice wavering with an edge of sorrow, echoing through the dimness like a nightingale’s lament.
“Dislike it as much as you want; I still like you,” he replied, taking advantage of their intimate position to speak the truth from his heart.
He knew she wouldn’t believe him.
Words shared in bed were often lies, and Wen Shuyu had learned not to trust them.
As he continued to kiss her delicate neck, he felt her tremors resonate with every movement, raising her skirt and letting his fingers explore the hidden garden.
In the sweltering heat, the central air conditioning struggled to keep up, leaving the two of them feeling hot and sticky, thin beads of sweat forming on their skin.
He playfully tugged at the delicate straps of her dress, discarding it carelessly onto the floor.
Once upon a time, a man from Wuling sought a paradise filled with peach blossoms; today, he was on a quest for a secret garden of roses.
The garden had never been visited, the path uneven and challenging. After what felt like an eternity of searching, he finally found the way to its heart.
Suddenly, a verse from the ancient text “The Peach Blossom Spring” flickered in his mind: “Initially very narrow, then widening after walking several dozen steps, it suddenly opened up.”
There it was—a pink rosebud, not yet fully blossomed. Just as the clear sky darkened with clouds, a gentle rain began to fall.
With the utmost care, as if handling a fragile piece of crystal, he reached out and plucked it.
She had never been treated with such tenderness. The sound of soft murmurs filled the air, causing Wen Shuyu’s cheeks to flush with embarrassment. She wanted to cover her ears but found herself unable to do so.
A low, magnetic voice joined the playful banter. “Yuyu, do you have any suggestions? I’m not sure if the pressure is just right.”
He was still concerned about her feelings, while she remained stubbornly silent.
Jiang Huaiyu, intentionally increasing the pressure, sent her into a shuddering state. “N-no, it’s not good at all. It’s terrible… just like your kissing skills.”
Her words came out in a broken whisper.
“The fickle fish needs to be punished,” he declared, his movements suddenly accelerating without warning.
In a moment of defiance, she bit down on Jiang Huaiyu’s shoulder, drawing blood with her fierce grip as she gasped, “I hate you, Jiang Huaiyu.”
The sting only ignited his wicked desires, a smirk dancing across his lips. “Hatred lasts longer than love, my dear. Now, bite the right side.”
“You lunatic, you’re truly insane.” Wen Shuyu spat at him, trying to redirect her focus, turning her gaze away.
“Yet I can’t shake the feeling that you actually enjoy this,” Jiang Huaiyu remarked, repositioning her face with a gentle but firm hand, then teasingly licking and nibbling at her lips, swallowing her soft gasps.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get enough. Her sighs spilled into the quiet room like the most exquisite music.
Jiang Huaiyu leaned in closer, whispering into her ear, “Do you remember that time the faucet broke when we were kids…”
His breath was heavy with unspoken words, just like the torrent of water now.
“Such a tease,” Wen Shuyu huffed, playfully hitting his back with her soft fists, though it felt like throwing eggs at a stone wall.
She was utterly no match for him.
After an intense round of playful skirmishes that seemed to go nowhere, Jiang Huaiyu finally released her, reaching for a tissue on the nightstand to wipe his hands.
Wen Shuyu lay on the bed, a delightful tingling sensation washing over her, her mind floating as if she had just completed a marathon, gasping for air.
Slowly, Jiang Huaiyu sat up and kindly tucked the blanket around her. “Wifey, the game ends here for today.”
Game? It was a game in which she was relentlessly crushed. Wen Shuyu furrowed her brows and replied coldly, “I’m done, it’s you who hasn’t done anything. We owe each other nothing now.”
With the way things had escalated, it was as if he could just walk away.
Jiang Huaiyu had no intention of doing that. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’ll let you go, so you can be with him.”
Such tenderness from the one who had just bullied her.
Wen Shuyu wrapped herself in the blanket, raising her voice, “With him? With whom? Be clear!”
Her voice, slightly hoarse, caught in the strands of hair sticking to her damp temples, a mix of sweat and tears marking the signs of his torment.
Jiang Huaiyu released her shoulder, his voice trembling. “You said we owe each other nothing. Keep your prayer talisman. Yuyu, it’ll make me sad too.”
He didn’t want to dwell on it but couldn’t help recalling the words on that talisman.
Two lines etched themselves in his heart:
“May heaven bless Wen Shuyu to be together with Lu Yunheng, forever and always.”
The ink bore a fish and two hearts—a wish from years ago.
But after all this time, the talisman had faded, yet she still cherished it, keeping it in her bag, bringing it back home without a thought for his feelings.
“Why don’t you ever ask me? Just pronounce my sentence. If that’s what you want, I’ll go find him tomorrow.”
In the heat of the argument, her words were sharp and reckless, blood boiling. Wen Shuyu grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened a ticketing site. “I’m going to buy a ticket.”
Was she serious? Her actions outpaced her thoughts, and Jiang Huaiyu snatched the phone from her grasp. “No way.”
A sudden, cold laugh escaped him. “Yuyu, I’ve changed my mind. This is how it’ll be.”
And just like that, he was unwilling to let her go, envisioning a lifetime of entanglement.
Jiang Huaiyu retrieved a crisp white shirt from the closet, dressing Wen Shuyu with care, buttoning it one by one.
In contrast, his pajamas remained unwrinkled, buttons intact.
With a dark gaze, he slowly confessed, “I don’t care whether you still like him. It doesn’t matter; you’re my wife.”
“Ahem.” Wen Shuyu crossed her arms, attempting to explain. “Jiang Huaiyu, it’s not what you think. I feel for him…”
She didn’t want to be misunderstood, especially not by Jiang Huaiyu. There was no need to hide anything from him.
Just then, a shrill ringtone cut through the air, interrupting their conversation.
It was Jiang Huaiyu’s phone. After seeing who was calling, he picked up. Song Jinnan’s urgent voice crackled through the line. “Pack your things! We need to leave for the port city immediately; the order is about to be intercepted!”
If it weren’t urgent, Song Jinnan wouldn’t be calling him at this hour. Jiang Huaiyu replied, “Okay, I’ll be right there.”
Hastily, he rushed to the closet to gather his work essentials, efficiently packing his bag in record time, ready to leave.
Before departing, Jiang Huaiyu opened the bedroom door and glanced at Wen Shuyu. She was absorbed in her phone, tapping away at something. “I’m heading to the airport.”
“Oh.” She leaned against the headboard, not even lifting her gaze to meet his, responding with a lackluster tone.
The master bedroom door clicked shut behind Jiang Huaiyu, but it didn’t slam as one might expect. It felt more like an argument that had been abruptly interrupted.
The sound of the suitcase rolling away grew fainter until it faded completely. Wen Shuyu cautiously climbed out of bed.
The living room was empty, just as she feared—he really was gone.
Disappointed, she turned away, but just then, she heard the unmistakable sound of the fingerprint lock disengaging.
Jiang Huaiyu had returned. He strode toward her, wrapping her in a tight embrace without uttering a single word. The tension in his forearm spoke volumes about his reluctance to let go.
They held each other for about five minutes before Jiang Huaiyu finally released her and turned to leave.
This time, he was truly gone.
Wen Shuyu gathered her courage and caught up with him at the entrance, wrapping her slender arms around his waist from behind.
“Yuyu, I’m in a hurry,” Jiang Huaiyu said softly, unable to pull her arms away, her delicate wrist easily encircled by his hand.
Pressing against his back, Wen Shuyu shook her head, her voice muffled as she sobbed softly, her tears soaking into Jiang Huaiyu’s shirt.
She gently released him. “Jiang Huaiyu, it’s not what you think. I brought it back just to get rid of it. It wouldn’t be right to throw it away at the temple. I don’t like him anymore, I haven’t for a long time. The reason we owe each other nothing is that I don’t want to be in your debt. Once we’re even, I want to make a life with you as husband and wife. If there’s no love now, we can cultivate it. If one day isn’t enough, then we’ll make it a lifetime.”
Her words tumbled out in a rush, incoherent even to her. She had meant to prepare a heartfelt speech, but instead, she spilled out everything in a chaotic torrent.
“You said you never considered divorce.”
Somehow, Wen Shuyu felt deep down that if he left this time, he wouldn’t come back.
It wasn’t a confession, but it was close enough; she was expressing her desire to spend a lifetime with him. Jiang Huaiyu turned to her, kneeling down to kiss away her tears. “Don’t cry, Yuyu. It’s my fault.”
The collar of his shirt was slightly open, revealing a row of red marks at his collarbone—evidence of his playful torment.
Seeing the misty sheen in her eyes, Jiang Huaiyu scooped her up and gently placed her on a chair. “The floor is cold.”
He retrieved a pair of socks from the closet and helped her put them on, knowing her body tended to feel the chill. “Take care of yourself. The master is calling.”
He didn’t address her earlier words.
As she watched Jiang Huaiyu stride away, his tall silhouette growing smaller at the entrance, Wen Shuyu felt a pang of desperation.
She dashed toward him again, wrapping her arms around his waist. “When will you be back? You still haven’t answered me.”
Jiang Huaiyu turned back, brushing his fingers over her cheek and resting his forehead against hers. “Stay here and wait for me. I’ll come back, and we’ll build our feelings together.”
“I won’t get divorced. How could I bear to let you go?”
“You said it first, remember? Pinky swear—one hundred years without changing.” Wen Shuyu took his hand, insisting on completing the childish gesture.
Her sincerity was so earnest that Jiang Huaiyu couldn’t help but lean down, pressing his lips to hers. “I’m leaving now. Stay safe, okay? Auntie will come by to cook.”
Wen Shuyu kissed him back. “Alright, I’ll be good.”
Suddenly, a thought struck her. She rushed to her bag at the entrance and pulled out something, placing it in his palm. “Here’s the prayer talisman. You can do whatever you want with it.”
With a swift motion, Jiang Huaiyu raised his arm and made a perfect basketball shot, tossing the talisman into the trash can.
Outside, the night was tranquil, the moonlight shimmering like silver.
Tomorrow promised to be a beautiful day.