I stopped Yue at the door after lunch, just as she was about to leave.
"Hey, Yue."
She turned around and looked at me. "Yes, Wuji? Do you need something?"
"Ah… about that…" I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. "Would you like to go on a da—" I stopped myself and coughed. "I mean, are you free today? Why don't we grab some coffee after work? Maybe dinner, too."
"Sure," she said casually. "I'll ask Hao if he's free."
"No." I stopped her immediately. "I mean… the two of us."
For a moment, she simply looked at me in surprise.
Then I noticed it—a soft glow appearing in her eyes.
"Okay," she replied softly, a faint blush spreading across her face. She lowered her head shyly, avoiding my gaze.
Relief instantly washed over me.
"Great. Then I'll see you after work."
Unable to hide my smile, I happily headed back to my office room.
At exactly five o'clock, I gathered my things and made my way to the lobby. She was already there, standing by the glass doors, her bag slung over one shoulder. She wore a simple white blouse and a dark skirt, professional but softened by the way the evening light caught her hair. When she saw me approaching, she smiled—a small, tentative smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners.
"Ready?" I asked.
She nodded. "Let's walk first. It's a nice evening."
We stepped out of the office building and into the cool air of the early evening. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the pavement and painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The traffic had not yet reached its peak hour chaos, and the streets were filled with the unhurried footsteps of people winding down their day.
She led the way, and I fell into step beside her. We walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks, past shops and cafes and office buildings, before she turned down a quieter street that I did not recognize.
"There is a university campus nearby," she said, her voice soft. "I used to come here sometimes when I needed to think. It is peaceful."
The campus was beautiful. Old trees lined the pathways, their branches forming a canopy that filtered the golden light. Students walked past in small groups, their laughter carrying through the air. The buildings were a mix of old stone and modern glass, blending tradition with progress in a way that felt organic and right.
We walked deeper into the campus until the pathways opened into a wide plaza dominated by a massive fountain. Water arced upward in graceful streams, catching the light and scattering it into tiny rainbows before falling back into the basin with a gentle, rhythmic splash. The sound was soothing, a natural white noise that seemed to wrap around us.
We sat on the edge of the fountain, the stone cool beneath us, and we talked.
For two hours, we talked.
I learned about her family—her parents, who still lived in the countryside; her younger brother, who was studying engineering; and the annual reunion dinners she looked forward to all year. She told me about her hobbies and how she liked to spend her weekends reading in quiet cafés or exploring parts of the city she had never visited before.
She spoke of her dreams with a quiet passion—the desire to travel, to see the mountains of Sichuan and the ancient temples of Xi'an, to one day open a small bookstore where she could spend her afternoons surrounded by stories.
I found myself opening up in return. I told her about my own dreams—the simple life I had always wanted, a quiet home with a garden where I could grow vegetables, a family to come home to at the end of the day. I spoke of my desire to have children someday, to be the kind of father that I had always wished I had. I watched her expression carefully as I said those words, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.
There was none. She simply nodded, her eyes soft, a gentle smile on her lips.
"I think you'd make a good father," she said, and her sincerity warmed my heart.
We did not talk about Bingqing. We did not talk about her dating life. We did not ask questions that crossed boundaries or ventured into territory we weren't ready to explore. We simply talked, two people learning about each other, building the first fragile threads of connection.
---
When the sky began to darken and the fountain lights flickered to life, I finally realized how hungry I had become.
"Where would you like to have dinner?" I asked.
She got up gently. "I know a place."
The restaurant she took me to was small and unassuming, tucked away near the edge of the city where the urban sprawl began to give way to open land. But what made it special was the view. The restaurant was built on a slight elevation, facing a small regional airport, and the entire back wall was made of glass. As we ate, we could watch small airplanes take off and land, their lights blinking against the darkening sky.
We ordered simple dishes—noodles and dumplings and a plate of greens—and shared them between us. We talked and laughed some more, and the conversation flowed with an ease that surprised me. The food was good, but the company was better.
By the time we finished, the night had fully settled in. I paid for the meal despite her protests, and we walked back toward the city center, where her apartment was located. The streets were quieter now, the bustle of the day replaced by the gentle hum of the night.
I walked her to her building. We stood at the entrance, the light from the lobby spilling out onto the pavement, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
"Thank you for tonight," she said softly. "I had a good time."
"So did I," I said. And I meant it.
We did not kiss. We did not hug. It was a simple exchange of smiles, a meeting of eyes that held a hint of promise, and then she turned and walked inside.
I went home feeling happy. Content. There was hope in that feeling, fragile and new, but real.
---
Li Bingqing felt like she had been living in a dream for the past two days.
Sun had stayed with her at the house for the entire weekend, and she had lost count of how many times they had made love. The number did not matter. What mattered was the way he had held her, the way he had looked at her, the way his voice had softened when he whispered her name.
It was beautiful. Perfect. For two days, there had been no marriage, no husband, no third person intruding on their world. Just the two of them, lost in each other, their bodies intertwined in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.
But Monday morning had come, and Sun had left.
Of course, not before taking her one last time, his body pressed against hers, his breath hot against her neck as he deposited his 'love' deep inside her womb. She had felt every pulse, every shudder, every whispered word of affection.
After he left, she had gone back to sleep, exhausted from two nights of lovemaking. When she finally woke, the sun was high in the sky, and the house felt empty in a way that she did not like.
Her body still felt heavy and sore. Even so, she forced herself out of bed. There were a lot of things to do.
She spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon cleaning. She stripped the sheets, washed them twice to remove any trace of their activities. She scrubbed the bathroom, the shower where they had made love under running water. She wiped down every surface, opened every window to let in fresh air, lit scented candles to mask any lingering smell.
She did not want Wuji to find any evidence of what had happened. Not because she felt guilty—she had made peace with her choices—but because she did not want to hurt him unnecessarily.
Yes… it was time for her husband to return.
Bingqing understood what Wuji had done for her.
He had stepped back and left the house to her under the excuse of being angry and refusing to come home.
He had given her space, had backed down and allowed her this time with Sun. It was his way of protecting his ego while giving her what she needed.
I'm angry. I'm staying away. I don't know anything.
That was the role he had chosen to play.
A silent compromise without forcing himself to openly surrender. It was a quiet acceptance, a silent surrender to the new shape of their marriage.
Thinking about it, Bingqing felt warmth spread through her chest.
Wuji loved her deeply. So deeply that he was willing to endure pain for her sake.
Of course she knew he was hurting.
No matter how understanding he tried to be, no husband could remain completely unaffected by something like this.
She was grateful. But now it was time for him to come home.
A beautiful, contented smile bloomed on her face. A loving, understanding husband and a gorgeous, passionate lover. What more could a woman possibly ask for?
—---------
By late afternoon, she had finished cleaning and taken a long shower. She dried herself, put on a light robe, and settled onto the couch—the same couch where Sun had taken her for the first time.
She blushed at the memory. The way his hands had gripped her hips, the way his mouth had claimed hers, the way his cock had filled her so completely.
It had been so erotic, so overwhelming, that even now, thinking about it made her body respond. Her cave was getting wet, although it was still very sore from Sun's rough use.
Ahhh, I am so shameless, she thought, though she felt no real shame. Always thinking about those things. Good thing Wuji will come home tonight. He'd better be ready.
She imagined the evening ahead. Being used by her lover in the morning, then taken by her husband at night.
The thought of being cherished by both men she loved on the same day sent warmth rushing through her body. Their bodies meeting hers, filling her in different ways. The thought made her core ache with desire, leaving her restless and flushed.
Wuji will be in for a treat, she thought, a sly smile curving her lips. He'll be surprised by how ready I am. I'll let him go raw, without a condom. I can't favor my lover over my husband, can I? He'll love it after being tormented these past few days. He deserves it.
She shook her head, forcing herself to stop daydreaming, and reached for her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found the one she was looking for: Husband.
A smile formed on her lips as she opened the chat. The last message was still the one she had sent three nights earlier.
He had never replied.
Quite stubborn, aren't we?
Amused, she dialed his number and pressed the phone to her ear, expecting to hear his voice after a few rings.
If someone had been watching her face at that moment, they would have been startled by the speed of her transformation. One second, she was smiling the warmest smile of her life. The next, that smile had frozen, then crumbled into an expression of cold dread.
"The number you have dialed cannot be reached. Please try again later."
She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen, her heart beginning to pound. She hit redial.
"The number you have dialed...."
She tried again. And again. The same mechanical voice greeted her each time, polite and indifferent to the panic rising in her chest.
With trembling hands, she typed a message:
[Where are you? Why can't I reach you?]
She pressed send.
Her breath hitched as a red exclamation mark appeared beside the message.
Wuji had blocked her number.
Her head spun. The room tilted around her. She gripped the arm of the couch to steady herself, her knuckles white against the fabric, the phone slipping from her other hand and landing on the cushion beside her with a soft thud.
No. No, this cannot be happening. He would not do this. He loves me. He would never…
For the first time since she had embarked on this affair, Li Bingqing felt a flicker of genuine fear.