《The Husband's Little Secret》


 Chapter 1

    "Hmm? Toast for breakfast again?"


    Anderson called out to the kitchen, pulling out a chair to sit at the dining table. On the table were two plates of breakfast: perfectly toasted bread paired with impeccably fried sunny-side-up eggs, flanked by slightly charred bacon and mushrooms with asparagus. Beside his plate, there was only a salt shaker, as he disliked black pepper. Without waiting for his wife, he took a sip of his black coffee and began his meal with knife and fork.


    After half a minute, Anderson realized his wife hadn''t responded to his earlier question. Still cutting his bacon, he asked without looking up, "What are you busy with? The eggs are getting cold."


    Unlike many high-rise apartments in Eildoria, the kitchen in Anderson''s home was spacious, boasting a large window. Though the view was not as stunning as the master bedroom overlooking the Emerald River, it at least allowed sunlight to flood in on normal days. However, today was overcast, with no sunshine or breeze. Instead, the incessant chirping of cicadas, rising from below, filled the space that belonged solely to Emily.


    She stared intently at the messages on her phone, merely reading without replying. The husband''s question cut through the cicada''s hum. Emily took a deep breath, closed the window with a bang, and replied, "You go ahead and eat. I''ll tidy up the kitchen."


    Her voice was calm and natural. Emily couldn''t help but admire herself¡ªshe could win an Oscar or a Baihua Award with such acting. She slipped her phone into her apron pocket, cleaned the coffee grounds from the bowl, washed and wiped the coffee machine, then carried a glass of apple juice out of the kitchen.


    Sitting opposite Anderson, she asked, "Did you say something earlier? The faucet was loud; I didn¡¯t catch it."


    Anderson, having eaten quickly, was already fiddling with his phone while drinking coffee, somewhat distracted. "What? Oh, I just said we¡¯re having toast again today."


    With only two slices of toast left on his plate, Emily squinted slightly, adjusted her black-framed glasses, and smiled. "Yes, we filmed a video yesterday and made too much. There''s still a loaf left; I sliced it and froze it. You can take it out for breakfast these days, as I mentioned before, and put it in the small oven."


    Before she could finish, Anderson interrupted, "Why don''t you take it with you when you leave? I might meet my parents for coffee these days, so there''s no need to leave breakfast for me."


    He added, "I don''t really like toast anyway."


    Emily fell silent for a moment before replying, "Alright, I''ll make sandwiches to take with me."


    Anderson''s eyes never left his phone. "Yes, you can eat them on the high-speed train."


    Emily began eating her breakfast, her bangs slightly too long, swaying and conveniently allowing her to sneak glances at Anderson. From her angle, she couldn''t see his phone screen, but she could watch his face for any telltale expressions, like a smug smile. But his face remained composed and serious, without the slightest hint of betrayal.


    On any other day, Emily would casually test him with a question like, "Why are you discussing work with colleagues so early?" But today, she remained silent. She didn¡¯t want to arouse Anderson¡¯s suspicion with pointless probing. She had to keep playing the role of the gentle wife, unconditionally trusting her husband.


    What should have been a warm breakfast time was eerily quiet. The scraping of cutlery on porcelain, the clinking of the mug on the teak table, and the tapping of fingers on the screen¡ªall these tiny sounds were amplified in Emily¡¯s ears until the cicadas once again filled the house with their cacophony.


    "Have you packed your luggage?" her husband¡¯s question abruptly shattered the strange silence. Emily, pushing away her mixed thoughts, looked up at him. "Yes, it''s packed."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "Remember to check your documents again."


    "I know."


    With his instructions given, Anderson left the table first, leaving behind the cold toast and coffee remnants with Emily. Normally, Emily would mutter about not wasting food and finish the leftovers, but today she swiftly cleared the dishes and tossed the toast into the trash.


    As an excellent food blogger, making sandwiches was a breeze for Emily. She sliced the remaining milk toast evenly, washed the tomatoes, peeled the lettuce, scrambled the eggs, fried the caramelized ham, spread the homemade low-calorie mayonnaise, wrapped them in parchment paper, and cut them with a bread knife. The cross-sections were colorful and perfect.


    She carefully packed four sandwiches into a lunch bag, thinking it was wise to have some food on hand, considering she might not have time to eat later. Half an hour later, when Anderson offered to drive her to the East Station, Emily didn''t refuse.


    She was going on a "business trip" for three days and two nights, with her suitcase in the trunk and her backpack casually placed on the rear seat mat. As the car exited the garage, the Bluetooth connected to Anderson¡¯s phone and automatically played songs from his playlist.


    It was a melancholic love song that had recently gone viral on short video platforms. Emily didn¡¯t know the singer¡¯s name, but the tune was unmistakably popular.


    Hearing Anderson softly singing along with the chorus in his thick accent, Emily turned her face towards the window, feeling a pang in her heart, but couldn''t help rolling her eyes.


    Who was it that used to scoff at such viral internet songs?


    The entire playlist consisted of similar songs. Six months ago, when Emily first heard them in Anderson''s car, she had genuinely asked, "When did your taste in music change?"


    Anderson had laughed and said it was to understand the preferences of the younger employees at the company.


    Anderson could hum along to almost every song without looking at the lyrics, occasionally asking Emily about the details of her trip. Emily answered fluently, as it was a real itinerary.


    She loved cooking and baking, and whenever a foreign teacher came to the country to give lessons, she would attend. This weekend, a Japanese pastry master was holding a class in Shencheng, and Emily had signed up early. The train tickets were real, the hotel booking was real, and she had even planned which new stores to visit after the class.


    Anderson nodded as he listened, reminding her to watch her belongings when traveling alone and not to be careless. He wished her a pleasant trip and promised to pick her up at the station when she returned to Eildoria.


    His voice was so gentle and attentive, reminiscent of their courtship days. Emily watched the familiar streets pass by, feeling a bit dazed. It wasn''t until the car stopped at the station that she snapped out of it, remembering what she had to do next.


    Anderson put on the hazard lights and walked to the trunk to retrieve her suitcase. "Send me a message when you arrive, though I might be in a meeting at the time¡ª"


    "I understand," Emily said, taking her backpack and lunch bag from the back seat, smiling. "I have a class in the afternoon, so I''ll probably head straight to the hotel to drop off my luggage before going. We can talk in the evening."


    "Alright, take care," Anderson said, leaning in to plant a light kiss on her lips, as delicate as a dragonfly skimming the water.


    "You too," Emily replied, standing on tiptoe to return the kiss quickly, like a fleeting star.


    To onlookers, the couple appeared deeply affectionate, unaware of the secrets each harbored. It seemed their love was as strong as ever.


    The drop-off lane couldn''t be occupied for long. After their seemingly tender farewell, Anderson waved to Emily before getting back into the car. She waved back, then pulled her suitcase towards the station entrance.


    The East Station was bustling on a Saturday. Emily walked a few steps, then slowed down and glanced back at the drop-off lane. The white car was still there, its window tint light enough for her to see Anderson¡¯s head bent over his phone, the screen''s glow highlighting his smile.


    The next moment, Anderson''s hand grasped the steering wheel, and Emily turned back, heading towards the ticket gate. As she reached the end of the line, she looked back once more, but the BMW was gone. She immediately turned away from the crowd, moving against the flow like a rogue satellite determined to deviate from its intended orbit.


    Inevitable bumps and jostles ensued in the hot and irritable atmosphere. Ignoring the grumbling passengers, Emily muttered, "Excuse me," as she maneuvered through the throng.


    Despite all her meticulous planning, her heart couldn''t help but race. She grabbed her phone, opening the app that had been running in the background. There was a marked location with a photo, and just as she glanced at it, an incoming voice call popped up.


    She quickly answered, speaking before the caller could: "Have you turned in? I¡¯m almost there."


    The man''s deep voice responded, "Yes, just come straight over. I''m parked here."


    He then added, "I¡¯m in a different car today, a black Toyota with license plate ending in H03, hazard lights on... Oh, I see you."


    Walking briskly, Emily panted slightly as she joked, "Isn''t today¡¯s car a bit too low-profile?"


    The man got out of the Toyota and walked towards the trunk, chuckling wryly. "Sis, we''re catching someone in the act. Can''t be driving a Cayenne around."

 Chapter 2

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    After purchasing the children''s watch, Emily had tested it several times. As long as the signal was stable, the location range was generally accurate. So, she had to find a place to hide the watch face¡ªwithout the strap¡ªthat wouldn''t be easily discovered by Anderson and wouldn''t interfere with the signal.


    In the end, she chose the storage pocket behind the passenger seat.


    When Anderson went to retrieve the luggage from the trunk, Emily swiftly placed the activated watch face into the pocket. It originally held a pack of her frequently used wet wipes. Once the watch face was hidden and the wet wipes were back in place, Anderson closed the trunk lid. The timing was perfect; even a second less could have exposed her scheme.


    Even at this moment, Emily still found this approach absurd.


    She never imagined that one day she would be using a children''s watch to catch her husband''s infidelity.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Two months ago, on Children''s Day, she discovered Anderson''s extramarital affair.


    That morning, while she was shopping at the supermarket, her phone received an iMessage.


    The message was short, "Your husband is cheating."


    Just six words, yet they stirred a tempest in Emily''s chest.


    The message came from an unknown number. She immediately called back, but there was no answer. When she tried again, the phone was turned off.


    Emily tried to regulate her emotions, telling herself not to become paranoid over an anonymous "tip-off."


    It could very well be a malicious prank aimed at unsettling her.


    But she was indeed unsettled. For the next few days, she watched Anderson''s every move, looking for any unusual behavior.


    She found none, but another message arrived.


    This time, it included a picture. Though somewhat blurry, it clearly showed Anderson walking closely with a young woman at Taikoo Hui.


    Emily had never seen this sweet-looking, well-built, fashionably dressed woman before. She wasn''t one of Anderson''s friends, not an intern or employee from his company, nor a neighbor from their community.


    But Anderson''s social circle was vast, and Emily only knew a part of it. Just as Anderson wasn''t fully aware of her friends¡ªoh, but that was because Anderson had little interest in her social life.


    Even though the photo seemed like solid evidence, the angle made it hard to see if the woman was holding Anderson''s arm or if their fingers were interlocked.


    As she trembled with anger, Emily also thought deeply. Even if she threw this photo in Anderson''s face, he could come up with countless explanations to defend himself.


    From their initial meeting, through their courtship, and into marriage, Emily and Anderson had been together for nearly eight years. Throughout their disagreements, Emily had never won an argument against Anderson.


    So, it wasn''t enough. She knew this "evidence" wasn''t enough.


    As for the "whistleblower," the phone remained off.


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 Chapter 3

    Near East Station, the traffic was heavy. Michael gripped the steering wheel, disregarding solid and dashed lines, deftly weaving left and right to close the gap with the target vehicle. Yet, inevitably, they hit a red light.


    The car halted, and Michael glanced sideways at Emily''s profile.


    This meeting with Emily was only the fourth time, but Michael felt as if they had known each other for ages.


    ¡ªIt''s a strange feeling indeed. In his younger days, he often used "haven''t we met somewhere before?" as an icebreaker, but those were days of innocence. Now at thirty-two, such cheesy lines naturally stayed unsaid.


    Emily was still without makeup today, yet her skin was flawless, not a pore in sight. Perhaps due to her hurried walk, her cheeks bore a slight blush, and sweat glistened on her nose.


    From her temples down to her jaw, sweat dampened a few strands of her dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her neck. The sweat clung to her flushed skin, glistening like fish scales.


    The Toyota was rented; there was only one car, and Michael didn''t have the habit of carrying tissues. He called out to Emily, "Hey," gesturing towards his neck, "you better use these tissues to wipe off the sweat from your neck... It¡¯s covered in sweat... It¡¯s not that hot today, so why so much sweat?"


    Emily didn''t take out tissues from her backpack. Instead, she casually wiped her neck with the back of her hand, her eyes fixed on her phone. She admitted, "Maybe I''m just nervous; my heart is beating so fast right now."


    Just as she finished speaking, she seemed to have difficulty breathing.


    Placing her palm over her left chest, she tilted her head back, took a deep breath, and finally muttered with furrowed brows, "It feels so uncomfortable."


    A heart marinated in tears for forty to fifty days and nights couldn¡¯t dry out instantly, even with a resolved mind.


    Turning her face towards Michael, locking eyes, she asked seriously, "And you? Will you manage? Today, there¡¯s more than just me out to catch them. Aren''t you upset?"


    His throat tightened, and Michael didn¡¯t know that he too, like her, had furrowed his brows.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    He didn¡¯t know how to respond to this question.


    He seemed really not that upset anymore about wearing the "green hat."


    Was he too indifferent?


    "Although your situation with Miss Amanda is different, you and her are not yet married..."


    Before Michael could respond, Emily didn''t mind and answered for him, "But you''ve been seriously dating for a few years now, and you were about to propose. How could your feelings not be genuine? You must also be upset."


    Her voice sounded soft, like a white steamed bun that could be squeezed and flattened, yet her tone was firm. Biting into it would burn the tip of your tongue.


    Michael remained silent for a few seconds before saying, "Yes, you''re right. I''m upset too."


    As the traffic light turned green, he left his left hand on the steering wheel, reaching over to grab the bright phone from Emily¡¯s hand.


    Glancing at the map, he placed it horizontally in the dashboard slot.


    Emily wanted to retrieve her phone, but Michael stepped on the gas pedal hard, pushing the Toyota forward with a surge of acceleration.


    As the car moved ahead, Emily heard him say, "Don''t worry, the road god is here. I''ll make sure you catch up to them."


    Emily froze for a moment, waiting to understand his self-proclaimed title, then burst out laughing, "What''s this? Couldn''t you at least claim to be something like the ''Roman Charioteer''?"


    In the corner of her eye, she finally saw a faint smile on her lips, and Michael unknowingly relaxed his thick brows.


    He shamelessly followed up, "My friends praise me like that, but I''m a modest person and never seek such empty fame."


    Amused by him, Emily teased, "Then, Mr. ''Road God,'' I''ll trouble you."


    Michael chuckled, "No problem, buckle up."


    The fact that he, alongside his girlfriend''s mistress''s wife, was sitting in the same car and going to catch them¡ªMichael, who had been playful for many years, couldn¡¯t have imagined such a plot.


    It was absurd, yet undeniably happening.


    Where did things veer off course? Michael couldn¡¯t quite recall.


    His girlfriend was named Amanda Smith, six years younger than him and currently pursuing her master''s degree.


    Amanda and Michael were both natives of Eldoria. Michael''s mother and Amanda''s mother had been friends for many years, so he had known Amanda since childhood. But due to their age difference, Michael didn''t pay much attention to the young girl with a childish face until she graduated from college, and he realized how much she had changed.


    With affection from him and interest from her, coupled with their families'' relationship, Michael earnestly pursued her. After some time, they started dating, which had now extended to three or four years.


    Rewind six months ago.


    With family urging the young couple to settle down, Michael began planning the proposal after the New Year.


    After all, they were practically living together; he couldn¡¯t keep the girl hanging.


    However, just as he was choosing the engagement ring, Michael noticed something unusual about Amanda.


    His girlfriend started keeping her phone close and her whereabouts became elusive. Michael occasionally caught her smiling at her phone, which made him uncomfortable, so he casually tested the waters.


    To his surprise, Amanda calmly handed him her phone, saying it was just chatting with her girlfriends. She gave him free rein to check her WeChat and Email.

 Chapter 4

    Given her transparency, Michael certainly couldn''t bring himself to scrutinize her chat history.


    Moreover, spreading such suspicions would be futile; none of his friends would believe it. They all insisted that if either of them were to stray, it would undoubtedly be Michael, not the demure and well-behaved Amanda.


    Michael wondered if he was suffering from pre-wedding jitters, causing him to be overly suspicious.


    He convinced himself to think generously and continued with the proposal preparations.


    However, the small, stinging doubt in his heart remained, steadily leaking discomfort.


    By early May, a friend inexplicably asked about his relationship with Amanda.


    Michael grew suspicious and pressed for answers, eventually feigning distress to extract the truth. Reluctantly, his friend confessed to seeing Amanda at a Valeria hotel during the May Day holiday.


    The friend, there with his own mistress, spotted Amanda walking in arm-in-arm with another man. He didn''t greet Amanda, fearing the awkwardness, but knowing Michael was planning a surprise proposal, he felt compelled to inform him.


    Life is long, and wearing a cuckold''s hat occasionally is inevitable.


    But once or twice is enough; one must cut losses in time. Wearing it perpetually is not an option, as that color is far from flattering.


    Michael''s mind buzzed. Amanda had indeed gone to Valeria during the holiday, supposedly with her girlfriends, as evidenced by numerous Disneyland photos on her social media.


    Wait, something was amiss.


    No other women appeared in those photos.


    It was either solo shots of Amanda or ones with Mickey and Minnie, or scenic views of the park.


    Michael checked Amanda''s social media again, finding only the last three days visible.


    However, among the visible photos was one from a dinner with "girlfriends" two days prior.


    As he recalled, it similarly featured only the restaurant''s setting, the dishes, and Amanda''s selfies, but no girlfriends.


    Endless suspicions sprouted like bamboo shoots after rain. Michael kept quiet and didn¡¯t confront her. Instead, he discreetly hired a private investigator.


    Unexpectedly, Amanda, the supposedly innocent girl, had impressive counter-surveillance skills. It took nearly half a month for Michael to learn the lover''s identity.


    Anderson, thirty-four, not a local, stayed in Star Harbor after university, running an e-commerce company.


    When and where they had started their affair was still unknown. Michael squinted at the photo of the handsome, tall, and slender man with a gentle smile, thinking, so Amanda prefers this type of "cultured scoundrel."


    Indeed, quite different from himself.


    Another detail in the report piqued Michael¡¯s interest.


    The man was married. His wife, named Emily, was a well-known food blogger who had published several cookbooks.


    Curiosity got the better of Michael, and he soon found Emily¡¯s social media.


    She had many followers and high engagement, with fans affectionately calling her ¡°Jiji.¡±


    Michael scoffed, thinking they sounded like a bunch of little mice.


    He discovered one could purchase ¡°Jiji¡¯s¡± online cooking classes on a culinary app. For $9.99, he bought a tutorial on ¡°Three Ways to Cook Beef Brisket.¡±


    The woman in the video exuded the quintessential homemaker vibe.


    The kind who would spend all day in the kitchen, making soups, meals, and desserts, and then rush out to greet her husband with a smile as soon as he walked through the door.


    She meticulously explained each step and detail, her ponytail bobbing slightly, her makeup minimal, occasionally pushing up her black-rimmed glasses.


    Her round face, round eyes, and even her round figure matched the cartoon character on her apron.


    Michael revisited Emily¡¯s social media, noting that most of her daily posts were about her meals, be it Chinese, Western, Japanese, or Korean cuisine¡ªshe had it all.


    Her followers praised her endlessly, saying her husband was fortunate to have such a wife.


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    ¡°Fortunate indeed,¡± Michael thought bitterly.


    Michael was no naive young man, but neither did he indulge in playing the field. He took every relationship seriously, whether he pursued the woman or vice versa.


    Especially with Amanda, he had intended to spend the rest of his life with her. But this sudden twist felt like a slap in the face.


    The more he scrolled through Emily¡¯s posts, the angrier he became, feeling his eyes turning green with envy.


    Why did Anderson get to sleep with someone else''s wife and still have homemade meals?


    This woman must be foolish.


    Her husband was out having affairs, and she still cooked all these delicious meals for him?


    In a moment of heated frustration, Michael obtained a disposable phone card and texted Emily the simple message:


    "Your husband is cheating on you."


    ......


    "There, in front."


    From afar, the white BMW''s rear was now visible. Emily unknowingly leaned forward, as if that would grant her a clearer view. "Is that the way to your place? Was Amanda awake when you left?"


    Since getting into the car, Emily hadn''t stopped talking, asking questions, narrating, sometimes even answering herself.


    Michael could sense her unusual anxiety and excitement today.


    And a lot of fear.


    His chest ached with a dull pain, and his clenched back teeth softened.


    Michael regretted it once more. He shouldn¡¯t have dragged Emily into this mess.


    Michael suddenly recalled his first phone call with Emily.


    Initially, the phone used solely to contact Emily was often turned off, but every few hours, Michael would power it on, hoping to see if she had sent a message.


    Gradually, he found himself checking more and more frequently, aware he shouldn''t but unable to resist. When no new messages arrived for days, he would vaguely hope for some new piece of evidence.


    His mindset was twisted; his own suffering wasn¡¯t enough¡ªhe needed to drag someone else into the misery.


    What was this? Some kind of ¡°Green Lantern¡± alliance?


    Sending over intimate photos of the two lovers, he received a barrage of angry messages from Emily. Reading the incessant texts, Michael found himself laughing out loud.


    How strange it was, that mere words seemed to convey her voice¡ªurgent, furious, fearful, blustering, and fundamentally insecure.


    That call was a genuine accident; Michael hadn¡¯t intended to answer.


    Indeed, he shouldn''t have, as their relationship was already complicated enough, and further contact with Emily was ill-advised.


    Yet, against his better judgment, his thumb pressed the answer button.


    He realized then that he too was just a blusterer, masking his racing heartbeat and feigning calm as he greeted her.


    ¡°I¡¯m the husband of your husband¡¯s lover,¡± he said, and his heart immediately leapt into his throat.


    He heard the woman on the other end gasp, his ear tingling, and his heart felt as if it were plummeting.


    He didn¡¯t press her, waiting for Emily to absorb the information.


    After a moment, he heard her trembling voice ask, ¡°Do you have children?¡±


    Now it was Michael¡¯s turn to be at a loss. He and Amanda weren¡¯t even married yet, let alone having children.


    He didn¡¯t answer, instead suggesting, ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain over the phone. Why don¡¯t we meet in person? Face-to-face, we can discuss this properly.¡±


    Emily hung up, and Michael thought she had been scared off again. But five minutes later, he received a message.


    A time, a restaurant, a private room number.


    Concise and clear.


    Michael raised an eyebrow. Had she just taken control of the situation?


    He texted, "So, will you be catching them in the act at the hotel?"


    This time, he received no reply.


    The hotel room number had been provided by someone else and, while accurate, there was a time lag.


    In other words, by the time they reached the hotel, the two might have already finished their rendezvous and gone home.


    Sure enough, as Michael awaited Emily¡¯s response, Amanda called, laughingly saying she was going to the supermarket and asking if he would like steak for dinner, which she would cook for him.


    Michael, injecting as much regret into his voice as possible, declined, saying his sister had arranged a meeting to discuss the shop, and he could hear Amanda''s slight disappointment. He patiently consoled her.


    That night, he stayed late at the seafood shop before going home, where Amanda was already asleep. Seeing her phone on the bedside table, he ultimately did nothing and went to the bathroom to wash up.


    He lay silently on the bed, turned away from his girlfriend, unable to sleep.


    He was no longer thinking about Amanda and her lover at the Mandarin Oriental but about what he would say to Emily when they met the next day.


    The following morning, Michael dropped Amanda off at school before heading back to the city for the meeting.


    He arrived half an hour early and was considering asking the waiter for more water when the private room door opened.


    Emily walked in, catching Michael mid-sip, his mouth still open in surprise.


    He thought to himself, the camera does add some pounds.


    Emily, possibly flustered or angry, was visibly redder than usual.


    It was raining heavily outside, and Emily, who hadn¡¯t driven, was holding a wet floral umbrella. Her hair and the hem of her dress were damp.


    Truthfully, she looked a bit bedraggled, yet her still-damp face resembled a dewy peach.


    The room¡¯s atmosphere was tense and awkward, with neither speaking. Fortunately, the manager knocked and entered, asking if they were ready to order.


    Michael rotated the lazy Susan, pushing the heavy menu towards Emily, indicating she should order.


    Emily ignored the menu, wiping her hair with a tissue while deftly naming dishes to the manager.


    After the manager left, Michael stood, extending his arm to pour tea into Emily¡¯s porcelain cup, and casually asked, ¡°Did you go to the hotel yesterday?¡±


    Emily''s eyes showed a hint of wariness as she shook her head. ¡°Of course not. I couldn¡¯t immediately verify the truth of your message. What if it was all a hoax?¡±


    Pausing for a few seconds, she murmured, ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t even know who you are.¡±


    Michael chuckled, no longer stringing her along, and introduced himself, answering her earlier question, ¡°I don¡¯t have any children. But Ms. Emily Johnson, I¡¯m curious, what does having children have to do with infidelity?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t, really... I just think that a parent¡¯s infidelity, regardless of how it¡¯s handled later, will inevitably affect the child¡¯s upbringing,¡± Emily said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness. ¡°It makes me more anxious.¡±


    .......


    A car ahead braked suddenly, and though Michael was multitasking, he managed to stop in time, halting his reverie.


    Emily, restrained by her seatbelt, exclaimed, ¡°Oof¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I braked too hard.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Emily adjusted her glasses, looking worried, ¡°It seems there¡¯s been a rear-end collision up ahead.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Seeing the driver of the car that had braked get out and turn on his hazard lights, Michael quickly reversed, sharply turning the wheel to escape the growing traffic jam before it could trap them.

 Chapter 5

    Glancing over to see Emily licking her lips once more, Michael sighed lightly in his heart.


    Turning the steering wheel to the right, he veered onto a side road, quickly pulling over. Emily was puzzled: "Why did you stop the car?"


    "Just wait a minute, I''m going to buy something." Michael pressed the hazard lights, unbuckled his seatbelt with a snap, and raised a corner of his mouth, saying, "Don''t worry, even if I''m five minutes late, I can catch up."


    After saying this, he got out of the car and dashed into a nearby supermarket.


    Emily was still somewhat anxious. She retrieved her phone, repeatedly refreshing the GPS location on her watch.


    Soon Michael returned, tossing a bottle of mineral water into her lap as he got back into the car: "Drink up, your mouth must be dry."


    Fresh from the cold cabinet, the mineral water bottle was covered in dew, its coolness seeping through his fingertips, easing Emily''s anxious heart a little.


    She murmured a low thank you, unscrewing the cap and taking a couple sips.


    "Don''t mention it." Michael muttered, starting the car again. Seeing Emily with her phone again, he clicked his tongue and, without much thought, snatched it away: "Stop staring at it, the more you look, the more anxious you get."


    The warmth of his fingertips brushed against the palm of her left hand. Emily blinked and made a sound, quietly holding the mineral water bottle with both hands.


    This seemed to slightly alleviate the itching sensation spreading from her palm.


    True to his word, Michael quickly closed the distance with the target vehicle.


    Unexpectedly, Anderson actually returned to the office.


    Anderson''s company was in an office building above a subway station, sharing parking with the mall below. It was a bit old, with dim lights, mottled walls, and uneven floors.


    Michael waited until the GPS on their phones was completely still before driving into the parking lot. Anderson rented a private parking space, and with Emily''s guidance, Michael quickly found the white BMW.


    It was only then that Emily slapped her forehead in regret and exclaimed, "Oh, I completely forgot! The watch is hidden in the car, not on his person. The vertical positioning function is useless!"


    Michael thought she would say more, but upon hearing her only just remember now, he couldn''t help but laugh: "I knew that. I thought of it when you mentioned it just now."


    Emily widened her eyes: "Then why didn''t you remind me?"


    Recalling how she had just rattled on about how great the children''s watch was to Michael, she felt like a salesperson who hadn''t met her monthly sales target.


    Michael looked around for a parking space while grinning: "Seeing you so well-prepared, I didn''t want to dampen your enthusiasm."


    Flushed with embarrassment, Emily raised an eyebrow at him, choosing not to continue the argument.


    The vertical positioning feature may have been useless, but this little gadget had another "ace" function that she hadn''t told Michael about yet.


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    Most of the parking spaces near the elevator had already been taken, so Michael circled around without finding a suitable spot. Planning to make another loop, the car moved slowly and was about to pass the white BMW when Emily suddenly covered her face with both hands and shifted her body down.


    Michael frowned, becoming alert: "What''s wrong?"


    Emily murmured softly, "There''s a dashcam in the car. I''m afraid it''ll capture me."


    The steering wheel seemed to transform into some kind of plant with soft thorns, prickling her palms with an itching and numb sensation.


    "Don''t hide." Michael resisted the urge to ruffle her hair and said in a deep voice, "You haven''t done anything wrong, there''s no need to hide."


    Michael parked the car in a spot a few rows away from the white BMW, with a slight turn between them. The position was somewhat distant, but it offered a clear view of the elevator entrance.


    He turned off the lights, switched to external circulation, and left the windows slightly ajar, allowing the air conditioner to run for a bit longer before shutting off the car.


    Emily retrieved her phone and fished a charging cable from her backpack. "Can I use your car charger?"


    Not knowing how long they would need to tail Anderson, she needed to keep an eye on her phone''s battery.


    "Of course."


    Michael gestured for her to go ahead, while he took out his own phone and opened WeChat.


    His thick eyebrows arched slightly as he saw a message from Amanda, sent five minutes ago, informing him that she had a lunch date with some friends at TaiKoo Hui for sushi.


    When Michael had first started dating Amanda, he had treated her group of friends to several meals. However, due to differences in age, education, family background, and social circles, he found little common ground with them.


    Eventually, Michael only financed their outings, rarely joining Amanda¡¯s gatherings. Though he had politely added a few of her friends on WeChat, he never chatted with them privately.


    In truth, Michael was well aware that, in Amanda¡¯s friends¡¯ eyes, he was merely a rustic rich kid with a decent family background and some money to his name. Not a graduate of an elite school, no overseas experience, and incapable of pronouncing complex French words correctly, he lacked the refined demeanor of those upper-class elites who spent all day boasting with a cigar in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.


    To create an opportunity for their rendezvous, Michael, like Emily, had given Amanda a mix of truth and fabrication. Emily claimed she was attending classes in Shenzhen, while Michael, busy with his seafood shop, told Amanda he would be out of town for two days, returning on Sunday evening.


    Amanda had shown some displeasure, complaining about how Michael was always busy with the store. After some coaxing and transferring a substantial sum for her to spend on shopping and dining with her friends, she reluctantly forgave him.


    Michael didn¡¯t respond to her message, as he was supposedly ¡°driving on the highway¡± and unable to check his phone conveniently.


    He reported to his "ally": ¡°They¡¯re likely going to TaiKoo Hui for lunch.¡±


    Emily was surprised: ¡°Did you get a tip?¡±


    Michael nodded: ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    Emily quietly exhaled in relief and turned to look at him.


    The man before her was tall and sturdy, his broad shoulders blocking much of the dim light from outside the window. The faint remaining light formed a halo around his short hair, making it look soft and inviting to touch.


    His prominent brow and high-bridged nose stood out more clearly in the backlight, as if carved by a sculptor.


    Sensing her gaze, Michael looked up: ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡±


    Emily¡¯s eyes were earnest and sincere as she replied, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Michael, taken aback by her seriousness, stammered a bit: ¡°Th-thank you for what?¡±


    Emily shifted her gaze, retrieved a cloth from her bag, and began cleaning her glasses. ¡°I have to thank you. You really didn¡¯t have to help me.¡±


    Michael shrugged and said, ¡°I help you, and you help me. We share the same goal.¡±


    Her hand paused briefly before continuing.


    Emily¡¯s objective was clear. Her husband¡¯s infidelity, to the point where the other party¡¯s partner had come knocking, left her with little time to decide.


    She wanted to end this marriage mired in deception.


    Though she could hire someone to catch her husband cheating, Emily knew her own weaknesses. She needed to see it with her own eyes to believe it.


    Additionally, if she didn¡¯t have enough evidence and confronted Anderson, she knew she wouldn¡¯t hold up under scrutiny and would likely be defeated in the argument.


    She needed substantial proof to fight this battle swiftly; dragging it out would only leave her emotionally drained.


    But was Michael¡¯s goal merely to gather evidence and break up with his girlfriend?


    Emily wasn¡¯t sure, but she didn¡¯t ask further.


    She put on her now spotless glasses: ¡°Do you want me to ask someone in the company to keep an eye on Anderson?¡±


    She often made cakes and cookies to send to Anderson¡¯s office for the employees¡¯ afternoon tea, maintaining a fairly decent relationship with several female colleagues.

 Chapter 6

    One of her new colleagues was even a fan of hers, frequently interacting on her social media posts.


    "No need. Let''s just wait here. It''s ten o''clock now; they probably won''t move until lunchtime."


    Michael, cramped in the small car, adjusted the seat all the way back, stretching his legs slightly. "As soon as Amanda leaves the house, I''ll know right away."


    To avoid any misunderstanding, he explained, "My house has an electronic peephole that sends an app alert whenever there''s movement at the door."


    Emily murmured, "Oh," and then softly added, "Remember that case last week? A girl was followed by a stranger but was saved because her door had an electronic peephole that captured the suspect''s image... I suggested to Anderson that we install one at our home too, but he refused."


    Michael was checking the app for the electronic peephole and absentmindedly asked, "Why wouldn''t he agree?"


    After a few seconds of silence without Emily''s response, he realized the implication.


    Oh, that''s why...


    Michael turned to her, mouth agape, unsure of what to say.


    It seemed that no matter what he said, it would be inappropriate. He could only curse Anderson with every foul word he knew.


    Growing up on the rough streets of Yide Road, Michael might not have had impressive academic credentials, but he was certainly a "doctorate" level in fighting and swearing.


    Emily met his gaze and smiled quietly, a smile that carried layers of emotions: a hint of sadness, helplessness, and a shadow of apology.


    Michael straightened slightly and cursed, "How dare he? D*mn it!"


    To his surprise, Emily consoled him instead: "But this is just my suspicion... The reality might be different."


    "Still, the reason I''m so desperate to get evidence is that I''ve been stuck in this emotional turmoil for so long. It''s driving me crazy. Every small suspicion gets magnified in my mind, leading to endless anxiety and overthinking."


    She sighed, turning her face slightly to look at the familiar white sedan in the distance, her voice steady. "Anderson¡¯s infidelity, if confirmed, wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world. I just want to know the whole truth and then make a clean break."


    This issue had festered for too long, like leftovers rotting in the fridge. No matter how high-quality the ingredients were or how skilled the cook, it was beyond saving now.


    Michael was still searching for the right words when his stomach growled loudly.


    In the confined space of the car, with no music and no conversation, Emily naturally heard it. She turned and asked, "Didn''t you have breakfast this morning?"


    "No, I haven''t eaten yet." His ears felt like they were burning, and Michael tried to hunch over to muffle the sound from his stomach. "I left too early, then got caught up with changing the car and other things..."


    But his stomach growled again, louder and more pitifully.


    The car fell silent, the earlier noise seeming even more pronounced.


    Despite his usual bravado, Michael felt embarrassed. He awkwardly offered, "I-I''ll go upstairs and get some McDonald''s... What about you? Do you want anything?"


    Emily shook her head, "No need to buy anything. I brought food."


    She reached back and pulled a lunch bag from the rear seat, taking out a sandwich and handing it to Michael. "Here, take this. I made four."


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    Michael accepted the still-warm sandwich, "You made this?"


    "Yes, this morning."


    Without pretense, Michael unwrapped the sandwich and took a large bite, devouring a third of it in one go.


    His eyes lit up, and he praised without hesitation, "This is delicious!"


    Emily''s eyes curved into crescent moons as she smiled confidently, "Of course."


    In the end, Michael couldn''t resist and ate two sandwiches. He was so full that he burped, making Emily press her lips together, stifling a laugh.


    They chatted intermittently about what they might have been doing if not for this "mission." Emily would have attended a masterclass and then spent two days exploring the city with friends, trying new private kitchens or coffee shops, or crossing the border to enjoy a long-missed bowl of clear broth brisket in Hong Kong. Michael, on the other hand, would have driven hundreds of kilometers to the seaside fishing village to collect various dried goods from familiar fishermen. If the goods he sought weren¡¯t available in one village, he¡¯d travel along the coast to several others.


    Emily was quite intrigued by the process of collecting sea delicacies and asked numerous questions about dried seafood, which Michael answered in detail. Their conversation became increasingly engrossing, ranging from dried shrimp to scallops, dried abalone to sea cucumbers, spending nearly half an hour just discussing the nuances of genuine fish maw.


    They shared an unspoken understanding, deliberately avoiding topics related to personal relationships.


    After a while, Michael glanced at the time, nearly eleven o''clock, and abruptly apologized, "Sorry, I tend to get carried away when talking about the family business."


    In his line of work, Michael¡¯s expertise lay in dried seafood. He often discussed this with his family, but rarely with friends or lovers. Amanda, for instance, showed little interest in the shop''s business.


    Emily, feeling a bit parched, took a sip of mineral water, "It''s fine. I''m quite interested in various ingredients. Once I¡¯ve dealt with my family matters, I''ll visit your shop to pick out some goods."


    Michael''s grin was hearty, "Sure, just let me know before you come."


    Having finished his bottle of water, while Emily still had half of hers, Michael suggested she stay in the car while he went to the mall''s supermarket to replenish supplies.


    "If ¡®he¡¯ drives off, don¡¯t rush. Wait for me to return before we follow." Michael instructed before getting out.


    He didn¡¯t specify who ¡°he¡± referred to, but Emily understood and softly replied, "Got it."


    Michael first went to the restroom for a smoke and then to the supermarket on the third floor. He grabbed a case of mineral water, a pack of tissues, and some biscuits and cakes, filling the cart to the brim.


    While waiting at the checkout, his phone vibrated, alerting him that the electronic peephole at home detected movement. Amanda had left the house.


    Just then, Emily''s WeChat message arrived: "He''s here!!!!" Multiple exclamation marks. Michael hesitated for a moment, then couldn''t help but chuckle, covering his mouth.


    He had told her not to rush.


    Returning to the parking lot, Anderson''s car had already left. Michael returned to the Toyota, tossing the "supplies" into the back seat.


    Emily''s eyes widened, "You bought so much!"


    "Better to be prepared," Michael replied, starting the car without even fastening his seatbelt, "How long has he been gone? Did he see you?"


    "About three minutes. I don¡¯t think he saw me; I was practically hiding under the seat..." Emily said, trying to update the location on her phone, but the signal was poor.


    "Alright, let''s check again once we''re above ground."


    Reaching the surface, the sky was still overcast. Emily squinted slightly to adjust to the light.


    The location updated, showing Anderson had driven some distance. Michael followed the direction.


    The gap closed, and Michael mentally mapped the route, tapping the steering wheel, "I thought he¡¯d cross the river."


    Michael¡¯s current residence was in Riverside West. He assumed Anderson would cross the river to pick up Amanda, giving them a chance to take some photos or videos.


    But Anderson drove straight towards Shipai Bridge, likely heading directly to Taikoo Hui.


    Ten minutes later, Anderson entered Taikoo Hui''s parking lot, while Michael lingered on the surface before following.


    On a weekday morning, Taikoo Hui was sparsely populated. The parking lot was empty except near the mall entrance. Michael circled the lot as Emily peered out, cautiously searching for Anderson''s car.


    They found it after a few minutes. Anderson was no longer inside. Michael parked at a distance where they could still see the white BMW.


    By now, it was half-past eleven. Emily, in her assumed persona, should have been in the city.


    She tried calling Anderson, but he didn¡¯t answer. She sent him a WeChat message, and after a while, he replied, "Still in a meeting, will call you later."


    Despite being mentally prepared to face her husband''s lies, her heart still sank uncontrollably.


    In the small car, Michael couldn¡¯t avoid seeing the message on her phone. He scoffed impatiently, "Meeting, my foot."


    Emily sighed deeply, then found some photos in her album from a trip to the city two weeks ago. She selected a few pictures of the hotel room and sent them to Anderson.


    Yes, she had preemptively "duplicated" this trip last week, secretly, without Anderson knowing. A round trip in one day, matching today¡¯s itinerary exactly.


    She had visited several cafes and light food places, eating until she was full, taking many photos to fill this "blank" three-day period.


    As for the Japanese dessert masterclass, a close friend of hers was attending and could lend her a few photos if needed.

 Chapter 7

    As an "ally," Michael was the sole confidant. No, to be precise, it was Michael who taught her the art of fabricating fake itineraries. That day, Emily was like a diligent student, sending him photos she had taken to seek her "teacher''s" approval, ensuring no gaps were left unfilled.


    Michael felt a twinge of guilt, as if he had led a respectable woman astray. After sending the photos to Anderson, Emily added a few messages, reminding him not to skip meals because of work, that she was about to have lunch, and so on. Once she finished her "reporting," it was Michael''s turn.


    Michael dialed directly, and unlike Anderson, Amanda answered. Her sweet voice emanated from the phone, audible to Emily, whose heart sank further. Just by looking at the photos, Emily had already understood that this young woman was of a completely different type from her. Now, hearing her voice, Amanda''s image became even more vivid in her mind.


    Michael spoke to his girlfriend with a weary tone, mentioning that he had reached a highway service area, had a bowl of noodles, and was preparing to take a nap in the car. He then inquired about her lunch plans. Amanda''s voice was calm, saying she had just arrived at Taikoo Hui and was about to go upstairs, urging Michael to rest well and drive safely. Michael chuckled softly, responded with "Okay," and waited for her to hang up before his smile gradually faded.


    Emily watched his smile disappear bit by bit, like a sunset on the horizon. The atmosphere in the car grew less relaxed than an hour ago. Michael, craving a cigarette, grabbed his pack and told Emily, "I''m stepping out for a smoke."


    Emily nodded, not objecting. She recalled that during their recent meetings, Michael always carried the scent of tobacco, sometimes faint, sometimes strong, but he never smoked in front of her. He either smoked during bathroom breaks or after they parted.


    After he stepped out, Emily''s gaze followed a few seconds later, catching him already lighting his cigarette. The glowing ember flickered on and off, soon engulfing his profile in white smoke. Emily noticed him gazing fixedly at a sign above, and she followed his line of sight.


    The sign read "Mandarin Oriental Hotel," reminding Emily that the hotel was connected to Taikoo Hui, with an entrance directly leading to the hotel lobby. In the messages Michael had sent, the hotel mentioned was also the Mandarin Oriental.


    Could they be planning to have lunch and then head upstairs to a room?


    When Michael returned after his smoke, Emily couldn''t wait to ask if that was a possibility.


    "Yes, I thought of that too," Michael said, opening the car window slightly to disperse the smoke. "I''ve already asked someone to keep an eye out. If there''s any room booking information for them, I''ll be informed."


    He looked at Emily, his usual nonchalance replaced with a serious expression. "Emily, are you mentally prepared?"


    Last time, there was a time gap, but this time they were waiting right here in the parking lot, just a step away from following them upstairs. As soon as he received confirmation of their check-in, he could go to the front desk, book a room, and use the key card to go upstairs, catching them in the act.


    Then what? Michael thought. He might not be able to restrain his fists, landing a few punches on that hypocrite''s face to vent Emily''s anger...


    Wait, no¡­ Anderson was the one sleeping with his girlfriend. Shouldn''t his anger be directed at that?


    The parking lot was much brighter than before, and a faint light shone in Michael''s deep, dark eyes. A tiny spark seemed to ignite within Emily as well, searing her throat and reaching her chest, leaving a small scorch mark on her heart.


    She swallowed, nodded, and said, "Yes, I''m ready."


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    In truth, Emily was uncertain what kind of mental preparation she needed. Years ago, videos of "spouses catching their unfaithful husbands" would occasionally surface online. Emily had fast-forwarded through a few, supposedly about catching adulterous husbands, but in the videos, it was always the mistresses who ended up bruised, disheveled, and barely clothed, unsure whether to cover their faces or their privates.


    Back then, Emily couldn''t bear to watch such scenes, and now, faced with a similar situation, she knew she couldn''t act that way. Confrontations and arguments were not her forte, nor her preference. She braced herself, hoping she wouldn''t falter at the last moment.


    The car grew quiet. Emily''s phone conversation with her husband ended with Anderson''s "Alright, go eat now." Michael repeatedly lit up his phone screen, not to call or text, but simply to check the time before turning it off again. In the span of half an hour, he had stepped out to smoke three times, each time needing to air out before re-entering the car.


    As he reached for the cigarette pack again, Emily gently tugged his sleeve, then quickly let go. Michael turned back. The harsh parking lot lights made Emily''s thick glasses appear opaque, like the well-worn bottom of a glass jar, but her eyes remained clear and resolute, reflecting faint light. She spoke with forced calmness, "Don''t be anxious."


    Michael relaxed slightly, putting away the cigarette pack, and managed a small smile. "I know." For the next two hours, he resisted the urge to smoke, though his anxiety grew. As the lunch hour passed, Michael was about to make a call when Emily suddenly grabbed his arm, shaking it urgently. "Look, Michael, look!"


    Michael nearly dropped his phone. Squinting, he saw their long-awaited targets emerging from the bright mall entrance. Amanda and Anderson walked side by side; his shirt and trousers impeccably pressed, her floral dress fluttering. Though close, they refrained from holding hands, likely to avoid recognition. Anderson carried two shopping bags, one yellow and one black¡ªan LV bag slightly larger, and a Chanel bag, presumably holding a wallet or accessory.


    Emily instinctively ducked, hiding most of herself behind the car door, but she didn''t forget her goal, raising her phone to capture her husband and his lover. The distance was still too great, and her trembling hands struggled to focus the camera, resulting in blurry shots. Michael leaned in, whispering, "Don''t take photos, record a video."


    She hunched over, and he bent down, their proximity becoming almost intimate. Emily''s hands continued to shake, the lens wobbling like autumn leaves. Michael sighed, "Let me do it," taking the phone and recording a few seconds of video before the couple disappeared around a corner.


    When the pair vanished, Michael''s frustration spilled over, cursing under his breath as he checked the video. "It''s a bit shaky, but their faces are visible... It''s progress. Set the GPS, and we''ll follow their car after they leave."


    His words halted abruptly, the phone hanging in mid-air. He stared at Emily, who was covering her face, shaking uncontrollably. At that moment, something inside Michael felt as though a sandslide had begun, his heart sinking. Holding the phone gently, he resisted the urge to embrace her, instead remaining silent, waiting for her to process the harsh reality.


    After about five minutes, Emily''s emotions began to calm. She sat up, avoiding his gaze, her voice hoarse. "I''m alright now. Let''s not lose them..."


    She removed her glasses, wiping the tear-stained lenses with her shirt. A blur of white entered her vision¡ªMichael offering a tissue. Squinting, she realized what it was, and the act of narrowing her eyes released more tears. This time, Michael moved faster, catching the teardrops with the tissue before they fell.


    His voice was rough when he spoke, "No rush."


    In the long nights to come, Michael would often recall this small interlude, a silent, unexpected intrusion into his memory, leaving a lasting impression.


    Ten minutes later, Michael was again tailing the white BMW. Both tacitly ignored Emily''s earlier breakdown, as if the incident had left no scars. Emily even joked about Michael''s skill in tailing cars, suggesting he should become a private investigator. Michael smiled faintly, replying that if his store ever went under, he''d consider a career change.


    Anderson drove north, not towards Emily''s or Michael''s homes. The route suggested destinations like Baiyun Mountain or the airport, making Emily wonder if they had rented a place in the suburbs for their trysts. Traffic thinned as they left the city, and after seven or eight traffic lights, Anderson pulled into Baiyun Mountain''s parking lot.


    Michael paused on a side road nearby. They exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of the couple''s intentions. Despite the overcast afternoon, the air was stifling, hinting at an impending storm. Why would they come here for fresh air?


    Then Michael considered another possibility, his expression darkening as he cursed, "They''re probably looking for a spot for a car rendezvous."


    Emily shared his suspicion, feeling a throbbing pain in her temples. At this hour, few people would come here to hike, meaning the parking lot had plenty of spaces and few visitors.

 Chapter 8

    "Did Anderson bring Amanda here for a car tryst, a wild escapade?" Michael glanced back at the parking lot entrance. "Should I drive in? Otherwise, we won¡¯t see if they¡¯re doing anything in the car..."


    Emily shook her head. "No need, I have a plan." She refreshed her watch''s location tracker, noting Anderson''s car had come to a stop. "The watch has an ''ambient sound listening'' feature..."


    As she explained, she pressed the ''Listen'' button in the app, showing Michael the prompt. "Once activated, the watch will call your phone. You can hear the sounds around the watch but cannot converse."


    Michael raised an eyebrow, noticing the mischievous glint in Emily''s eyes. "So, it''s basically eavesdropping," she admitted with a hint of cunning.


    Michael gave her a thumbs-up and laughed. "If you ever give up being a food blogger, you could join me in ''re-employment''."


    Emily finally managed a faint smile and handed Michael one of her Bluetooth earbuds. They guessed correctly¡ªthe couple was still in the car. The watch''s deep concealment caused fluctuating audio levels, especially with Anderson''s voice being sometimes inaudible, whereas Amanda''s was much clearer. Emily didn''t forget to record.


    The illicit lovers called each other "baby," and Amanda even coquettishly addressed Anderson as "husband" several times, leaving Emily both distressed and trembling. She glanced at Michael, whose face had darkened further.


    Surprisingly, they didn''t get intimate in the car. Amanda had suddenly gotten her period that morning, apologizing and promising to make it up to him later. A long silence followed, with only occasional kisses and Amanda¡¯s murmurs telling her ¡°baby¡± not to kiss too hard, or she¡¯d feel uncomfortable.


    Understanding their activities, Michael was infuriated, moments away from storming into the parking lot to confront Anderson. However, he knew Emily was suffering more from these explicit conversations. Aware the watch couldn¡¯t transmit their voices, he suggested, "Maybe we should stop. Recordings aren''t strong evidence anyway. Let¡¯s end it here?"


    Emily rubbed her aching nose and gave a bitter smile. "I can endure a bit more."


    Though there were only sounds, Emily''s mind conjured vivid images of her husband and Amanda, passionately entangled in the car. Nausea churned within her chest, her mouth dry, feeling the urge to vomit.


    Noticing her pallor, Michael quickly handed her a piece of chocolate from their morning grocery run. "Have a bite, you don¡¯t want low blood sugar."


    Feeling unwell, Emily accepted, biting into it. Her action, unaware at first, seemed intimate like a shared piece of chocolate. Michael paused, placing the rest in the cup holder.


    As their conversation grew more explicit, Michael and Emily understood what was happening. Men have a tendency to assert dominance, even in affairs. Anderson suddenly asked, "Just squeezing your n*ppl*s makes you this weak? Hmm? Hasn''t your man been satisfying you? Still finishing quickly?"


    Emily¡¯s mind went blank. Such a short sentence contained so much information! She felt a complex mix of emotions, her pale cheeks flushing faintly. Glancing sideways, she saw Michael¡¯s intense reaction: his brows furrowed, jaw clenched, and veins throbbing as his fists tightened.


    Emily wanted to stop listening. "Maybe we should stop here... We shouldn¡¯t listen anymore..."


    Before she could hang up, Amanda¡¯s sultry voice came through the earphones, mixed with moans and a plaintive complaint. "Yeah, and lately, he can''t even get it up. He''s worse than a toy."


    "I really don''t... How could I possibly...!"


    This was the fifth time Michael wanted to refute his girlfriend''s slander, but many words couldn''t escape his lips when facing Emily.


    Initially, he habitually wanted to curse "that vile woman," but considering Amanda''s body wasn''t vile at all, he restrained his foul mouth a bit.


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    Following Anderson''s car out of the Baiyun Mountain parking lot for over ten minutes, Michael was still on the brink of an explosive rage.


    He couldn''t comprehend, after years of relationship, how Amanda could so easily and heartlessly speak such baseless lies to another man.


    Him? Finished in seconds? Unable to perform?


    Impossible!


    Every morning he woke up as hard as steel!


    "Don''t believe what she says. I have no issues in that regard, none at all..."


    For some reason, Michael instinctively wanted to clarify to Emily that he had no unmentionable ailment.


    Scratching his head heavily, he candidly confessed his thoughts, "Let''s put it this way: ever since I found out she was seeing someone else, I''ve unconsciously avoided her... So from her perspective, she probably thinks I can''t perform."


    Since discovering Amanda''s infidelity, Michael had viewed intimacy with her as a monstrous flood, rejecting her advances over the past few months with excuses of physical discomfort and mental fatigue.


    Women always say men think with their lower halves, but that''s not entirely true. Whether he could perform depended on who it was.


    "Don''t worry, I didn''t believe her! Truly!" Emily hurriedly assured.


    When she heard Amanda''s "complaints," her face had already turned beet red, trying her best to keep her inner turmoil from showing.


    Between Michael and Amanda, Emily naturally trusted the former more.


    She also knew the words Michael couldn''t utter, but there was no need for him to explain.


    Perhaps to show her "trust," Emily, in a moment of flustered sincerity, blurted, "You''re tall and strong, you don''t look like ''that kind of person''."


    Michael''s eyelids twitched, slightly surprised.


    He smirked and teased, "What kind of person?"


    "...That kind." Emily''s voice grew quieter, pointing shyly at a men''s urology hospital they passed, mumbling, "Like that."


    Immediately feeling embarrassed, she looked down at her phone to change the topic: "It seems our ''mission'' is ending early this time."


    The adulterous couple in the parking lot had been entwined for nearly an hour, with fewer coherent words and more indistinct panting.


    Amanda, silent for a while, didn''t speak, but Anderson''s intermittent praises¡ª"How do you lick so well, baby?" "Go deeper," and "I''ll reward you"¡ªwere clear.


    All the emotional fortifications couldn''t hold. Years of love and marriage were shattered by these bombs, leaving only a ruin tainted with soot.


    Even a glance felt dirty.


    Anger, shame, sadness, and anxiety churned within.


    At that moment, Emily felt like a washing machine, tumbling together clothes that should never be mixed, creating a tangled, discolored mess.


    And yet, a hint of relief emerged.


    Emily was relieved that Anderson''s crude words during passion provided enough recorded evidence to shock.


    This recording of their tryst was enough for Michael.


    Though he didn''t need many reasons to break up with Amanda, nor did he plan to use this evidence to embarrass her, it was essential to retain some leverage, lest the truth be twisted.


    He asked Emily, "Do you need more evidence? If so, I won''t confront Amanda yet."


    Amanda''s period meant no more trysts for a few days, making their painstakingly arranged free time seem wasted.


    Emily pondered seriously, "Can I get back to you later? I need to organize today''s timeline and evidence to see if it''s sufficient."


    Michael nodded, "Sure, your matters are more complicated than mine. If you can''t continue investigating yourself, I can find someone to keep tailing them."


    Emily tucked her swaying hair behind her ear and whispered, "Okay, thank you."


    Heading towards Binhai West, Michael guessed Anderson would take Amanda home.


    The ring road was clear, and cars sped along their lanes. Michael didn''t follow too closely, tapping the steering wheel intermittently. After a while, he asked, "Where will you stay tonight?"


    Ironically, though they both had homes, neither could return.


    "I already found a place..." Emily answered vaguely, "What about you?"


    "I''ll book a hotel room," Michael joked, "Maybe spend a night at the Mandarin Oriental."


    He didn''t press her for details.


    Emily knew he was joking and smiled faintly, not asking where he would stay either.


    Anderson dropped Amanda off at the complex''s entrance. Michael stayed back, watching the butterfly-like woman carrying a paper bag, walking towards the gate.


    He thought, once this was over, he would get the gate card back from Amanda and change the password on the house lock.


    As Anderson''s car drove away, Michael also pulled out.


    He said, "It''s still early, shall we follow a bit longer?"


    Emily hesitated, unsure whether to continue. Since Michael decided, she spared herself the dilemma, nodding, "Okay, thank you."


    "Don''t mention it." Michael glanced sideways at her, disliking her polite distance.


    Anderson''s next move was irrelevant to him.


    He impulsively floored the gas pedal.


    Michael just didn''t want today''s "mission" to end prematurely.


    Anderson returned to the office.


    Michael sneered sarcastically, "Mr. Anderson is quite the workaholic."


    Emily couldn''t laugh; something felt off to her, a sense of disconnection.


    Michael noticed her pale face, his heart clenched, thinking he had upset her with his chatter: "I sometimes ramble nonsense, don''t take it to heart."


    Emily realized the misunderstanding and shook her head, "It''s nothing. Should we keep following? He returned to the office, I don''t know when he''ll leave."

 Chapter 9

    "Wow! Jiji, your cooking is simply divine!"


    "Jiji, your latte art is becoming more impressive by the day! Any recommendations for beans recently? I want to try grinding and brewing some at home!"


    "Your husband is so lucky to have your meals every day (drooling). I wish I could come over and share a meal at your place!"


    ...


    Emily, growing increasingly anxious, scrolled through past posts, examining every comment.


    Every remark from the user with the ID "Most Beautiful Fireworks" was swiftly screenshotted without a second thought.


    This person was the very girl who had just gotten into Anderson''s car.


    Her real name was Sophia, though Emily couldn''t remember the exact year she was born. All she knew was that Sophia was a recent graduate who had interned at Anderson''s company during her senior year and was hired full-time after graduation.


    Feeling a lump in her throat, Emily forced herself to swallow in an attempt to ease the discomfort.


    It barely helped.


    The sky was gloomy, but the streetlights had yet to turn on.


    The white light from the phone screen reflected off Emily''s glasses, moving rapidly, like shards of broken shells, their sharp edges scraping Michael''s eyes.


    The furrow between his brows had remained since their time at the parking lot.


    "I was so foolish... Because we knew each other ''privately,'' I always liked her comments."


    Emily let out a bitter laugh. "Friend, yes, I even considered her a friend."


    Remembering something, she opened Sophia''s WeChat and started scrolling.


    Sophia would occasionally ask her questions about cooking or baking. Just last month, Sophia had asked for advice on cooking a meal for her boyfriend, unsure about the sequence of a few dishes, so she turned to Emily.


    At that time, Emily already knew about her husband''s infidelity, but she had been so focused on Amanda, the "clear target," that she overlooked other suspicious details.


    Looking back now, the dishes Sophia had asked about were all ones that Anderson enjoyed, dishes Emily had mentioned in her posts and moments.


    And back then, Emily had earnestly guided Sophia on how to prepare them.


    Emily''s glasses kept slipping down her nose today. She pushed them up and glanced at the familiar street name on the road sign ahead.


    She asked Michael, "Do you know where this road leads?"


    Michael paused for a moment before answering, "Yes, to your home."


    A light laugh came from beside her, as soft as petals falling.


    After a whole day in the car, Emily felt weary. Leaning against the door, she spoke hoarsely, "No, it¡¯s almost not my home anymore."


    The child¡¯s watch, on ¡°listening¡± mode that afternoon, drained quickly. When the battery dropped to 10%, the software chimed, "You have arrived home."


    Michael scoffed. That scoundrel sure knew how to manage his time.


    No matter his purpose for bringing someone home, the act of bringing another woman into his house already constituted infidelity, a stain Anderson could never wash clean, even if he jumped into the Emerald River.


    There might even be others besides this woman...


    The passenger seat was too quiet. At this moment, Emily had reverted to her soft, bun-like self, the filling seemingly cold.


    She didn¡¯t suggest the next course of action, leaving Michael at a loss.


    This was an issue between Emily and Anderson, making him a complete ¡°outsider.¡±


    He sighed, circled around the neighborhood for a while, then found a place to park.


    "What do you plan to do?" Michael directly expressed his stance, "If you want to go upstairs, I''ll accompany you."


    At this point, he couldn''t let Emily face the mess alone. Outnumbered, she was at a disadvantage, and a cornered man could do anything.


    Emily remained leaning against the door, her head resting on the window, fingers tapping the edge of her phone without a word.


    But she didn¡¯t keep Michael waiting long. Straightening up, she raised her hand, pointing to a high-rise building diagonally ahead, "Could you drive there, please?"


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    Following her pointing finger, Michael saw the tall building with a large golden sign in the middle: "Metropolitan Apartments."


    Emily¡¯s voice remained calm, "I rented a short-term apartment there."


    The short-term rental was actually a serviced apartment. As they rode the elevator to the eighteenth floor, Michael asked Emily how much she paid and for how long.


    During the summer peak season, the rate was slightly higher at 450 per night, but since Emily rented it for half a month, the landlord gave her a rate of 410 per night.


    On the shoe cabinet in the entryway, the considerate landlord had left a "Guest Guide" and a "Guestbook."


    Michael, changing into dark blue men''s slippers, casually flipped through a few pages of the guestbook. There were many entries, with guests expressing gratitude, offering suggestions, or using it to express love to their travel companions, hoping to visit Eldoria again together.


    Emily''s beige slippers tapped softly as she pulled her suitcase into the room. When she came out, she found Michael still standing by the door. Like a host, she invited him in, "Come in and have a seat."


    Michael scratched his itchy nose, responded with an "oh," and stepped into the unfamiliar small space.


    The apartment was modest, with one bedroom and one living room.


    At the entrance, a small white table pressed against the wall faced the kitchen, suitable for dining. Beside the kitchen was the bathroom, and a few steps further was the bedroom.


    At the other end of the living room, a fabric sofa and a low coffee table were set, along with a mini balcony. Emily opened the floor-to-ceiling windows to let in some fresh air, the high-rise breeze billowing the sheer curtains.


    In the corner stood a traveler¡¯s palm, its verdant leaves adding life to the confined space. As Michael sat on the sofa, he touched it secretly¡ªit was an artificial plant.


    The air conditioner had just been turned on, leaving the room still stifling. Michael inexplicably felt a burning sensation, particularly a few inches below his chest, as if on fire.


    Although they had spent the entire day in that small car, a space far more uncomfortable than this apartment, Michael found the current atmosphere even stickier.


    Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and wiped it off.


    Emily returned to the room and soon emerged with a tripod and a DSLR, its lens long like a cannon.


    The setup was too professional; even the FBI didn''t use such long lenses, more suited for birdwatching in the wild.


    Michael got up and followed her to the balcony, standing with his hands on his hips behind her. Watching her set up the tripod with a semblance of expertise, he chuckled wryly, ¡°How long have you been planning this?¡±


    ¡°I rented this place a few days ago and got the telephoto lens yesterday because the distance was too great. I tried using my phone, but the pictures were blurry.¡±


    At this point, Emily did not hide anything from him. It was her little "secret."


    Michael asked softly, ¡°Was it because Anderson refused to install a digital peephole?¡±


    Emily, placing the camera on the tripod according to the pre-made markings on the balcony railing, did not look back, ¡°Yes, but even before that, I noticed my things had been tampered with.¡±


    Michael''s eyebrows twitched, ¡°What things?¡±


    He had heard stories about cheating husbands who, when their wives were away, brought their mistresses home, the mistresses brazenly using the wife¡¯s skincare products, carrying her bags, wearing her clothes...


    Emily replied, ¡°It was also last weekend when I went to Fengcheng and came home quite late...¡±


    Michael chimed in, ¡°Oh, I remember, a friend of yours was opening a caf¨¦.¡±


    Emily paused and finally glanced at him, ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    When they added each other on WeChat, she didn¡¯t know if he was friend or foe, so she hadn¡¯t granted him access to her Moments, and it remained so.


    Michael stammered suddenly, ¡°You posted it in your status.¡±


    ¡°...Oh, you¡¯ve been following my updates?¡±


    Michael averted his gaze, ¡°Ah, go on with your story. You came home late last weekend, then what?¡±


    Emily rolled her eyes at him.


    With the camera set up, she bent down, looking through the viewfinder to find the direction, ¡°That night when I got home, I found the positions of my frying pan and saucepan swapped.¡±


    ¡°What? What pans?¡± Michael didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°Just two pans.¡± Emily slowly panned the lens, explaining briefly, ¡°Since you follow my updates, you should know I have a lot of cookware, arranged according to my own habits. I was out all day, and when I came back, the positions of two pans had changed¡­ The cutlery was also different, but the pans were the most obvious; I could see it at a glance.¡±


    She licked her lips and continued, ¡°Anderson doesn¡¯t cook. That night, he said he had to go out for dinner and didn¡¯t eat at home. Until this evening, I thought it was Miss Amanda who had been in my kitchen. I was wrong.¡±


    Michael understood and chuckled softly, ¡°She¡¯s the type who would mix up sugar and salt, not as capable as you.¡±


    The straightforward compliment made Emily¡¯s earlobes burn. Just then, she found her ¡°target¡± in the viewfinder.


    Keeping the camera steady, she slowly straightened, pressing a button to illuminate the screen.


    What the naked eye could not see could be revealed through certain means.


    The telephoto lens was trained on an apartment across several lanes of traffic. The building was roughly the same height as their own, perhaps slightly taller. Through the camera screen, two square, transparent windows framed a bright yellow light. No security bars, no blackout curtains, and a woman busy by the window.


    In today''s world, everyone''s secrets are like paper lanterns, easily pierced.


    The difference lies only in whether your lantern breaks first or mine, nothing more.


    Emily quickly set up the wireless remote, inexplicably exhilarated, like an eager student proving her capability to the teacher. She demonstrated to Michael, snapping several photos, her tone brimming with pride, ¡°Wasn''t it clever of me to think of this?¡±


    The expensive telephoto lens proved its worth, capturing Sophia¡¯s face clearly even in the dim light.


    Michael''s throat itched as if ants were crawling over it, his voice growing somber with the night, ¡°How did you know¡­ this apartment had a view of your kitchen?¡±


    ¡°I spend all my time in the kitchen. Standing at the sink, I can see this building.¡±


    Emily spoke casually, ¡°Sometimes, while waiting for the soup to boil, ribs to stew, or bread to bake¡­ I¡¯d sit on a chair and zone out, then noticed that many units here are short-term rentals. The guests on the balconies change every few days.


    ¡°I didn''t have access to spy cameras and almost got scammed for one. I even considered a drone, tried it at DJI, but it was too loud. I bought several home surveillance cameras, but they were too conspicuous and easily discovered, so I gave up. Finally, I thought of this method¡­¡±


    Her earlier excitement was doused like a splash of ice water.


    Emily¡¯s voice grew softer, ¡°I know, it¡¯s not clever at all, it''s foolish.¡±


    So foolish to be kept in the dark by Anderson for so long.


    So foolish not to notice Sophia¡¯s odd behavior.


    So foolish to have initially aimed at Amanda¡ªEmily¡¯s original plan was to give the photos to Michael, saying, ¡°Mr. Michael, here¡¯s the evidence.¡±


    Suddenly, a large hand reached out from beside her.


    Her body instinctively wanted to dodge, but it was too late, Emily didn¡¯t move in time.


    The hand gently landed, soothingly stroking her hair like comforting a child.


    The man''s voice, warm and humid like a summer evening breeze, carried an ambiguous emotion, ¡°No, Jiji, you¡¯re amazing.¡±

 Chapter 10

    Michael was well aware his actions had gone too far. He wanted to withdraw his hand, but his fingers disobeyed. Trailing down the strands beside her ear, his middle finger hooked slightly, brushing her earlobe.


    In an instant, a series of subtle tremors climbed from her collarbone, erupting into a dazzling display of fireworks in Emily''s mind. She realized she didn¡¯t resist Michael''s slightly audacious gestures. Just like in the cramped Toyota earlier, she had multiple chances to evade or reject him.


    When a hand, starkly different from her own skin tone, grazed her palm; when a breath, hot and close, enveloped her ear; when a tissue tenderly wiped away her tears...


    The boundaries between them blurred with each intimate touch. Perhaps, from their first encounter, their relationship had been shifting subtly.


    Michael finally withdrew his hand and stepped back, his voice deeper than before. "I''m going downstairs to get something to eat. Is there anything you''d like?"


    Emily, having only eaten a sandwich at noon, felt her stomach rumble. But as they drew nearer to their "target," her mind was too consumed with a strange exhilaration to register hunger. She shook her head. "I''m not hungry."


    Predicting her response, Michael tried a different approach. "I''m starving. This is your area. Any restaurants you''d recommend?"


    Emily ignored his question, switching the camera to video mode. Walking to the balcony railing, she pointed across the street. "Over there are two places¡ªone fast food, one Chinese. The fast food joint has tender goose meat with generous portions, and the soup is quite rich. The Chinese place has great roast goose and barbecued pork rice, but at this hour, they might be out."


    The streetlights below had begun to glow softly. Michael found it hard to look away, fixated on her smooth, rounded nails. The warm breeze stirred, igniting his craving for a smoke.


    As she introduced the noodle shop, Emily''s lips pursed slightly, her cheeks puffed. Michael took note.


    "I''m heading down for some food." Michael pointed to the water bottle on the dining table. "Even if you''re not hungry, drink some water. Your lips are getting dry."


    At his words, Emily instinctively licked her lips, moistening them before quickly pulling back. "Okay, you go eat. The apartment access card is on the coffee table," she said. "I''ll text you the password for the lock."


    Michael was still dazed when he reached the roast meat shop. Emily''s moment of lip-licking replayed in his mind. Her pale skin made her tongue look so red, and as it moistened her lips, they took on a richer hue.


    He stood at the fast food shop''s entrance, quickly finishing a cigarette to calm his swirling emotions before stepping inside.


    Michael asked the owner if there was any food left. The owner replied, "You''re in luck," and served him the last bowl. He devoured it in under ten minutes, chugging the remaining soup before grabbing his takeout and leaving.


    A few more steps brought him to the Chinese place. After placing his order, he stepped outside for another cigarette. As he waited, he looked up, trying to locate the eighteenth-floor apartment, hoping for a glimpse of her silhouette.


    But he saw nothing. The building was dark, with only a few scattered lights, none of which belonged to the person he sought.


    "Your noodles are ready!" The shopkeeper''s call snapped Michael back. He was startled by his own thoughts. Ash brushed his arm as it fell.


    He walked briskly on the way back. As he waited for the elevator, he caught the scent of sweat, smoke, and gasoline on his clothes. It reeked, but Emily hadn''t complained.


    He detoured to the second basement to grab his luggage, then headed to the eighteenth floor. Entering the apartment, he set the takeout on the dining table, unwrapping it, and called to Emily, who was still on the balcony. "I got you something to eat. Have a bite."


    "Oh, I said I wasn''t hungry..." Emily protested but came over anyway.


    Michael placed his bag by the sofa, asking, "Mind if I use your bathroom? I need to change. These clothes stink."


    Emily sat at the table, unwrapping the plastic bowl. "Go ahead, but why not take a shower while you''re at it?"


    Michael paused, squinting slightly. "You don''t mind?"


    "Why should I¡ª" Emily abruptly stopped herself. She really should mind...


    Taking her silence as assent, Michael smirked. "Alright, I won''t be shy then." He knelt to retrieve clothes from his bag.


    His broad back and taut muscles stretched his T-shirt smoothly. The hem lifted slightly, the waistband of his jeans lowered, revealing a strip of tanned skin and the edge of his black underwear.


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    Emily stole a few glances before averting her eyes as he stood.


    "The bathroom has towels you can use. I don¡¯t like using public ones, so I brought my own," she muttered.


    "Really? Me too," Michael replied, heading to the bathroom with a nod. "Eat up."


    "Okay."


    The bathroom door closed, and her cheeks felt warmed by the steam. Emily sipped the broth, its rich flavor calming her frayed nerves.


    As she took her first bite of noodles, it struck her: how did Michael know she wanted noodles?


    In the bathroom, Michael let the cold water cascade over him, his mind wandering. Washing his hair, he felt a stir below, half-aroused.


    He sighed, giving himself a light slap. "Behave."


    The semi-hard flesh quivered as if in protest, becoming more rigid.


    "Not the right time..."


    He sighed again, dousing himself until the urge subsided. After what felt like ages, he toweled off, dressed, and emerged to find Emily finishing her meal.


    He paused. "That was quick."


    "You took too long..."


    "Hmm."


    Emily''s eyes roved over him. He now wore a fitted black quick-dry T-shirt, outlining his muscular build¡ªbroad shoulders, defined chest, tapering to a narrow waist. His quick-dry shorts ended above his knees, revealing strong calves.


    Tonight, Emily noticed, he had a lot of body hair, even on the tops of his feet.


    Emily thought to herself as she headed to the stairwell to dispose of the garbage, akin to an unevolved chimpanzee.


    There was an omnipresent, wild, primal surge of hormones.


    Michael turned off the main light in the living room, leaving only the warm yellow glow of the bathroom light, and moved a dining chair to the balcony, sitting beside the tripod.


    Upon returning to her room, Emily saw a man sitting there with his legs crossed and slippers dangling from his feet, as if they might fall off at any moment.


    Michael pointed to the camera and said to her, "The kitchen is empty now; they''re probably having dinner."


    Thinking of the kitchenware she had collected over the years being touched by others, Emily felt as disgusted as if she had eaten a rotten egg.


    It seemed she didn''t feel as bad even when she found out Anderson was cheating.


    Thinking this, Emily felt she was quite heartless.


    Anderson wasn''t as useful as the cupboards full of pots and pans.


    Tonight, there was no moon, but the big city never lacked artificial lights. Neon lights poured in from all directions, illuminating Emily''s face and her tightly pressed lips.


    Michael understood her mood and waved her away, saying, "You''ve had a long day; go take a shower. I''ll watch over here."


    Emily pursed her lips. "If both of them appear together, you must take a photo."


    Michael wiggled his legs. "Mm-hmm."


    As Emily turned to leave, Michael suddenly called out to her, "Emily."


    Emily turned back. "Yes?"


    "My sister divorced before. The lawyer who handled her case was quite capable," Michael said seriously, "If you need it, I can get you the lawyer''s contact information."


    A burly figure of a man, sitting there like an immovable mountain, even though he looked a bit frivolous wiggling his legs, Emily felt a lot of reassurance from him.


    She thanked him, "Yes, please get me the contact information."


    Michael grinned widely at her, "No problem."


    The sweat stuck to her body like an impermeable film, and although Emily still felt mentally exhausted, at least she felt physically comfortable.


    She smelled the same as Michael.


    It was the faint, refreshing scent of lemons soaked in ice water.


    Emily dried her hair and walked out of the bathroom. The man who had just looked so casual was now standing with his back to her.


    His hands were on his hips, legs apart, head bowed, and his back seemed tense.


    Emily hurriedly asked, "What''s wrong? Has Anderson shown up?"


    Unexpectedly, Michael loudly stopped her, "Don''t come over."


    Emily''s heart sank, but ignoring his obstruction, she walked quickly forward.


    Michael turned to block her, frowning, "Emily, don''t look."


    Taking advantage of his height, he opened his arms and used his body to block the camera.


    This time, Emily didn''t listen to him and, like a cat on edge, finally squeezed under his arm to see the live picture on the camera screen.


    The image was somewhat shaky and grainy, but she could still see clearly. There was a man and a woman standing by the kitchen sink.


    Sophia was in front, still wearing Emily''s apron. Anderson was behind her, his hands reaching into the apron, kneading and groping. Then, Sophia tilted her head back and kissed the man behind her.


    Despite just taking a hot shower, in an instant, it felt like she had been thrown into a bucket of ice water.


    The chill was bone-piercing, making Emily''s heart and body tremble, teeth chattering uncontrollably.


    "That''s... that''s my apron... my kitchen... why couldn''t they just go to the room? Why in the kitchen?!"


    Emily''s voice grew louder, almost hoarse by the end.


    However, her voice was drowned out by the wind in the tall building and the noise of cars below.


    Although Michael had known Emily for several months and thought he knew her well, he had never heard her scream and lose control like this.


    Feeling uneasy, he didn''t want her to continue torturing herself. He wrapped his arms tightly around her soft waist and lifted her, guiding her into the living room, softly comforting her, "It''s okay, it''s okay... let''s not look anymore, Emily, okay?"


    Emily couldn''t hear his words. Twisting left and right, she pulled his sports T-shirt so much that it became deformed, and her eyes became hot and red.


    "Let me go! I want to see for myself, see how low he can sink!"


    Despite Michael''s size, she staggered him with her pull, but he still firmly held her waist.


    Maybe it was because Emily had just come out of the shower, the heat from her body had not dissipated, and a thin layer of mist had formed on the lenses of her glasses.


    Now scattered, now gathered, it covered her pebble-like eyes.


    When they chatted during the day, Michael knew she was severely nearsighted. Without glasses, her vision was blurred, and she could only see clearly when people or things were close to her eyes.


    So he gritted his teeth, raised his hand, took off her black-framed glasses, casually folded the temples, and threw them onto the coffee table.


    There was a "click."


    "What are you doing!" Emily exclaimed.


    Without her glasses, the world instantly blurred, and she had to squint, "Give me back my glasses! I can''t see!"


    Michael kept one hand around her waist and pinched her chin with the other. A little pressure made her tilt up her white, clean face.


    Then he lowered his head, staring into her eyes almost touching her forehead and nose. His tone was a bit forceful, "Can you see me up close like this? Hm?"


    Emily shivered.


    In an instant, reason returned, and she realized how hot this man was.


    His body, his breath, even his voice were all scorching.


    Yet his voice was so low, as if whispering like a demon.


    "Emily, if you can''t see, just don''t see. Don''t let them dirty your eyes."

 Chapter 11

    Some ineffable emotions were swept away by the warm tide, surging into the corners where the lights could not reach.


    Breaths were hot, mingling, a dark undercurrent swelling.


    The rustling of fabric sounded like sparks on a fuse, crackling softly.


    Yet, the rain clouds had begun to drizzle.


    Michael straightened his back slightly and smiled helplessly, his voice tinged with an uncontrollable sorrow, ¡°Crying again? How many times have you cried in front of me today?¡±


    He released Emily¡¯s chin and used his fingers to catch the tears rolling down her cheeks.


    His other hand loosened its grip, moving upwards to gently stroke her trembling back.


    Emily still clung to the fabric on his back, murmuring, ¡°I don¡¯t want to cry¡­ Whether they do it in the living room or the bedroom, they just can¡¯t do it in the kitchen!¡±


    Michael joined her in cursing, ¡°Yes, they¡¯re awful. Doing this, they will surely face divine retribution.¡±


    Her most cherished place had been defiled, and Emily was deeply aggrieved. The accumulated resentment finally erupted.


    She broke down and cursed vehemently, ¡°For years, I have been a dutiful wife, cooking, managing the household, earning my own money. Whenever he wanted me, I gave myself to him¡­¡±


    Michael¡¯s temple throbbed with anger, ¡°Emily! What are you saying!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m stating the truth! He complained I was gaining weight, so I dieted and exercised! He said I wasn¡¯t enthusiastic enough in bed, so I watched films to learn! He said I wasn¡¯t wet enough¡­¡±


    Michael abruptly covered her mouth, his voice strained, ¡°Enough! What¡¯s going on? The more you say, the more absurd it gets!¡±


    All that talk about learning and wetness¡ªthose words were driving him mad with heat.


    Just a few inches above his abdomen, two soft mounds pressed against him¡ªMichael knew she was well-endowed. All day, she had sat in the passenger seat, the seatbelt pressing deeply between her breasts, creating a pair of plump, round mounds.


    Sometimes, when the car hit a bump, those mounds would bounce.


    Their presence was too strong; Michael had to constantly remind himself not to look.


    And now, they were directly against him.


    She was likely wearing a sports bra, the fabric thin without thick padding.


    Yet, it was astonishingly soft.


    Their lower bodies were also pressed tightly together.


    In the height of summer, his pants were thin, and Emily¡¯s loose pajama pants were not much thicker. Amidst the chaos, a certain part of him had started to awaken.


    The rising impulse and desire wedged between them like a seed, ready to break through the soil.


    Michael no longer restrained Emily, but she didn¡¯t push him away; instead, her ten fingers tightened their grip on his clothes.


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    Then, the hand that was loosely covering Emily¡¯s mouth felt something lick its palm.


    Wet, soft.


    His lower abdomen tightened, his brow twitched, and Michael¡¯s neck went numb.


    He gritted his teeth but couldn¡¯t bear to withdraw his hand.


    Then, his palm was lightly bitten. It didn¡¯t hurt, but it sent shivers down his spine, raising every hair on his body.


    The French windows were open, and the hot wind from outside blew in, inflating the balloon of desire between their chests.


    Emily¡¯s eyes were brimming with tears, shimmering. When she blinked, tears would fall.


    She had never done anything so daring, embracing a man she had only met a few times, signaling her desire so openly.


    Her husband¡¯s infidelity was like a hammer, cracking the eggshell that had enclosed her.


    The cracks grew longer and more numerous; she couldn¡¯t stop it. A belated rebellion sprouted from the fissures.


    Why?


    Why should she follow the rules obediently, only to be repeatedly betrayed and hurt?


    The man¡¯s palm was dry and warm, with a faint scent of tobacco. The flesh was rough, marked by years of hard work.


    Her tongue darted out again, like a water snake, gliding from his palm to the base of his middle finger.


    There, a simple gold ring from Cartier¡¯s love collection.


    She didn¡¯t ask if it was a couple¡¯s ring shared with Amanda.


    She closed her eyes, licking the ring until it was wet, her saliva filling the engraved screws symbolizing sincere fidelity.


    Michael exhaled heavily.


    Just from a lick, his member was fully erect, pitifully wedged between them.


    He curled his fingers slightly, no longer covering Emily¡¯s mouth, narrowing his eyes, saying, ¡°...Try licking it again?¡±


    His voice was low and husky with warning, his lower abdomen pressed with an undeniable hardness. Emily''s shoulders trembled but she ignored his feigned threat, continuing to quietly lick his fingers.


    Her tongue traced upwards, leaving a trail of moisture, arriving at the fingertips, she opened her mouth and enveloped them.


    She raised her eyelids, her eyelashes trembling, and looked up at Michael.


    Michael''s eyes darkened, his hand shifted direction, slipping under her hem, flesh against flesh, cupping her lower back.


    Emily¡¯s tongue swirled around his fingertip, and with each circle, Michael¡¯s fingers ascended along her spine.


    The faster she licked, the higher he climbed.


    His fingers were soaked, and Michael simultaneously peeled back the elastic fabric of her back.


    Five fingers slipped in.


    The flesh under his palm was impossibly soft, but a slight press revealed the bone beneath.


    Michael had known from the start, she wasn¡¯t as pliant as her appearance suggested, easily molded by others.


    Her bones were quite rigid.


    He paused, refraining from touching the softer area in front.


    But he was close, just a palm''s distance from her peaks.


    Michael looked down at her, ¡°Emily, I¡¯m no saint.¡±


    He began to move the middle finger in her mouth, gently thrusting in the warm, wet cavity.


    His fingernail lightly grazed her tongue.


    Emily, still holding his fingers in her mouth, mumbled, ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you could stay with me these three days?¡±


    ¡°Yes, what do you want me to do?¡±


    With that, Michael added his ring finger to her mouth.


    Emily hesitated for a moment, then took it in.


    She stopped licking, and instead, lightly sucked on the tips of his fingers, her voice even more muffled, ¡°Hold me¡­¡±


    Michael pressed her back firmly, pulling them closer, ¡°Aren¡¯t I holding you now?¡±


    Her lower abdomen was struck by the aggressive little beast, and Emily whimpered, spitting out his fingers, frowning as she deliberately provoked him, ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb! Michael, are you just like Amanda said, incapable, ugh¡ª¡±


    Michael lifted her face and kissed her fiercely.


    He gave Emily no chance to regret, his assault relentless, capturing that deft tongue and entwining with it passionately.


    He then grasped her soft breast, his fingers sinking deep into the pliant flesh, feeling like he was holding sweet cream, the sensation overwhelmingly exquisite.


    Momentarily losing control, Michael exerted a bit too much force, and heard Emily moan softly.


    He quickly gentled his touch, his deep kiss still domineering, while his fingers tenderly caressed her delicate peaks.


    Emily¡¯s legs grew weak from the kiss, her steps unsteady, clutching Michael''s clothes like holding onto a piece of driftwood in an endless sea.


    Their lower bodies rubbed and pressed against each other, Emily conceding first, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, ¡°Breath¡­can¡¯t breathe¡­¡±


    Michael, also breathing unevenly, reluctantly released her lips.


    He reluctantly kneaded her breast twice more, then withdrew his hand, reversing his grip to clasp Emily¡¯s wrist, guiding it down, pressing it against his throbbing erection.


    Feeling it herself, she realized how hot and hard it was, her breathing quickened, but it was too late to escape now.


    Michael leaned down, his hand guiding her wrist, stroking the painful hardness.


    He brushed aside her dark, seaweed-like hair, kissing the pale expanse of her neck.


    ¡°Whether I¡¯m capable or not, why don¡¯t you find out for yourself?¡±

 Chapter 12

    Emily felt everything was too unfamiliar.


    The small room, painted in varying shades by the lights outside, was strange.


    The irregular ceiling light was strange.


    The overly soft mattress lacking support was strange.


    The slightly rough bed linens were strange.


    The entirely different lovemaking routine was strange.


    The man between her legs, bringing her pleasure, was strange.


    The winding, urgent, and soft moans escaping her mouth were strange.


    The strangest of all was her own physiological response.


    She was exceedingly sensitive; Michael¡¯s kisses in the living room had already aroused her, her small hole slightly open, spring tides flowing.


    When her panties were pulled aside, Emily could finally breathe a sigh of relief¡ªthey were so wet, sticking to her flesh uncomfortably.


    But the next second, Michael chuckled wickedly in her ear, teasing, ¡°Wow, so much water.¡±


    Emily didn¡¯t know if his words had a double meaning or if everything she heard tonight sounded erotic.


    In her encounters with Anderson, foreplay occupied very little time. During their courtship and early marriage, Anderson was willing to serve her, extending the foreplay a bit, but rarely like Michael, who devoted over half an hour just to foreplay.


    He seemed the impatient type.


    Michael lingered on her chest for a long time. The cold air blew, and without needing his touch, her nipples had already stood up on their own.


    The new method of caressing was also unfamiliar.


    His fingertips skimmed over the soft flesh of her waist, light and fast, like a waterbird''s wings slicing through a still lake, creating ripples.


    The itchiness turned into uncontrollable pleasure; Michael¡¯s gentle touches sent waves through her, making her tremble, her hips swaying, her small hole sucking in air and expelling sticky, cool spring water.


    When Michael scraped up the liquid trickling to her buttocks, asking, ¡°Why so much water?¡± Emily thickened her skin and replied that she ¡°always had this much.¡±


    But it wasn¡¯t true; she wasn¡¯t easily aroused.


    Especially in recent years, she felt her sexual desire plummeting to the bottom. If Anderson didn¡¯t initiate, she could go one or two months without thinking about it.


    Or rather, she didn¡¯t enjoy Anderson¡¯s way of lovemaking.


    If foreplay wasn¡¯t long enough, she would be somewhat dry, yet Anderson disliked lubricants. He would thrust in as long as she was slightly wet.


    Without sufficient preparation, it naturally hurt, but she still had to accommodate his thrusts, whimpering along.


    Anderson knew she was slow to warm up, later letting her choose small toys.


    But the toys weren¡¯t for foreplay during their lovemaking; they were for Emily to pre-wet herself before they started.


    Her body now felt too unfamiliar; Emily didn¡¯t know where all this water was coming from.


    It surged continuously, wave after wave, without end.


    Was this the extra pleasure from ¡°adultery¡±?


    No wonder so many people sought this thrill.


    Once, twice, slowly becoming an addiction.


    ¡­So, was Anderson also infatuated with this unrestrained pleasure, leading him to cheat?


    Suddenly, her clitoris was hit hard, causing a tingling shock up her spine, and she screamed, ¡°Ah¡ª!¡±


    Stimulated, her waist arched and fell heavily. She clenched her fingers but couldn¡¯t grasp Michael¡¯s short hair, in her confusion, she pulled his ear, gasping, ¡°Not like this, too hard¡­¡±


    Michael propped himself up, his voice deep, ¡°Then why are you distracted? Hmm? What are you thinking about?¡±


    The room wasn¡¯t completely dark, shadows flickered, but without her glasses and with tears in her eyes, Emily couldn¡¯t see Michael¡¯s features clearly.


    In a blur, she vaguely felt there was a mating black panther between her legs.


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    The panther¡¯s eyes were sharp as knives, fiery within, hidden in the dimness yet still scorching her whole body.


    Emily murmured, ¡°Not distracted, just feels so strange¡­¡±


    Michael¡¯s fingers moved lower, his voice even lower, ¡°I seem strange?¡±


    ¡°No, this feeling is strange¡­¡± Emily swayed her waist, her empty little pussy unconsciously seeking his fingers, shyly asking, ¡°Do you like giving girls oral?¡±


    Unless Michael had a peculiar fetish¡­


    A finger slid into her vagina, Michael shallowly thrusting, water sounds squelching.


    He thought for a moment, ¡°No, I don¡¯t do this often.¡±


    Usually, only in moments of deep affection would he do this for his partner.


    Earlier, he was somewhat dazed; Emily was soft everywhere, just scratching her waist and spine made her water drip onto the sheets.


    But her entrance was tight; after trying twice, seeing her pained expression, Michael wanted to wet his fingers for lubrication.


    Forgetting her juices were on his fingers, he tasted them, got heated, and buried his head to lick her.


    ¡°You¡¯re so tight¡­ haven¡¯t done it in a long time?¡±


    Emily gasped, ¡°Yeah¡­ before your ¡®message,¡¯ I don¡¯t know how long it¡¯s been¡­¡±


    She meant the first ¡°anonymous message¡± Michael sent.


    Michael frowned, cursing Anderson for not appreciating his blessings.


    Emily smiled bitterly.


    Before the ¡°message,¡± Anderson was indifferent; after the ¡°message,¡± Emily felt it was dirty.


    She immediately got a health check-up, afraid of contracting a disease.


    The pleasure increased, Emily¡¯s moans grew urgent.


    Soon, she couldn¡¯t form complete sentences, reaching out to the dark figure, ¡°Michael, Michael¡­ come closer¡­¡±


    Michael lay beside her, his hands still moving, ¡°What is it? Want a hug?¡±


    Emily hooked her arm around his neck, lifting her head to kiss him, ¡°I can¡¯t see without my glasses¡­ you need to be closer so I can see you¡­¡±


    Michael paused.


    He couldn''t tell how sincere Emily was, but her words pleased him.


    The sands in the hourglass fell ever faster.


    Thrusting, scraping, pressing, each withdrawal of his fingers drew out sweet, sticky nectar.


    Emily''s eyes misted over, her snowy hips trembled violently, and she cried out incoherently, ¡°I can''t take it,¡± her voice delicate as a spring breeze.


    Michael''s arousal swelled.


    He hadn¡¯t brought condoms, and neither had Emily. This well-regulated guesthouse didn¡¯t provide any, but fortunately, the convenience store was ever-reliable. Before bringing Emily to the room, he¡¯d stopped at the nearest store to buy some.


    He restrained himself, his fingers moving rapidly, kissing Emily, swallowing her fragmented murmurs.


    The parched field gradually soaked, the soil becoming moist.


    Sprouting, elongating, tasseling, blooming, finally ripening.


    The wheat ears swayed in the wind, seeds falling with a rustling sound.


    Emily lay on the bed, lightly panting, her chest rising and falling, savoring the lingering waves of climax.


    What should have been a blurred world slowly enveloped her in a warm cloud.


    She stretched out her arms, embracing that cloud, and saw his face clearly.


    Michael kissed the corner of her mouth tenderly, suggesting, ¡°Why don''t you keep your glasses off tonight?¡±


    Emily immediately understood his meaning, her heart softening, she murmured, ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    This way, Michael would be the only one she could see in her world tonight.


    Emily felt content and wanted Michael to feel the same.


    Michael had yet to take off his shorts, only his upper body was bare, his crotch bulging prominently. Emily reached over, rubbed twice, and was about to pull down his shorts when she suddenly remembered something.


    Michael whispered to Emily, ¡°Wait here.¡±


    He retrieved a condom from his discarded pants, tearing and biting the wrapper open, wondering why he felt as clumsy as a young boy.


    Walking towards the room, removing his pants, he¡¯d half put on the condom, inexplicably excited like a child: ¡°Chirp¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shh!¡±


    Michael was interrupted, puzzled, he looked at the bed.


    Emily sat on the bed, the blanket slipping to pile around her waist and hips.


    The light from her phone screen shone, casting a faint glow, exposing the confusion on her face.


    Michael frowned, approached, glanced down, his temple throbbing.


    It was a call from ¡°Husband.¡±


    An inexplicable anger surged, Michael reached for Emily¡¯s phone, ¡°Don¡¯t answer it.¡±


    Unexpectedly, Emily avoided him, shaking her head, ¡°I have to answer.¡±


    The raging fire within him was doused with a bucket of ice water, leaving Michael a bit deflated, but Emily''s next words yanked his heart back up.


    Emily pointed to the bed, her voice hoarse and low from her earlier release, ¡°Lie down, I''ll be on top¡­¡±


    In an instant, Michael felt a rush of exhilaration.


    Thinking about what was to come, he couldn''t help but feel excited again.


    He lay down, lifting his chin, smiling roguishly, ¡°Sister, come on, tonight I''m yours.¡±


    His hands clasped behind his head, a picture of nonchalant confidence.


    Emily made a shushing gesture, straddling his abdomen where a faint line of hair grew.


    It was her first time doing something so against conventional morals, her heart pounding in her throat. She steadied her breath, answered the call, ¡°Hello¡­ husband.¡±


    Anderson on the other end sounded impatient, ¡°What took you so long to answer?¡±


    ¡°I was showering, just turned off the water when I heard the phone¡­¡±


    Emily knelt, one hand holding the phone, the other reaching down, gripping the silent, fierce beast.


    Through the latex, the sensation was mediocre, with some lubricant.


    She couldn¡¯t bother with that now, quickly finding the right position.


    Positioning it at her softest spot, only the tip went in and Emily already felt sore and swollen.


    She looked down at Michael, his face hidden in the dim light, she could barely make out his features, only sensing his playful smile had vanished.


    Even his thigh muscles were taut, rock-hard.


    Emily slowly sank down, asking, ¡°What did you do today? I called you this afternoon, were you busy?¡±


    Her voice trembled, but Anderson couldn¡¯t tell, he replied perfunctorily, ¡°Yeah, busy at the office all day.¡±


    Emily asked, ¡°Oh, you must be tired. What did you have for dinner? Takeout at the office?¡±


    Anderson''s voice was somewhat muffled, ¡°Yeah, takeout.¡±


    Swallowing half of the massive length, Emily''s legs turned weak, her hands braced on Michael¡¯s firm abs.


    She sighed, a faint, desolate smile tugging at her lips.


    It was a smile of resignation.


    The room was quiet, the phone¡¯s volume was loud, Michael could probably hear their conversation.


    That smile also fell into Michael''s eyes.


    He clenched his jaw, barely restraining the urge to thrust wildly into Emily, to let Anderson know she was ¡°busy¡± and shouldn¡¯t be disturbed.


    Emily chatted casually with her husband, breathing deeply, inching down to take the entire length.


    Once fully seated, both she and Michael sighed silently, Emily then asked Anderson, ¡°Do you know what I did today?¡±


    On the other end, Anderson, hearing the water stop in the bathroom, started to sound distracted, ¡°You? Didn¡¯t you post on your Moments? Class, then trying a new restaurant¡­¡±


    Emily began to move her hips, slowly at first, not very skillful.


    Just this slow grind was enough to bring her pleasure, each sore and dry patch of land being soothed.


    She closed her eyes, her expression a mix of emotions, her voice betraying no hint of her true feelings, ¡°Yeah, the food there was really good.¡±

 Chapter 13

    Anderson multitasked, verbally engaging with his wife while his eyes remained fixed on the young woman emerging from the bathroom. Before Sophia could speak, he raised a finger to his lips, signaling her to remain silent.


    Sophia pursed her lips, puffed her cheeks, and cast him a resentful, coquettish glance. That look, both alluring and charming, caused Anderson¡¯s mind to wander. He glanced down; the woman, fresh from the bath, was clad in a seductive nightgown, the sheer fabric barely concealing her curves. Her face, innocent yet her body, tantalizing, reminded him of Emily just after she graduated from college years ago.


    Anderson crooked his middle finger, and though Sophia appeared reluctant, she quickly approached the bed, slipping off her shoes and obediently lying beside him. Anderson gently massaged her shoulders, contemplating a way to end his ¡°report¡± to his wife, but Emily suddenly called out, ¡°Honey¡­ since you¡¯re home now, shall we video call?¡±


    Anderson froze, and the woman in his arms trembled violently, her hand, which had been teasing his flaccid member, halted.


    ¡°...Now?¡± Anderson quickly fabricated an excuse, ¡°Not right now, someone just messaged me about a work issue. Can we do it later?¡±


    Upon hearing this, Sophia sat up abruptly, glaring at him with wide eyes. She scratched his chest in silent protest, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish trapped in a bowl.


    Anderson grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it as a means of appeasement, while also reassuring his wife, ¡°I¡¯ll message you later when I¡¯m done, okay?¡±


    The next moment, he heard Emily gasp on the other end of the line.


    ¡°Emily?¡±


    ¡°Mm, mm¡­ just yawning. I¡¯m a bit tired, it¡¯s been a long day. I might be asleep by the time you message¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, you should rest.¡±


    ¡°Alright, you go ahead and work. If I¡¯m still awake, I¡¯ll reply. Don¡¯t overwork yourself, good night¡­¡±


    ¡°Good n¡ª¡±


    The word ¡°night¡± stuck in his throat as Anderson stared at the phone, now disconnected, in a daze.


    Sophia pounced on him, threatening, ¡°You dare video call her? Aren¡¯t you afraid I¡¯ll suddenly expose a leg or an arm for her to see?¡±


    Unperturbed, Anderson swatted her bottom, ¡°Not adding that line would arouse suspicion.¡±


    Sophia pouted, feeling wronged and unbalanced, yet she wasn¡¯t foolish enough to start an argument over this now.


    ¡°You promised these three days would be mine¡­¡± Sophia¡¯s arms encircled his neck, her pert breasts brushing against his chest through the thin fabric as she called him ¡°husband¡± sweetly.


    Anderson reveled in Sophia¡¯s brazenness; she was even more proactive than Amanda and wholly devoted to him. Amanda harbored feelings for another man, treating their relationship as a mere dalliance, fulfilling mutual needs. In contrast, Sophia¡¯s unabashed admiration and love brought him immense satisfaction.


    His desire rekindled, Anderson pushed thoughts of Emily hastily ending their call aside, losing himself in a fervent kiss with Sophia.


    Across the street in the apartment, the light flickered, but the position of the couple on the bed had shifted.


    Emily lay beneath Michael, her voice reduced to fragmented murmurs, melding with the elevated heat, becoming thick syrup that seeped from within. During her call with Anderson, Michael had continued his movements, but when she suggested a video call, he had abruptly gripped her waist and thrust upward with such force that she gasped, biting her lip to stifle her moan.


    Pleasure quickly spread throughout her body, but the psychological thrill was even more intense. As the call continued, Michael had laid her down on the bed, his relentless thrusts shaking her, prompting Emily to hastily end the call, fearing she couldn¡¯t suppress her moans.


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    With each thrust, Michael withdrew fully before plunging back in, the sound of flesh against flesh resounding in the room. Though he remained silent, the sweat dripping from his temple betrayed his outward composure. The beast unleashed, driven mad by the sweet scent, burrowed deeper into her wet depths.


    ¡°You, you need to slow down¡ªI can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Emily couldn¡¯t form a complete sentence, soon reduced to incoherent whimpers. Tears of ecstasy streamed down, shackles falling away one by one. Surrendering to her body''s desires, she reached out for Michael¡¯s embrace.


    The sturdy guesthouse bed creaked under Michael''s vigorous movements. Her discarded phone, pushed to the edge of the mattress, wobbled before finally tumbling off.


    With a sharp ¡°crack,¡± the phone hit the floor, but the sound was drowned out by Emily¡¯s climactic scream. Michael gritted his teeth, holding back his release until her orgasm subsided, then slowly withdrew.


    The bed was soaked, and Michael chuckled softly, ¡°Look, you¡¯ve made a mess.¡±


    Emily, still catching her breath, could only muster a feeble glare, the aftershocks of her intense orgasm leaving her too exhausted to speak. She soon drifted into a fitful sleep, her dreams chaotic and fragmented.


    In one dream, she attacked Sophia in an office building, only to have Sophia pull her hair in retaliation. In another, she discovered numerous insurance policies at home, all taken out by Anderson for her. Yet another dream had Amanda visiting her, handing her a wedding invitation, saying she was marrying Michael and telling Emily to ¡°arrive early¡±...


    Emily jolted awake from her dream.


    "Awake?" Michael, still up, was leaning against the headboard, reviewing footage on his camera.


    "Hmm... what time is it?" Emily, now more alert, pulled the blanket up to cover her exposed chest. Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.


    Michael checked his phone. "Nine o''clock. You''ve only been asleep for half an hour. Go back to sleep."


    Emily shook her head. "I''m thirsty..."


    Michael handed her the bottle of mineral water from the bedside table. "Sit up to drink."


    Emily tried to prop herself up, but her elbows buckled, causing her to fall back onto the bed. Michael chuckled and helped her sit up.


    Emily, extremely parched, drank several gulps before feeling better.


    "Are you hungry?" Michael asked.


    Emily pulled the blanket higher, whispering coyly, "What kind of hungry?"


    Michael raised an eyebrow. "Either way, I can satisfy you."


    Feeling a blush rise, Emily scratched her ear and grabbed the camera to change the subject. "What did you record later?"


    Suddenly remembering, she exclaimed, "My glasses!"


    Michael handed her the black-framed glasses from the bedside. "The part in the kitchen lasted about five minutes before they left. But later, the woman came back alone. The camera''s battery is low. If you want to record more tonight, you¡¯ll need to change it."


    Emily quickly skimmed through the video.


    Muttering to herself, she said, "This kind of evidence... if it comes to a divorce lawsuit, it should be enough, right?"


    "With what you¡¯ve collected so far, including today¡¯s footage, yes. I got the lawyer''s contact info and forwarded it to you. If you''re unsure how to proceed, I can help you consult them. I¡¯ve dealt with them before because of my sister."


    Emily blinked slowly, lifting her head to ask, "If they ask about our relationship, what will you say?"


    Michael paused with the water bottle at his lips. After a moment, he hesitantly replied, "Friends?"


    Friends who occasionally share a bed in passion?


    Emily took a sip from the same bottle, her eyes on Michael. His lips were full and soft, making kissing him enjoyable.


    Reaching for the phone that had fallen beside her pillow, Emily sent a friend request to the lawyer, explaining her situation.


    Michael, having finished his water, still lounged against the headboard, his gaze fixed on Emily¡¯s bare back, bathed in the warm glow from the streetlights outside. The light added a fiery hue, stoking a fire within him. He rested an arm on the pillow behind her, his finger lightly tracing her waist.


    Emily shivered, goosebumps rising immediately. "What are you doing? It tickles!" she protested, frowning.


    "I know," Michael smiled, "I discovered recently that even a slight touch makes you¡ª"


    "Stop," Emily blushed, hitting his arm, "Don''t say it."


    Even she hadn¡¯t known until tonight that tickling could feel so good.


    Michael brushed her hair aside. "Has he contacted you?"


    Emily, knees drawn to her chest under the blanket, rested her chin on them. "No. He¡¯s probably still ''busy.''"


    Michael added, "While you were asleep, I called Amanda."


    "Did you discuss anything?"


    "I reported my ''activities'' today and asked what she did in the afternoon. She said she had cramps and went home to rest after shopping with friends."


    "Oh."


    Michael idly played with her hair. "So, are you planning to stay here and keep watching the apartment across the street?"


    Emily shook her head immediately. "No. As you said, there''s enough evidence now. I need time to process it all. I plan to compile the photos, recordings, and videos into one concise presentation for negotiations."


    "Good idea," Michael agreed.


    Pushing her glasses up, Emily continued, "Then I want to go home."


    Michael frowned. "Home? Across the street?"


    "Of course not. I want to visit my hometown and inform my family of my decision."


    Tilting her head, she looked at him. "If you have nowhere to go, do you want to come with me?"

 Chapter 14

    Emily''s pronunciation was so flawless, devoid of any accent, that Michael often forgot she, like Anderson, wasn''t a native of Eldoria.


    In the documents obtained two months ago, both Emily and Anderson hailed from Shuishan City, a small coastal town within the province. A four to five-hour drive on the highway from Eldoria.


    Michael had risen early. While Emily was still asleep, he returned the Toyota and retrieved his own car before coming back to pick her up.


    For their two-day, one-night trip, both had packed lightly¡ªjust a change of clothes and undergarments. The clothes worn yesterday were washed and left to dry on the balcony of the guesthouse, intending to retrieve them upon their return.


    With today¡¯s clear weather, more people were out traveling. The intercity highway was packed with cars, but once they left Eldoria, the traffic eased and the speed picked up.


    "After graduating from university, I stayed in Eldoria and joined an advertising company as an event planner. That¡¯s when I met Anderson. He was a year older, starting a tech company with his college friends...


    "Initially, their company was small. They crowded into a tiny apartment, pulling all-nighters for days on end. I would bring them midnight snacks...


    "Those were tiring yet joyful times... then..."


    Emily was busy editing videos on her phone while reminiscing about her younger days with Michael. It took her a while to realize that Michael, behind the wheel, hadn¡¯t spoken for some time.


    She looked over at him. He was gripping the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead, his expression serious, lips tightly pressed.


    Snapping her fingers near his ear, she said, "Hey, are you listening to me?"


    Michael snapped out of his reverie, glancing at her sideways. "Yeah, I heard. Anderson built his empire from scratch, a bittersweet journey. Now he has a car, a house, and a beautiful wife. Impressive."


    Emily wrinkled her nose, ignoring his sarcastic tone, and continued editing her video. "After dating for a while, we followed the typical path: meeting the parents, getting engaged, having the wedding banquet, and finally, marriage."


    Each step felt as precise as buttons slipping into their corresponding holes, methodical and orderly. Only recently did she realize the buttons had been misaligned all along.


    Michael, uninterested in the parts involving Anderson, pursed his lips and asked, "When did you start doing what you do now?"


    "Hmm..." Emily pondered, "I started when short videos first became popular. Initially, it was just a hobby. As my audience grew, I was fortunate to publish a few books. Since Anderson was in this industry, he leveraged some connections, got me signed with a company, and built a brand for me. I became a commercialized internet celebrity, but it was mostly because I got in early. Nowadays, my gimmicks and styles can¡¯t compete with many video bloggers."


    Her voice was calm, indifferent, like plain water.


    Michael sensed her disinterest. "Do you not enjoy what you do now?"


    "I love cooking and can enjoy my work, but these past few years have been exhausting."


    Emily thought for a moment, then turned off her phone. "I started making cooking videos before Bilibili began buying licenses. Back then, I didn''t have to show my face. I could do whatever I wanted. Later, the company dictated what was trending, so I had to follow suit. I had to appear on camera, create an image of ¡®three meals a day, life in peace,¡¯ a gentle and intellectual persona."


    "Oh, I see. You don''t like showing your face."


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Michael recalled the inexpensive online cooking classes he had purchased. Emily always smiled in the videos, but the smile never reached her eyes, and her words seemed dry and lifeless.


    The Emily he had come to know recently was far more expressive and animated, especially last night...


    A lingering spark in his lower abdomen prompted Michael to discreetly adjust the air conditioner and shift in his seat.


    "Yeah, I¡¯m not the type to rely on my looks. I know that much."


    Emily adjusted her glasses and asked, "Have you watched any of my earlier videos?"


    Michael nodded. "I''ve seen a few."


    Emily suddenly smiled. "Then you''ve probably seen more than Anderson has. He never watches them. If he happens to see one on the homepage, he just says I look fat on camera and need to lose weight."


    Michael¡¯s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his heart aching slightly.


    "He''s talking nonsense..."


    Emily shook her head, interrupting him. "I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve watched my videos with the comments on. Many people think like Anderson, focusing less on what I cook and more on my makeup or my figure.


    "At one point, the company wanted me to emulate a viral food blogger and shoot those rustic cooking videos in the countryside. But that¡¯s not my style, so the videos came out fake and inauthentic."


    Her work, like her marriage, had veered off course, the buttons misaligned.


    Emily shrugged, offering a simple yet clear summary, "In short, it''s lost its original flavor."


    Michael overtook two cars before asking, "If one day you stop being a food blogger, what would you like to do?"


    "Open a restaurant!"


    Without hesitation, Emily''s face lit up as she answered.


    Michael smiled, "What kind of restaurant?"


    "Something like a late-night diner, not too big. Guests would sit around the bar, chatting while waiting for their food. Whatever ingredients I can find at the market during the day, that¡¯s what I''ll cook at night."


    Emily¡¯s excitement grew, as if the restaurant were opening tomorrow. She vividly described the fruit wines she would brew and the signature dishes she would serve, painting a picture in her mind.


    A small restaurant hidden in an alley, shrouded by the night. Push open the wooden door, the bell rings, and the aroma of food wafts in. The owner behind the bar greets softly, "Welcome."


    "Sounds great! When you open, I''ll visit every day."


    Michael tapped the steering wheel lightly, his tone inquisitive, "Which district do you plan to open it in?"


    Emily gazed at the blue sky and white clouds at the end of the highway, paused for a few seconds, then lowered her head and resumed working on her video.


    She sighed lightly and smiled, "Oh, it''s just a thought for now. Let''s handle the matters at home first."


    Michael¡¯s smile faded. Some issues, if Emily didn¡¯t mention, he wouldn¡¯t press.


    Old songs played softly in the car, the singer''s voice gentle, allowing Emily to add subtitles to the audio recorded in Anderson¡¯s car.


    Michael remained mostly silent. When driving alone, he would often speed in sections without cameras, smoke when cravings hit, and use a bottle when in urgent need. But none of that was possible today. After nearly an hour on the highway, having almost finished a pack of candy, he saw a service area sign and turned to say, "There¡¯s a service area ahead, we can..."


    Emily had fallen asleep, her head resting against the seat, mouth slightly open, phone still lit in her hand, glasses slipping down her nose.


    Michael reached over, took her phone, turned off the screen, placed it in the cup holder, and gently removed her glasses.


    She stirred but didn¡¯t wake. He folded the glasses and clipped them to his collar, then adjusted the air conditioning and redirected the vents.


    After driving another twenty kilometers, he pulled into the service area, parked in a shaded spot, left the engine running, and stepped out to smoke under a nearby tree.


    Taking a few drags, lost in thought, he saw Emily waking up inside the car.


    She touched her face, squinted around, and, realizing she couldn¡¯t see clearly, searched for her glasses.


    Michael chuckled at her groggy state, almost choking on his smoke. He stubbed out the cigarette, walked to the passenger door, and tapped on the glass.


    Emily wasn¡¯t startled; she recognized Michael''s tall, broad silhouette even without her glasses.


    Pressing her face close to the door, she found the window button and lowered it, her voice hoarse, "I can''t find my glasses."


    "They''re with me." Michael took out her glasses, fiddling with the frames. "You¡¯re really tired, huh?"


    "Of course, didn¡¯t you see what time we went to sleep last night..." Emily grumbled.


    Michael waved the glasses, asking, "Want me to put them on for you?"


    Emily nodded, closing her eyes as he brought the glasses to her.


    A shadow loomed over her, and she caught a faint scent of smoke. Before she opened her eyes, a soft kiss brushed her lips.


    She opened her eyes abruptly to find his face inches from hers.


    Backlit by the sunlight, his features were sharp, his gaze intense.


    The cicadas in the trees filled the air with their song, echoing in her chest, making it feel full and heavy.


    She pursed her lips and murmured, "Why did you steal a kiss?"


    Michael stepped back, returning to his playful, unserious demeanor. "That¡¯s the ''fee'' for keeping your glasses safe."


    His hands tucked into his shorts pockets, he clenched his fists, trying to quell the surge of emotion within him.


    He had simply seen her close her eyes and couldn¡¯t resist the urge to kiss her.