The car drove along the East Third Ring Road, a long river of cars with twinkling lights.

After dinner, they went to a club to play cards. At two in the morning, the group dispersed—those looking for more entertainment went their way, while others headed home.

Zhao Pingjin took Xi Tang home. As he drove, he casually asked: “Why didn’t you refuse him?”

Xi Tang silently stared at the dazzling lights outside: “I thought… I was afraid of making the situation awkward.”

Zhao Pingjin’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers fair, slender, articulated, and as smooth as jade: “Huang Xi Tang can be afraid too?”

Xi Tang gazed at his hand for quite a while before reluctantly looking away, smiling calmly: “It wasn’t a big deal. Heart Hui from our company has done it before—dressed as a Qing Dynasty empress to celebrate a coal boss’s birthday. Then after coming down from the celebration, she went straight to the Peninsula Hotel with a dark face and bought ten bags.”

Zhao Pingjin’s voice carried a warning tone: “Have you done it too?”

Xi Tang humbly replied: “I’m not famous enough yet.”

Zhao Pingjin asked: “This kind of work, is it managed by Ni Kailun?”

Xi Tang answered: “Yes.”

Zhao Pingjin looked straight ahead and sighed with relief: “That’s fine then.”

Xi Tang glanced at him: “What are you planning to do?”

Zhao Pingjin’s hand glided on the steering wheel as the car accelerated through a green light, turning right on Tonghui River North Road: “None of your business.”

Xi Tang ignored him. She knew he wouldn’t gain any advantage if he tried to fight with Ni Kailun.

Zhao Pingjin smiled calmly, his voice unfathomable: “Old Four stood up for you though.”

Xi Tang could only smile, not daring to respond.

Zhao Pingjin looked at her smile with displeasure: “What’s this? ‘One day as husband and wife, a hundred days of affection’?”

Xi Tang softly pleaded: “Enough.”

Zhao Pingjin finally fell silent.

When they returned home, Zhao Pingjin took off his coat and began pulling at his tie. He was tired and had been harboring inexplicable anger all evening, leaving him with no patience. The elegant silk tie was yanked forcefully, immediately tangling into a tight knot.

Xi Tang approached him: “Let me help.”

Zhao Pingjin watched as she came before him. She tilted her face slightly upward; her delicate skin emanated a faint fragrance. Her slender fingers moved deftly beneath the collar of his shirt. He stood motionless, his body rigid, feeling heat slowly rising within him.

Huang Xi Tang’s fingers were slightly warm, occasionally brushing gently against his neck. After undoing the double-crossed knot, she pulled the tie from his shirt collar, smiled faintly, and turned to walk away.

At that moment, Zhao Pingjin suddenly raised his hands, cupping her face, and kissed her deeply.

Xi Tang couldn’t catch her breath for an instant. She only felt his slight stubble immediately scraping against her face, bringing an electric, numbing sensation, followed by his hot lips pressing directly against hers.

Zhao Pingjin slowly lowered his head, entangling her lips and teeth, then pressed his hands against her back, holding her entire body tightly.

His strong arms wrapped around her forcefully. Xi Tang felt as if she had been lifted, and pressed tightly against his chest.

Hot tears welled in her eyes. She closed them and carefully raised her hand to gently stroke the hair at the nape of his neck.

This tender caress nearly made Zhao Pingjin lose control.

…

Both were so thirsty for each other, embracing and intertwining like a riverbed that had been dry for a thousand years, suddenly moistened by melting snow flowing down from mountain peaks at the brink of Earth’s destruction.

Zhao Pingjin finally unbuttoned the row of satin buttons on her qipao one by one, revealing a large expanse of snow-white skin that intoxicated the mind and soul. He pulled off her undergarments, and it was at that moment he saw the wound on her shoulder.

At her right collarbone—a surgery scar, a striking cross-shaped mark.

He was as if struck by lightning, abruptly stopping his movements.

Xi Tang suddenly felt that at the last moment of their entanglement… he went soft.

Zhao Pingjin buried his head in her shoulder, motionless and silent.

Xi Tang was somewhat concerned: “Zhao Pingjin, you’re not really… impotent, are you?”

Zhao Pingjin suddenly rose, grabbed his coat from the sofa, and without a word, staggered two steps and directly twisted open the door.

He went up to the bar on the sixty-fifth floor to drink.

After less than two glasses, a girl approached him, wearing a pink spaghetti-strap dress and bright eye shadow: “Sir, are you alone?”

Zhao Pingjin turned to look at her. These girls were all the same. After she left, he had seen one after another, all the same. It was useless; none of them was Huang Xi Tang.

The girl said: “My name is Bunny. I’m a student at the Communication University.”

Zhao Pingjin responded indifferently: “If you’re a student, why aren’t you back at school?”

The girl opened her innocent eyes: “It’s too late. There are no more buses.”

Zhao Pingjin took out several bills: “Take a taxi back.”

The girl moved closer, her voice gentle: “Do you have something troubling you?”

“No.” Zhao Pingjin placed his glass on the bar counter with measured force.

Zhao Pingjin looked at her coldly: “Don’t mess with people like us. It won’t end well for you.”

The girl left sheepishly.