Zhou Mi discovered something was wrong three days ago, because her period was delayed by a full week.
This situation isn’t uncommon for many women, but for Zhou Mi, it was quite abnormal. Her period had always been punctual for ten years, with variations rarely exceeding two days before or after.
Initially, she didn’t take it particularly seriously and decided to wait a bit longer. But by the ninth day, without even the slightest sign of backache or abdominal pain, she inevitably became suspicious.
Zhou Mi thought back and grew increasingly puzzled. Before going to bed, she secretly searched online for related questions and answers.
The results pointed clearly: “If a woman of childbearing age experiences a menstrual delay of 10 days, there’s a high suspicion of pregnancy. It’s best to use the first morning urine to test for pregnancy.”
This made her not just anxious but utterly terrified. Zhou Mi’s heart was in her throat, uncertain about the exact cause.
She wasn’t an insensitive person; on the contrary, her nerves were quite sensitive. Unsurprisingly, she spent the entire night sleepless.
In the early hours, Zhou Mi ordered pregnancy test strips on Taobao. Her biggest motivation wasn’t to confirm the truth, but rather because many buyers in the comments said this was a powerful tool for summoning one’s period.
But this superstitious hope didn’t bring any results. The following morning, her underwear remained completely clean.
Ten days delayed now.
Zhou Mi began to feel dazed.
The answer was obvious, yet she dared not face it, let alone tell anyone, including her closest friends.
Of course, she was also afraid to test her urine at home, fearing she might leave traces that would alert her parents to the situation. Even picking up the delivery package required the caution of smuggling gunpowder.
So, early on the eleventh day, she carried the test to the company bathroom and followed the instructions properly.
The directions required waiting 10-20 minutes before checking the result, but the two lines on her test strip turned blood-red at a visibly rapid speed.
This phenomenon had a scientific name called “strong positive,” indicating pregnancy was absolutely certain, with no possibility of a false result.
She was pregnant? How could that be?
Looking back at her last sexual encounter, it was nearly a month ago.
That day was Ao Xing’s company team-building event at an eco-friendly small town called Star Moon Bay in the neighboring suburbs. People from branch offices across the country had gathered there. From all corners of the land, well-mannered and elegant, she was just a small intern among them, joining the excitement like an inexperienced little fish.
The morning was spent in meetings, the afternoon playing games, and overall, the day was quite fulfilling.
That evening, after returning to the hotel, before she could even settle down, the director called everyone in the group chat, inviting them to a bar by the dock for some fun.
Zhou Mi’s director was surnamed Yuan, a woman with extremely strong business abilities, but she wasn’t rigid at all, easy to get along with, and quite playful.
Everyone sat around in the private room drinking. Inevitably, when drunk, they became mentally stimulated and talked enthusiastically.
Zhou Mi’s alcohol tolerance was average, and her behavior while drunk was even more difficult to describe, so she didn’t dare drink much. She just obediently sat in the corner of the sofa, her eyes darting around, occasionally laughing along with everyone else.
Later, as more people started smoking in the room, it became like an alchemist’s furnace, smoky and fiery. Zhou Mi felt extremely uncomfortable and used the excuse of needing the bathroom to escape the bar for some fresh air.
The indoor and outdoor environments were like two different worlds.
On one side, there was the deafening noise of merrymaking; on the other, untouched by worldly glamour. Heaven and earth were in perfect silence, with only the lights trembling, spreading a silver river across the water’s surface.
Walking along the lake for a while, Zhou Mi spotted a familiar figure across a narrow dock, tall and slender, with one hand on the railing, seemingly on a phone call.
To say he was familiar wasn’t entirely accurate.
He seemed to notice her, too. His gaze didn’t easily wander away but quietly rested on her face. His lips continued to move, appearing both attentive and distracted.
The wind carried fragments of the man’s words, not entirely clear.
It also made his pure black shirt billow, accentuating his exceptionally bright complexion.
After a moment of eye contact, Zhou Mi decisively turned around and walked in the opposite direction, choosing to return and rejoin the group.
Suddenly, the phone in her pocket vibrated.
Zhou Mi took it out, caught a glimpse of the name, and felt as if she’d been caught red-handed. Her heart leaped forcefully.
She pressed her lips together and answered the call.
Before she could speak, the other side spoke first, mixing with the sound of the wind: “Why are you running away?”
Zhou Mi was frozen in place by these three light yet pleasant words, forcing out a dry greeting from her lips: “Hello, boss.”
The other person chuckled, a low-pitched sound like a pebble dropping into a lake, splashing fragmented light in ripples and also splashing coolness onto one’s ears. Zhou Mi couldn’t help but shrink her neck.
And her recent form of address seemed to add a layer of BUFF to the man’s following words, that is, a sense of command and oppression. He concisely uttered four words: “Come over to talk.”
That talk led them straight into a hotel room.
High rank and authority were truly remarkable. His single suite was several times larger than the standard rooms she and her colleagues stayed in. The wallpaper was intricate, the lighting dazzling, like a beautiful and spacious golden cage. But Zhou Mi had no time to appreciate the details. The man handled her with practiced ease, quickly making her moan repeatedly. When pressed down, Zhou Mi couldn’t help but arch like a bow, just to let him notch his arrow sooner.
It had been some time since they’d seen each other. Zhou Mi was completely unable to resist, could only allow herself to suffocate in the surging waves.
Midway through, he still withdrew carefully, turning to the drawer to find something.
Afterward, Zhou Mi faced the man’s chest as he brushed aside her wet bangs. For the first time, she heard him call her name: “Zhou Mi.”
Then he repeated, as if having restrained himself for a long time: “So your name is Zhou Mi.”
Zhou Mi looked up, cupped his face, and mimicked his tone: “So your name is Zhang Lian.”
He smiled: “Not calling me boss anymore?”
“Not anymore,” Zhou Mi turned over, facing away from him and listing her logic: “There are no class distinctions in bed.”
Zhang Lian was amused by her words and propped himself up on his elbow to kiss her shoulder.
Zhou Mi shifted slightly, accidentally bumping his chin with considerable force, but didn’t apologize: “I want to sleep for a while.”
Zhang Lian remained composed: “Probably not possible.”
Zhou Mi quickly turned her eyes back, her smooth hair sliding through the wrinkles of the pillow: “Why not? Are you changing partners for the second half?”
Zhang Lian didn’t answer, only asking: “Aren’t you afraid of being discovered if you don’t return to your room tonight?”
Zhou Mi was quite skilled at sarcasm: “Aren’t you more afraid of being discovered?”
But Zhang Lian never seemed to get annoyed, his emotions rarely showing significant fluctuations: “Who are you sharing a room with today?”
Zhou Mi casually lied, naming a male colleague from her department.
Poor guy. Zhang Lian chuckled, playing along: “Who arranged that?”
Zhou Mi said, “Your HR.”
Zhang Lian lay back down, casually embracing her: “Always doing inhuman things.”
Zhou Mi was caught off guard, crashing straight back into his arms, giving him an annoyed glance: “As if what you’re doing is any more humane.”
Zhang Lian lowered his eyes slightly to meet her gaze, with laziness revealing a hint of inappropriate yet perfectly fitting mischief: “Didn’t I just finish doing something very human?”
Zhou Mi gave him a moderate kick, got out of bed naked, picked up her shorts from the carpet, and took out her phone from the pocket: “It’s almost three o’clock, I need to go.”
Zhang Lian sat up straight, watching her get dressed, then seeing her off with his gaze.
—
When she returned to her room, her female roommate was already asleep, emitting light, regular snores. Zhou Mi sat in the dim bedside, gradually removing her pants and top. Her skin was slippery, either from sweat or its natural texture.
After absolute excitement often comes despondency and a sense of letdown. Zhou Mi thought to herself that she was truly like a midnight Cinderella.
After being sentimental for a while, she tiptoed to the bathroom.
Zhang Lian had left some marks on her body, varying in depth and size, like rose petals sunken beneath her skin. But they all avoided obvious locations, lurking in places sufficiently hidden from others.
Zhang Lian was a cunning male beast who, even when hormones dominated his brain, could express his territorial instinct in an orderly manner.
Tomorrow morning, when she put on her waist-hugging white dress, she would transform back into that innocent, unworldly college girl.
Zhou Mi made a few faces at herself in the mirror, put on her nightgown, and returned to bed to rest.
The next day, before boarding the return bus, she saw Zhang Lian again in the parking lot.
He was talking with a short-haired woman in the corridor. The woman couldn’t be described as youthfully beautiful, but her every expression carried a charm rarely seen in young girls, like a singer from a 60s or 70s magazine.
When communicating or listening to others, he habitually wore a smile, but it did not radiate from within. It was superficial and distant, as if covered by a thin and highly deceptive facade.
Zhou Mi wondered if this might be his “second half” partner.
Could a thirty-three-year-old man still be so active? She seriously doubted it.
Leaning back against her seat, Zhou Mi watched this well-matched couple get into the same car from behind the window—Zhang Lian’s car, an all-black Cayenne she had never ridden in.
Zhou Mi smirked for no reason and took out her phone to message her best friend:
“I did it with Brother Wolf again last night!”
The explosive news made her friend reply with countless question marks: ????????
At the same time, confused: Didn’t you two have no contact last month? Didn’t you agree to end this kind of relationship immediately once you knew each other’s identities?
Zhou Mi frowned slightly: I’m not the one who broke the game rules.
Best friend: He approached you first?
Zhou Mi: Yes, he initiated the conversation with me.
Best friend: Was that the first time you talked to him since joining his company?
Zhou Mi: Seems so.
Best friend: But he’s your boss, doesn’t that count as using his position?
Zhou Mi said: Don’t be ridiculous. It’s mutual pleasure where we both get what we want. I’m not trying to gain anything from him, and I’m certainly not at a disadvantage.
Zhou Mi always believed she wasn’t losing out.
Including the first time she slept with Zhang Lian a year ago, which was wonderfully unforgettable.
That day, after a breakup, she went to a bar and happened to meet him. It was hard to say whether it was a romantic encounter or just recklessness.
In her slight intoxication, she experienced extreme emotions, crying one moment and laughing the next. She treated him like a punching bag, alternating between scolding and hitting, then like a big teddy bear, pouring out her grievances. The man remained gentle throughout. Later, emboldened, she urged him to get a room.
The man didn’t refuse and handled it with ease. From prelude to finale, he was an excellent pianist, guiding her through flowing musical movements.
Zhou Mi nestled in his arms all night, drifting in and out of sleep, particularly attached to his comforting warmth.
The next morning, as dawn broke and sunlight thinly adhered to the curtains, the man got up and put on his shirt. Seeing him fastening his cuffs, she felt reluctant and boldly expressed her desire: “Can we meet again and maintain this kind of relationship?”
Hearing this, the man paused and quietly examined her.
“Will you?” Zhou Mi wasn’t deterred by the scrutiny in his eyes, even boldly moving forward, sitting up like a little girlfriend, coquettishly coaxing.
He smiled faintly: “All right.”
That day, they established three rules: meet only at designated hotels, reveal no personal information, and not disturb each other at other times. They exchanged only phone numbers.
Before their second meeting, they adhered to a high level of contractual spirit, not exchanging a single word, only sending each other medical examination reports with names crossed out from within the past three months.
Because they met on the fifteenth of each month, always during a full moon, Zhou Mi saved the man’s name as “Brother Wolf” in her phone. When talking about him with friends, she also jokingly called him this.
Thinking of this, Zhou Mi exited WeChat and looked at her contact list.
The four characters “Brother Wolf” still stood there, looking out of place among the string of names or nicknames, but she hadn’t changed it to “Zhang Lian” or “Boss,” and she couldn’t guess what Zhang Lian had saved her as.
She thought it probably wasn’t a very flattering description.