“Is it still not a misunderstanding?”
After fiercely spanking her son’s rear a dozen times, Liu Ruoxi vented some of her anger and sneered at him coldly.
“Yes… no…” Yang Haoran quickly corrected himself.
“It was my fault… all my fault… This little one won’t dare anymore.”
“Won’t dare? Which day of yours isn’t your courage overflowing?” The mere mention of it reignited Liu Ruoxi’s fury. It was early morning, and she’d already encountered something infuriating, so she swung her hand again, delivering another hard slap to his backside to let off more steam.
“You’re still hitting me…” Yang Haoran felt like crying without tears. “You’ve vented your anger now, you’ve hit me enough, Mother. Can you let go of this little one’s hand?”
Yang Haoran’s face was pressed against the floor, the icy chill of the surface mirroring the chill in his heart.
At his words, Liu Ruoxi still felt unsatisfied deep down, but after a moment’s thought, she snorted coldly and released her grip.
“Mom, do you know martial arts or something?”
Finally peeling his face from the floor he now held dear, Yang Haoran climbed to his feet. He rubbed his still sore backside a few times, though his expression remained unconcerned as he shot his mother a flirtatious look.
Seeing her son’s cheeky grin, Liu Ruoxi felt she’d gone too easy on him earlier. Her face darkened as she said, “No. Get lost. You annoy me just by being here.”
“Then earlier… how did you… you know…” Yang Haoran flailed his arms, trying to describe the scene from moments ago. He hadn’t even had time to react before his mother had pinned him down like some criminal.
“I said no means no. What are you blabbering about?” Liu Ruoxi had no patience to explain herself. She cut him off irritably. “Get lost and stop bothering me.”
Just then, a voice drifted into their ears.
“What was all that noise just now, Ruoxi?”
Yang Wenfu had been in Room 501 and heard the sharp slapping sounds. He walked over.
He hadn’t witnessed the scene, but seeing his wife’s foul mood, he assumed their son had done something to upset her again. Glancing at the son pretending to be innocent, Yang Wenfu stepped in as the peacemaker, frowning as he said, “Haoran, apologize to your mom. You’re always getting into mischief and giving us no peace.”
His father’s arrival startled Yang Haoran, but seeing the man’s expression, he figured Dad was clueless about what had happened. Seizing the opportunity, he bowed toward his mother. “Mom, I was wrong.”
Watching his son deliver such a half-hearted apology and bow, Yang Wenfu sighed inwardly. He himself had a steady temperament, yet his son took after no one in that regard.
Liu Ruoxi shot Yang Haoran a glance, then looked at her oblivious husband. A complicated mix of emotions stirred within her, and she let out a faint hum.
Some things were better kept from him forever.
Once Liu Ruoxi had finished preparing breakfast and brought it to the table, the family gathered around to eat.
Yang Mengyao glanced at her brother. Seeing him eat quietly and properly for once struck her as odd. He was usually the chattiest one at the table, but now he seemed almost guilty.
After breakfast, Yang Wenfu grabbed his briefcase and headed to work.
He was a department manager at a company that was neither large nor small. Thanks to his steady demeanor and strong capabilities, his boss held him in high regard and entrusted him with many projects. His days at the office were invariably busy.
Yang Wenfu arrived at the company as usual and clocked in. With a beep, he stepped into the spacious, brightly lit lobby on the first floor, its simple renovations giving it an open feel.
Rows of cubicle-like workstations divided the space with partitions. One employee sat at his desk, munching on a fried dough stick. Spotting Yang Wenfu, he looked up and greeted him. “Morning, Manager Yang.”
“Mm.”
“Morning, Manager Yang.” “Morning, Manager Yang.”
The greetings drew the attention of the other employees, who chimed in one after another. Sucking up to the boss might not always be possible, but basic office politics was a must.
Yang Wenfu smiled and nodded in response as he headed down the corridor to the right. His workstation wasn’t in the main hall; as a manager, he had his own office.
One female employee in the hall watched his retreating back, a glint of interest flashing in her eyes. Without hesitating, she grabbed a file from her desk and followed him.
Yang Wenfu reached his office door, unlocked it with his key, and stepped inside.
It was a spacious, bright room furnished simply: a sofa, a cabinet, a coffee machine, and a desk with chair and computer, leaving it feeling quite empty.
He set down his briefcase and, before diving into work, decided to brew himself a cup of coffee for a pick-me-up, as was his habit.
Yang Wenfu took a light sip of the freshly brewed coffee while booting up his computer, ready to start the day. At that moment, a knock came from the door.
“Knock knock…” “Come in.”
Yang Wenfu set down his coffee and looked up.
“Manager Yang, this is the proposal Xiao Chen put together yesterday. Please take a look.”
In walked a beautiful woman dressed in a black blazer and hip-hugging skirt. Her slender legs, sheathed in flesh-colored stockings, ended in a pair of black high heels.
“Just set it down there. And button up your collar. This is the office, not some client meeting.”
Yang Wenfu’s brow furrowed slightly at the sight of her—especially since the top two buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing a generous expanse of skin and the edge of a black lace bra.
“Manager, doesn’t it look good?”
Far from embarrassed, the woman tugged at her collar a bit more, exposing even more of her smooth, pale cleavage.
Yang Wenfu frowned in helpless exasperation and addressed her by name. “Zhuang Hui, mind your image. I told you, that time was just an accident. I’m a married man with a family. Don’t get any ideas about me.”
“Is that so? But I’ve heard you say that things between you and your wife have been rocky for a long time—constant cold wars.”
Zhuang Hui pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing her legs gracefully and twiddling her fingers in a delicate gesture, as if the comment had slipped out casually.
“That was in the past. Couples argue and have their disagreements—it’s normal.” Yang Wenfu explained.
Zhuang Hui gazed deeply at the man before her. Though approaching middle age, Yang Wenfu was still strikingly handsome, the picture of a refined, mature uncle exuding charm.
From the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, he’d captivated Zhuang Hui, fresh out of university and new to the working world. She’d been with the company for four years now, evolving from a somewhat naive college grad into the office’s resident social butterfly.
A month earlier, at a company dinner, Yang Wenfu had gotten drunk. Under her deliberate prompting, the conversation turned to family matters. Perhaps it had been weighing on him too long, or maybe the alcohol loosened his tongue, but he’d let slip that he and his wife had been in a prolonged cold war.
In that instant, Zhuang Hui could no longer suppress her pent-up feelings. She wanted this man. So, after the party, she helped the intoxicated Yang Wenfu to a hotel room to “rest” and took advantage of his muddled state to initiate intimacy.
At his words, Zhuang Hui suddenly realized something and pressed, “What you’re saying… does that mean you want to reconcile with your wife?”
“Why?”
She could no longer maintain her composed facade.
She didn’t want to be the other woman. Her ultimate goal was to marry the man before her, and his marital discord had presented the perfect opportunity—and a convenient excuse for her conscience.
“There’s no why.”
Yang Wenfu had no desire to explain further. He just wanted to put some distance between himself and this woman.
As the company’s go-to for charming clients, Zhuang Hui was sharp-witted and adept at reading situations. Her emotions had clouded her judgment for a moment, but now it clicked.
“Oh~ I get it. It’s because of me. We slept together, you cheated, and now you’re feeling guilty, right?”
