Chapter 11: The Man of a Night's Indulgence

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Shen Feiyu, her neck gripped fiercely, met his gaze filled with murderous intent. A chill ran down her spine. She quickly shook her head, her eyes reddened as she tried to show innocence.

Chen Bozhou did not release his hold. His lips brushed against her ear, a cold warning: “Send her away. If Tang Tang finds out about us, I want you to suffer... worse than death.”

Suddenly, the hand on her neck loosened. Shen Feiyu coughed, clutching her neck.

Jian Tang knocked on the door expressionlessly, her tone filled with concern: “Shen Feiyu, what’s wrong?”

Under Chen Bozhou’s icy glare, Shen Feiyu whispered hoarsely: “I... I’m fine. I just realized... I started my period. Sister, could you help me buy a pack of sanitary pads?”

Jian Tang replied indifferently, “Perfect timing. Bozhou just went outside. I’ll call him now and have him run the errand.”

Chen Bozhou’s jaw tensed tightly as he stared dead at Shen Feiyu.

Shen Feiyu hurriedly said, “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Hearing her flustered nervousness, Jian Tang’s moist lips curled into a mocking smile. “Oh?”

Shen Feiyu clenched her palms, stammering, “I... I suddenly found a spare sanitary pad in my bag. Sister, you should get back to what you were doing. Don’t worry about me.”

Jian Tang, having had her fun, turned and left.

As footsteps faded outside, Chen Bozhou pressed his palm firmly on the back of Shen Feiyu’s neck. His roguishly handsome face was heavy with gloom. “I don’t want today’s incident to happen again. Understand?”

Tears streamed down Shen Feiyu’s face. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve always obediently been your bed companion. What happened just now was an accident...”

The wedding banquet hall.

The person in charge, standing by the rules, saw Jian Tang return and quickly brought over the blueprints.

Jian Tang, indifferent to the wedding she would not attend, found an excuse and left the venue early.

She wandered aimlessly along the roadside.

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In the warmth of spring, branches sprouted new shoots, tender green hanging thick on the boughs.

Amid this thriving vitality, Jian Tang—still in her youth—looked like an aged soul, draped in desolate gray, her eyes filled with loneliness and chill.

At a street corner, she encountered a small stall selling candied hawthorns. Pausing to scan the QR code, she noticed a boy and girl in blue-and-white school uniforms, fresh and radiant.

“Boss, one strawberry, one hawthorn,” they said cheerfully.

Jian Tang glanced sideways, watching the shy girl tug at her backpack straps and the boy, vibrant and dashing in his bright clothes.

Suddenly, memories long past flooded her mind.

She had been pampered like a princess since childhood, somewhat delicate and averse to exhausting physical activity.

Chen Bozhou, however, loved sports—sweating on the courts, competing fiercely, a true athlete.

His favorite pastime was dragging the reluctant Jian Tang to exercise. “Tang Tang, my dear Tang Tang, you’ll get sick without exercise. Just run a lap. If you run a lap a day, I won’t bother you anymore.”

He was like a monk chanting scriptures; she ignored him, but he kept nagging in her ear.

Until she grew tired of the noise, looked up, and met his bright, sunny smile. “Come on, Tang Tang.”

Jian Tang held a skewer of candied hawthorn. The boy and girl had already walked away, laughing and chatting. She bit into half a hawthorn berry—so sour.

Not the candies, but the sourness gnawing at her heart.

She wandered aimlessly until she stopped before a brightly lit, bustling bar.

The noise and pulsating music might drown her aching sorrow.

She picked a random seat and sat down.

Moments later, intoxicated, the scenes of couples embracing on the dance floor collided with the image of Chen Bozhou’s secret affair with Shen Feiyu, assaulting her confused mind.

A wild, restless thought surged in her brain.

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She wanted to find a man for a one-night fling.

This absurd idea swelled under the influence of alcohol.

When a tall, slender figure sat beside her, she lifted her hazy eyes.

In the dim light was a noble, handsome face—like a masterpiece sculpted by the gods.

Somehow familiar.

Jian Tang tilted her head, unable to recall who he was, but it seemed irrelevant.

She raised her glass and clinked it with his.

In such a place, this gesture carried an ambiguous invitation.

Shen Suinian glanced up slightly.

“Alone?” Jian Tang’s intoxicated voice brimmed with an indescribable charm. Since he had come over first, she assumed he was open to an encounter. “Care to drink together?”

Shen Suinian’s long fingers slowly rotated the glass. “You still remember who I am?”

Jian Tang thought it didn’t matter and asked directly, “Are you free later?”

Shen Suinian looked her up and down leisurely.

Lacking experience, Jian Tang straightforwardly took a bank card from her bag and slid it across the smooth glass table toward him.