You Jin pushed her against the wall, the force so strong that her back throbbed with pain.
He was tall, and his robust build loomed over Song Wanxi like an insurmountable mountain.
Her wrists were pinned above her head against the wall by one of his hands, leaving her unable to move.
You Jin leaned down, his cold, sharp eyes level with hers, while the web of his other hand clamped onto her jaw, tilting her face upward.
Song Wanxi’s heart pounded, her breath filled with the faint scent of alcohol on the man. Her cheeks ached from his grip as she stared at him in fear and unease.
This was the first time in two years she had been this close to You Jin, seeing clearly his thick, sword-like brows, deep phoenix eyes, high-bridged nose, and pale, thin lips.
His refined features were strikingly handsome, and a faint teardrop mole at the corner of his eye added an extraordinary allure.
But the dangerous, overwhelming aura he exuded pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.
He had never touched her before—no physical contact whatsoever.
Song Wanxi nervously swallowed, her voice trembling slightly. “Are you drunk?”
You Jin was icy cold, his voice so deep it seemed to be squeezed from his chest. “Song Wanxi, do you know how utterly repulsive you are?”
Song Wanxi’s heart ached faintly, and her eyes grew moist.
Of course she knew.
If he didn’t find her repulsive, why would he refuse to touch her after two years of marriage?
Song Wanxi held back the tears welling in her eyes, forcing her voice to sound calm. “You Jin, if you want to stay married, stay. If not, divorce. You don’t have to force yourself.”
You Jin let out a cold laugh, his fingers tightening slightly, making her jaw ache. “Force myself? You’re stunningly beautiful—nice to have around the house for looks. You don’t spend my money, and you handle the chores, saving me a fortune on a housekeeper.”
His words struck like a sharp blade, plunging deep into her heart, the pain so intense she could barely breathe.
“Why are you doing this?” Song Wanxi’s hands trembled with anger as she struggled uselessly against his grip. Her voice was choked, but she stubbornly refused to let the tears spill.
They had met through a blind date.
Her parents had been pressuring her to marry since she was twenty, just to use her bride price to build a house back in their hometown.
Their nagging calls had tormented her for four years. Unable to bear the pressure any longer, she agreed to a blind date at twenty-four.
You Jin had been introduced to her by her university professor.
He was a year older than her, from a prominent family, the heir to the You Group. Tall, robust, handsome, and charming—he was the epitome of a flawless catch.
At first, You Jin had been wonderful to her—gentle, considerate, passionate, and devoted.
She didn’t want mother-in-law conflicts and hoped to move out after marriage.
You Jin bought a two-hundred-square-meter flat near the research institute where she worked.
She didn’t like noise and disliked having strangers in the house.
You Jin dismissed the housekeeper and part-time cleaners, sharing the household chores with her.
She had her own career and dreams and didn’t want to become a stay-at-home wife after marriage.
You Jin respected her deeply and never asked her to quit her job.
She had never been in a relationship and was traditional and reserved.
You Jin’s feelings for her were restrained and respectful—gentlemanly and polite.
Though she wasn’t good at expressing love, she had genuinely fallen for this incredibly wonderful man, sinking deeper and deeper until she couldn’t pull herself out.
Within just a few months of dating, she accepted his romantic proposal, full of hope and anticipation.
After the wedding, everything changed.
She didn’t know why, but You Jin seemed to become a completely different person—distant and indifferent toward her.
Two years of marriage, and they weren’t like husband and wife, but rather like familiar yet estranged roommates.
This kind of relationship made Song Wanxi miserable, and she didn’t know how much longer she could endure.
She could only convince herself not to dwell on it, to take marriage lightly, to take love lightly, and just make do.
Spilled water can’t be retrieved, and neither can a true heart.
Loving the wrong person was a torment that cut to the bone, and she had no strength left to love anyone else.
You Jin’s gaze was deep and lifeless, fixed intently on her flushed cheeks as she seethed with anger. His voice was low and hoarse. “Song Wanxi, no reason. I just hate how you always look so indifferent, with that cold face every day, like bland, tasteless plain water—dull and boring.”
Song Wanxi’s vision blurred with tears, and a sharp, throbbing pain tore through the deepest part of her heart. She couldn’t take his cruel words any longer.
For the first time in two years, she lashed out at him.
“Then why did you marry me?” Her voice rose, carrying the anger and grievance she had suppressed for so long. “Are you that desperate?”
A cold smirk curled at the corner of You Jin’s lips, his gaze still locked onto her face. He paused for a few seconds, then slowly released her and took a step back. Suddenly, he said in a low voice, “Yes, I was being a fool.”
Song Wanxi hadn’t expected that reaction from him. She rubbed her aching wrists, held back her tears, and turned to go into the room.
Closing the door behind her, her body went limp. She leaned against the door, and the tears came silently—large, icy droplets sliding down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.
Song Wanxi didn’t sleep a wink all night. It wasn’t until nearly dawn that she finally drifted off from sheer exhaustion.
She only slept four hours and woke up at nine in the morning.
She got up, washed up, and changed her clothes.
She put the dirty laundry into the washing machine, then set it to wash and dry.
She casually pressed the button on the robotic vacuum, and the flat, round machine began cleaning the floor.
Sunlight streamed through the glass balcony doors into the spacious living room, warm and bright—yet it couldn’t reach her icy heart.
As usual, she made two breakfasts. Today it was tomato and egg noodles.
She sat calmly at the dining table, eating as if chewing wax.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
She set down her chopsticks and rose to answer the door.
Seeing the woman at the door who had rung the bell, Song Wanxi’s eyes darkened slightly, and her already gloomy mood sank even further.
“Good morning, sister-in-law.” Wu Weiwei smiled sweetly, extending a large brown paper bag. “The air conditioning at the club was too cold last night, so Jin gave me his jacket. I happened to be passing by, so I thought I’d bring it up.”
Song Wanxi didn’t take it. “No need to return it. He has a thing about cleanliness—he won’t use anything someone else has touched.”
Wu Weiwei gave an awkward smile and, without being invited, walked straight past Song Wanxi into the house. Her black high heels clicked sharply against the clean floor, as if announcing her presence.
“Sister-in-law, Jin only has that cleanliness thing with you, right? We grew up together—shared the same clothes, ate from the same bowl, drank from the same cup. I’ve never known him to have any such issue.”
Only with her?
Song Wanxi stood motionless, her body rigid, as if a string inside her had suddenly snapped—silent, yet the pain made her chest ache.
Two winters ago, she’d been reading in the living room. Feeling cold, she’d picked up You Jin’s trench coat draped over the sofa and worn it for a while.
When she returned it, he’d said, “I have a thing about cleanliness. Throw it away.”
She’d thought You Jin just didn’t like others using his things.
Turns out, he simply loathed her.
How ridiculous!
Song Wanxi couldn’t bring herself to laugh. She closed the door, her heart heavy, stomach cramping, appetite gone.
She picked up the bowl and chopsticks from the table and carried them to the kitchen to dump the food.
Wu Weiwei wandered around the house, then leaned against the kitchen doorway. “Sister-in-law, where’s Jin’s room?”
Song Wanxi washed the dishes. “Leave the jacket on the sofa. He drank too much last night—he won’t be up for a while.”
Wu Weiwei let out a light laugh, a hint of mockery in her tone. “Jin and I are like brothers. We used to share a bed all the time. No such taboos between us.”
Song Wanxi’s washing paused. She gripped the sponge tightly, her knuckles straining with hidden force.
Wu Weiwei’s voice rang out again, dripping with unapologetic arrogance. “Sister-in-law, I just took a little tour of your place and peeked into your bedroom. So you and Jin sleep in separate rooms?”
Song Wanxi hurled the sponge into the sink, the dishes clattering with a sharp ring.
She washed her hands, turned off the faucet, and with a cold face strode past Wu Weiwei, grabbed her backpack from the sofa, slipped on her canvas shoes without a word, and left the house.
Watching Song Wanxi storm off, Wu Weiwei’s smile grew even more smug. She crossed her arms, sauntered around the living room, peering left and right, touching this and that.
Finally, she twisted open the door to You Jin’s room and stepped inside.