Qin Yuhe lay there, trying to calm himself down.
Not just physically, but psychologically too.
Being rejected in this kind of matter was quite a blow to a man's ego.
Qin Yuhe told himself over and over again: It's fine, she's just hurt. It hurts, so she doesn't want to do it.
Yet, a thought he couldn't control kept surfacing: She doesn't want to do it because she doesn't like doing it with me.
Beside him, the woman's breathing was even, soft, and long. She was sleeping soundly.
Qin Yuhe tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.
He picked up his phone and posted a thread on Hupu, a forum popular among straight men:
Why would a wife refuse to have sex with her husband?
Perhaps the title was too direct and the content too explosive, but the onlookers quickly swarmed in.
The top-voted comment read: [Bro, she doesn't love you.]
The second highest: [Your wife is cheating on you and saving herself for her lover.]
The third: [You're just terrible in bed. If you never make her feel good and she gets no pleasure out of it, why would she want to do it with you? As a man, you should reflect on yourself first. Your skills are worse than mud, yet you have the nerve to ask why.]
Aside from the men's replies, a woman's comment also garnered many likes:
[I really, really, really hate doing it with my husband. I loathe it to the extreme. The moment he touches me, I feel disgusted and furious, extremely furious. Just now, he demanded we do our routine duty. I couldn't push him away, so with the lights off, I cried and bit the blanket while doing it. I am just so disgusted by him. I really am. Whenever this is brought up, I can't stand it. Just give me a three-second man! I really can't take it anymore. I'm too disgusted to sleep with my husband.]
Qin Yuhe frowned as he read.
Many other men appeared in the comments, telling him:
[Get used to it, bro. My wife is the same.]
[I've been married for twenty years, and we haven't had a sex life for nineteen of them.]
[My wife is like this too. I've tried everything—vibrators, lingerie, stockings, lube—and she still won't let me touch her. What should I do!]
And so on and so forth.
Qin Yuhe had come looking for answers, but instead of answers, he found a bunch of miserable men in the same boat.
Are all women like this?
Or are all men like this?
It turns out that people should look at happy things before bed. Reading this depressing stuff not only causes insomnia but also nightmares.
Qin Yuhe had a sleepless night.
………
In the morning, Song Xinya sat at the dining table, looking at Qin Yuhe opposite her. Her gaze swept over the dark bags under his eyes as she asked out of concern,
"Mr. Qin, did you not sleep well last night?"
Qin Yuhe downed a large mug of coffee and said, "I slept very well."
Song Xinya: "Then why do you have dark circles under your eyes?"
Qin Yuhe: "I never get dark circles."
Song Xinya stared at the bruising color under his eyes and murmured, "Maybe I'm just going blind."
They hadn't tossed about last night and went to bed early. By all accounts, he should have rested well, but today he looked completely drained.
Conversely, when they had gone at it all night previously, he was glowing the next day.
Song Xinya couldn't understand it. Just what happened last night to make him so mentally and physically exhausted?
After finishing breakfast, Qin Yuhe gave a servant a look.
The servant began handing out steamed cornbread to Qin Yuyan and Song Tingye.
The two kids squatted by the wall, their eyes gleaming with hunger. The way they reached out for the cornbread made them look exactly like inmates in a labor camp.
Clenching the cornbread, tears streamed down their faces.
Even prisoners knew how many years they were sentenced to; they couldn't possibly eat cornbread for the rest of their lives. Knowing their sentence and release date at least gave them something to look forward to.
As Qin Yuhe stood up to leave, Song Tingye called out to him, "Brother-in-law, I just want to ask, did you give me a life sentence, or a three-day sentence?"
Qin Yuhe: "Seven days."
Song Tingye: "It's only day two and I'm already seeing stars from hunger. When I look at the willow tree in the yard, I want to strip its bark and eat it."
After playing the victim, Song Tingye put on a flattering, sycophantic face. "Brother-in-law, could you please reduce our seven-day sentence to a three-day one?"
Qin Yuyan acted cute and whined, "Please, brother."
Song Tingye mimicked her tone, "Please, brother-in-law."
Qin Yuhe glanced back at them. "Beg one more time, and your sentence increases by a day."
Song Tingye: "Brother-in-law, you're too ruthless! We beg you, and you add a day to our sentence."
Qin Yuhe: "I meant, it increases by a year."
Song Tingye and Qin Yuyan stood frozen in place, their mouths hanging wide open.
………
Qin Yuhe drove Song Xinya to work, and this time she didn't refuse.
Since Qin Yuhe had suddenly appeared in the 500-person work group chat to defend her, the employees could all tell their relationship was far from ordinary.
If she continued to insist they had nothing to do with each other, it would just seem too fake.
The Rolls-Royce pulled up to the Qin Group headquarters building, and Song Xinya stepped out of the car with Qin Yuhe.
The two walked into the building together.
In the lobby, a woman in a white dress kept looking toward the entrance.
Upon seeing Qin Yuhe's figure, she hurriedly ran toward the door.
Zhao Yinian had been staking out the lobby for two hours just to catch a glimpse of Qin Yuhe.
To leave a deep impression on him, she sprinted in her high heels to open the door for him.
It might have seemed like a trivial gesture, but if she didn't fight for it, she wouldn't even get the chance.
Zhao Yinian ran until she was a meter away from the door, then suddenly braked.
Because she saw Qin Yuhe take two quick steps to the entrance, push the door open from the outside, and stand gentlemanly to the side. He held the door open with his arm as Song Xinya walked in.
He was holding the door for Song Xinya.
Zhao Yinian stood rooted to the spot, watching Song Xinya walk past Qin Yuhe. Once Song Xinya was fully inside the lobby, Qin Yuhe gently closed the door, as if terrified the sound would disturb her.
He was considerate down to the smallest detail.
Zhao Yinian watched helplessly as Qin Yuhe and Song Xinya walked forward together. From start to finish, his eyes were glued to Song Xinya; he didn't even glance her way.
She watched as they headed toward the CEO's private elevator.
It was the morning rush hour. A crowd of people clustered around the elevators, pushing and shoving to get inside.
You press against me, I push against you, squished tightly together. One person who had been holding a steamed bun stepped out of the crowd to find it had been flattened into a pancake.
Zhao Yinian walked toward the elevators and joined the squeezing crowd. She turned her head, only to see Song Xinya elegantly stepping into Qin Yuhe's private elevator.
As soon as Song Xinya entered the company doors, she was met with Chen Siyan's beaming smile.
"Ms. Song, you're finally here!"
Chen Siyan could finally openly say, "Long time no see, I missed you so much." After all, CEO Qin couldn't hear him anyway.
He handed a cup of milk tea to Song Xinya: "Mornings go better with milk tea. My treat, a Cheese-Strawberry-Mango-Peach Tea."
Song Xinya: "Is this tea in the mafia or something? Its background is so complicated."
Chen Siyan was never at a loss for words: "You bet. It's a gangster in the milk tea world, also known as a mixed breed."
While the two of them were chatting and laughing, Zhao Yinian walked in: "Manager Chen, are the files for the clients I'm visiting today ready? Eight clients, and not a single one can be missing."
Chen Siyan: "Visiting eight clients in a single day? Director Zhao, you're literally trading your life for money, just to spend that money to keep yourself alive."
Zhao Yinian shot a sidelong glance at Song Xinya and said in a snide tone: "I sit at a cubicle desk, not on the boss's lap. I make an honest living through my own hard work, unlike those women who just spread their legs and sit on the boss's lap to make a quick buck."
Chen Siyan: "Not just anyone gets to sit on the boss's lap. You'd probably love to sit on Mr. Qin's lap, Director Zhao, but he wouldn't even look twice at you."
"A poor craftsman blames his tools. You're a bitter melon trying to pass as candied fruit, a sour lemon jealous of a sweet orange's life. Look at yourself, if you aren't miserable, who is!"
