Chapter 4: Are You Single?

Did Mr. Huo really have to ask his wife for permission to go home?

Unable to watch any longer, Assistant Li asked, “Shall I have the car brought around, Mr. Huo?”

Congli glanced up and put away his phone. “…No.”

He never sent the message. He was afraid Jingwan would be angry if he returned without warning.

When she was in a bad mood, she sometimes refused even to look at him. Forget lunch; she wouldn’t let him set foot through the door.

It might be the Huo residence, but Jingwan was more like its head.

“How are things with Ji Huaizhi?” Congli asked. “I don’t want her to suffer because of him. Deal with those friends of his as soon as possible.”

Li was efficient. “Don’t worry, Mr. Huo. They’re all in the hospital. I doubt they’ll dare slander Madam again.”

“Good.” Congli never took his eyes off the screen, hoping Jingwan might send him a message, even a single character.

“I’ll arrange lunch for you now.”

After Li left, the housekeeper sent Congli several messages.

Housekeeper: Mr. Huo, Madam and the young master are having lunch.

Housekeeper: Madam is in a good mood today. She’s willing to talk to him more.

Housekeeper: She served him lots of food, and he ate it all.

Congli pressed his lips together as he read. He longed to be home having lunch with his wife and son instead of eating a business lunch in his cold office.

* * *

After lunch, Jingwan stretched out on a lounge chair in the sunroom. She had finally recovered from the unreality of her rebirth; the sunlight made her feel alive again.

She hadn’t looked at her phone all morning. When she picked it up, she found the screen crowded with missed calls and messages.

The contact name “Brother Huaizhi,” followed by a red heart, made her stomach turn. She deleted the nickname at once.

Ji Huaizhi: Su Jingwan, I was only joking with my friends. Do you have to make such a fuss?

Ji Huaizhi: So I said you were obsessed with me. What was wrong with that?

Ji Huaizhi: You want to be with me, don’t you? It’s only reasonable that you show some sincerity. I want a two-hundred-square-meter apartment downtown, a top-of-the-line sports car, and shares in Huo Group. That’s what it takes to suit my status.

So yesterday Ji Huaizhi had upset her, and she’d taken it out on Congli that night, making him kneel, pulling his tie, and humiliating him in every way.

For a man of such power and standing, Congli had tolerated a great deal.

Perhaps because she hadn’t answered immediately, Ji had blocked her. He’d unblocked her again in the morning, and when she still didn’t reply, he’d started bombarding her with calls.

Ji Huaizhi: What is your problem, Su Jingwan? My friends were beaten so badly they’re in the hospital. Did you send someone?

Ji Huaizhi: Can’t you take a joke? You have to pay them substantial compensation!

Ji Huaizhi: Why aren’t you answering? You dare ignore my calls now?

Ji Huaizhi: If I hadn’t sent you to Huo Congli’s bed, how would you have had his child and married into the Huo family?

Ji Huaizhi: Don’t forget, I deserve a share of all the wealth you have today!

Her heart chilled as she read, and she found herself remembering her first night with Congli.

* * *

Four years ago, just after she graduated from college, Ji Huaizhi had taken her to a bar to play truth or dare with his friends.

They had found every excuse to make her drink. Thoroughly intoxicated, she had been carried to a bed, dimly aware of Ji’s voice and that of a middle-aged man.

“Enjoy yourself, Mr. Wang,” Ji had said.

Then Mr. Wang’s wife called to check on him, and he hurried out to deal with her.

Jingwan woke with her stomach churning and vomited until she was spent. The room smelled awful, so she left on her own. She ran into Huo Congli as soon as she entered the elevator.

He didn’t look entirely sober either. He leaned against the cool wall, his sharply tailored dark suit disheveled, tie loose and two collar buttons undone, revealing pale collarbones.

Drink had undone his immaculate executive appearance. He looked both restrained and enticing, his low breaths scented with alcohol.

Captivated by his looks, Jingwan threw herself at him and kissed him against the elevator wall until everything spun.

The world reeled around them as they kissed, heedless of everything else.

Her hands slipped boldly beneath his clothes, roaming freely over his muscles. With sweet breath and a sultry gaze, she asked, “Are you single? Want to have some fun with me?”

His breathing grew ragged, color rising at the corners of his eyes. He bent, lifted her over his shoulder, and carried her to a room.

It was the first time Jingwan had lain on the bed in a presidential suite. It was softer and more comfortable than she’d imagined, bouncing slightly beneath her—a quality particularly useful for certain activities.

That night had been wilder than anything she’d known. The feeling was addictive. She had clung to Congli, asking for more, all manner of sweet names she’d never used before spilling from her lips without thought.

And that was how they conceived Huo Yujing.

Heat flooded her face at the memory. She patted her cheeks. This wasn’t the time for that. She forced herself to think carefully about what had happened.

Ji had graduated from the same university. With his connections and standing, how could he have known an elite like Congli? The men he could reach were more likely to be greedy, lecherous businessmen with swollen bellies, or newly rich men looking for affairs and mistresses.

From the beginning, Ji had intended to deliver her to one of those men, using her body as a stepping stone to a better future for himself.

How disgusting. In her previous life she had been blind, letting him deceive, exploit, and humiliate her.

Jingwan promptly blocked him. Out of sight, out of mind.

She took a couple of sips of juice and began planning her future. This time she would live for herself, protect Little Yu, and make it up to Congli.

Nearby, a maid watering flowers watched her covertly. Seeing Jingwan glued to her phone, she assumed Madam must be talking to the pretty boy outside again.

The maid, Xiao Wei, had been placed in the house by Congli’s mother to keep an eye on Jingwan. She embellished what she’d seen when reporting to Mrs. Huo, eager to drag Jingwan down from her position as Congli’s wife.

How could such a vain, calculating woman deserve him or a place in the Huo family?

* * *

At six that evening, Congli arrived home on time.

The house was quiet. Upstairs, Jingwan was painting with Little Yu in the studio.

Congli handed his coat to the housekeeper and undid two buttons at his collar. “Did Wanwan stay home all day?”

“Yes. Madam spent the whole day with the young master. She told him a story in the morning, had lunch with him, and spent the afternoon in the studio.”

Congli raised a brow, more delighted than surprised. Jingwan hadn’t gone to see Ji Huaizhi today.

He strode upstairs, his step lighter than usual…