Chapter Ten: Tan Zhen's Thoughts

After returning home, Cui Hao put the child down and, as usual, took a shower and prepared for bed. Yet, lying on the bed, he found himself unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the face of Zhou Xiaoqi, whom he had only met three times, would involuntarily appear in his mind. He could not explain why this kept happening, but he was certain of one thing: he had a family of his own. He did want to protect Zhou Xiaoqi, but not to possess her. She was in the prime of her youth and he should not ruin that.

In his memory, Zhou Xiaoqi was always alone, seemingly friendless, with a faint sadness in her eyes. Her frail figure and their frequent, unexpected encounters made her image linger in his thoughts.

Feeling restless, Cui Hao turned on the soft yellow lamp by the bed and lit a cigarette.

Noticing her husband still awake, Tan Zhen reached out and wrapped her arms around his slender waist, frowning gently. “Honey, what’s wrong? Smoking so late at night?”

Cui Hao rarely behaved this way, and his actions now brought a touch of worry to his wife. Looking at the woman in his arms, he stubbed out the cigarette and kissed her gently on the forehead. “It’s nothing. There’s just been a lot at work lately, and I haven’t had much time for you.”

Having been married for years, Tan Zhen understood her husband well. Hearing his words, she was reassured. “It’s all right. We still have two children, don’t we? I don’t understand your work and can’t help you there, but don’t worry about things at home. Get some rest.” She kissed him, only stopping when he responded, as if this was the only way she could feel secure.

People say the happiness of a marriage depends on intimacy; without harmony in their sex life, a marriage is doomed. After all, no man can remain chaste forever. Even though they had been married for over a decade, Tan Zhen had never assumed Cui Hao had only ever been with her. She knew that after marrying him, she had never worked again. She didn’t understand his business, but she knew that occasional flirtations were unavoidable. These things never bothered her, as long as Cui Hao didn’t fall in love with someone else and still cared for the family. That was enough for her. Though she vaguely knew about his liaisons over the years, she trusted his daily conduct.

To Tan Zhen, a man was like sand in one’s hand—the tighter you grip, the faster it slips away. There’s a saying: “If you can’t hold the sand, you might as well let it go.” Though that made sense, Tan Zhen’s dependence on and attachment to Cui Hao meant she could never really let go.

Around three in the morning, Tan Zhen, who was usually a sound sleeper, was awakened by the sound of a message on her phone. Groggy, she picked up her phone, puzzled—it never rang at this hour. Sure enough, there were no new messages. She reached over Cui Hao and picked up his phone instead.

Opening the message, she saw: “Hao, you haven’t come by in a while. I kind of miss you.” The number was saved under the name Jiang Mo.

Tan Zhen knew Cui Hao had nothing serious with this woman. She never denied her husband’s appeal—successful, not yet forty, and still good-looking. People say a man’s prime is at forty; if so, Cui Hao was still a bud waiting to blossom.

She’d seen similar messages on his phone before. Without a second thought, she replied, knowing even if Cui Hao found out, he wouldn’t say anything: “Hello, and who might you be? I’m Cui Hao’s wife. He’s asleep now. I don’t care what your relationship is, but I hope you won’t contact him again. He has a family, and one day, so will you. You wouldn’t want anyone to ruin your family, would you?”

After more than ten minutes, there were no further messages. It seemed the girl named Jiang Mo would not reply again. Tan Zhen turned off the light and went back to sleep.

Just as dawn was breaking, she glanced at the clock—half past six. Her internal alarm woke her, and she got up to prepare breakfast, planning to call Cui Hao and the children at seven. Years of running the household had made her quick and efficient in the kitchen.

She went to the children’s room, as she did every morning, to give them a good-morning kiss. “Sweethearts, time to get up for breakfast. Daddy will take you to school later.”

Duo Duo and An An opened their eyes sleepily. Tan Zhen dressed them in the clothes she’d prepared, took them to the bathroom to wash up, then led them to the table. Once the children were seated, she returned to the bedroom to wake Cui Hao.

To her surprise, Cui Hao was already dressed and ready. She hugged him from behind, resting her head on his back and asked softly, “Why are you up so early today? Didn’t sleep well last night?”

Facing the mirror as he tied his tie, Cui Hao glanced at the arms wrapped around his waist. “No, I just have some things to do today, so I got up early.”

“Yesterday, I saw a message on your phone from a girl named Jiang Mo,” Tan Zhen said deliberately, dissatisfied with his perfunctory answer.

“Yeah, so what?” Cui Hao replied indifferently, clearly unbothered. To him, it was a trivial matter.

Women are like the weather—sunny one moment, stormy the next, always unpredictable. Cui Hao’s nonchalance completely appeased Tan Zhen.

At the table, Cui Hao hurriedly ate a few bites before telling Tan Zhen, “I have something to do today. Can you take the kids?”

“Of course.” No matter the request, Tan Zhen always agreed unconditionally.

“Mama’s taking you to school today, so be good, all right?” Cui Hao patted his daughter’s head, grabbed his coat, and got ready to leave.

“Daddy, I love you.” They say daughters are like little cotton jackets, and Duo Duo always expressed her affection so clearly.

Looking at his adorable daughter, Cui Hao paused at the door, came back, and kissed her on the cheek. “Daddy loves you too.”