MPH - Extra 3

Extra 3: Tahiti

T—A—H—I—T—I.

I covered my face with the book, the giant blue splash from the insert page overwhelming me. I closed my eyes, leaned back in the chair to relax, buried my head in the pages, slightly parted my lips, and let out a soft puff of air that vibrated lightly between my teeth, forming a three-syllable word.

I felt a gentle hand tuck a blanket over me.

I moved the book away and saw the flight attendant from China Eastern Airlines smiling at me.

I returned the smile, put the book away, and closed my eyes to focus on sleeping.

An hour earlier, on the ground, I had exchanged my original direct twelve-hour ticket to Auckland for one with a layover in Beijing en route to New York.

During the long flight, I drifted in and out of sleep.

When I stepped out of JFK Airport, New York was blanketed in heavy snow.

I hailed a taxi, and the driver helped load my luggage into the trunk.

By the time I dragged my suitcase into the hotel lobby, my boots were already covered with a thin layer of Manhattan snow.

At the counter, I showed my passport to the beautiful blonde receptionist and told a small lie. Seeing her polite but skeptical expression, I reluctantly pulled out the supplementary card Jiazhuo had given me—the pure white, water-like flowing bank card. I usually carried it but rarely used it. She swiped it through the machine, then glanced up at me, deepening her smile. She stood up and handed the Laotong Bank card back to me with both hands.

Soon, a handsome man in a white uniform came to take my luggage. I noticed his messy brown hair, which reminded me of a young Robert Downey Jr.

Mr. Downey pushed my luggage and courteously led me to the elevator.

We walked into the top floor, down the spacious corridor with warm brown-yellow wooden floors.

We stopped in front of the suite. Mr. Downey winked at me and knocked on the door: “Room service.”

After a moment, Liang Fengnian came to answer the door. I hid behind Mr. Downey and peeked to see him with his shirt sleeves rolled up, holding a pen: “What is it?”

The uniformed staff member politely said: “Sir, there’s someone here to see Mr. Lao.”

Liang Fengnian looked puzzled. This was the most luxurious Sunrise Suite, with the highest security measures. How could a visitor reach here?

Then I heard a familiar voice from the doorway—low, mellow, and slightly weak: “Fengnian?”

I peeked out from behind the uniformed man and softly said: “Hi.”

The next moment, Jiazhuo opened the door and pulled me inside: “Yingying!”

I reached out to hug his waist—he was so warm.

“Good heavens—” He touched my face, his expression full of joy: “New York is so cold. Didn’t I tell you to fly straight to the southern hemisphere? Are you dressed warmly enough? Are you cold?”

I just gazed at him, smiling foolishly.

Jiazhuo coughed softly: “Yingying, let go of me first. Let’s go inside.”

He turned me around, and only then did I notice Liang Fengnian and a group of people sitting in the suite’s living room. Everyone wore amused, knowing smiles.

They were in the middle of a meeting. I gave a slight bow, feeling a bit embarrassed: “Sorry.”

It must have been rare to see the boss so moved. The Westerners in the room were less reserved—one of them clapped the documents in his hand and laughed, giving me a thumbs-up.

Mr. Downey took my luggage into the bedroom. Jiazhuo pulled out a tip from the wallet on the cabinet.

Mr. Downey maintained his meticulous and courteous demeanor, though his face remained cool. As he left, he bowed to Jiazhuo and said in beautifully accented English: “Sir, wish you a happy honeymoon.”

Lao Jiazhuo’s lips twitched slightly. He glanced at me, then nodded modestly.

He settled me in the bedroom, helped me take off my coat, and kissed my cheek: “Rest for a while.”

I nodded: “I won’t disturb you. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

He patted my head, turned around, and closed the door behind him.

I went into the bathroom and thoroughly washed away the fatigue of the long flight.

By the time I came out wrapped in a towel, Jiazhuo was already in the room: “Yingying, are you hungry?”

He waited for me to change, and we went downstairs for dinner, returning hand in hand, filled with sweetness.

Back in the room, Liang Fengnian called. Jiazhuo told me: “Yingying, I’ll change and get ready. I have an interview tonight.”

I went into the walk-in closet to help him change. I picked a fine-striped white shirt, a gray-blue tie, and paired his suit with a dark gray trench coat.

Jiazhuo sat on the sofa, reviewing materials on his laptop for about ten minutes. Then his assistant came to accompany him downstairs.

I returned to the bedroom. His scent lingered on the pillow, and I fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

I slept so soundly that I didn’t even know when he returned. When I woke up, I found myself in his arms.

He smiled: “Miss Jet Lag, are you rested?”

I hurriedly moved my arm off his chest: “How long did I sleep?”

“Not too long,” he kissed me: “We need to leave. Let’s go downstairs for breakfast. The plane has been waiting on the runway for an hour.”

“Ah—” I jumped out of bed in a panic.

His quick reflexes caught me: “It’s fine. We’re not in a rush.”

When we arrived at Terminal 2, the plane was already waiting silently on Runway 4L/22R.

The Mexican captain greeted me on the stairs: “Good day, Miss Jiang.”

I smiled at him: “Hey, Ian, how are you?”

After boarding, the airport staff arranged our luggage and closed the cabin. The plane soon began taxiing down the runway.

Once the plane had smoothly ascended into the clouds, Jiazhuo sat on his favorite sofa and smiled at me: “Hmm, you’re getting more capable.”

I feigned innocence: “What?”

He tapped the table: “You learned to drag your suitcase all by yourself and traveled thousands of miles to surprise me?”

“You don’t like it?” I felt a bit disheartened: “Then I won’t do it next time.”

He just smiled and didn’t speak for a moment.

He was usually so busy with work that it was rare for him to take a vacation. A month earlier, I had seen the vacation he had specially scheduled in his work plan, so I quickly finished three drawings and enthusiastically began planning the trip and packing my luggage. Seeing my excitement, Jiazhuo himself became a little interested. Although he had been very busy these past few years, his workload was still within what his body could handle. If time allowed, he would take two breaks a year. His vacations usually had two conditions: first, he could rest well; second, I would be by his side. This time, he originally had work in New York. I thought it would be too exhausting for him to return to Hong Kong to pick me up, so I said I would fly directly to the southern hemisphere and have him meet me in Auckland.

I had worked hard to figure out how to make the unflappable Mr. Lao Jiazhuo a little happier.

Who knew he wouldn’t appreciate it.

I pouted.

Jiazhuo pulled me close and gently consoled me: “No, I’m very happy.”

His breath brushed against my earlobe: “Hmm, but what did you tell the hotel staff?”

I glared at him: “I was afraid they wouldn’t let me come up to see you, so I said we were newlyweds—”

He laughed: “Hmm, newlyweds. That’s good.”

We played around on the sofa for a while. I drank half a glass of wine and played a game on my tablet. Jiazhuo drank a glass of kiwi juice and handled some official documents online.

In the end, I fell asleep again on the sofa bed.

Before drifting off, I vaguely remembered saying: “Wake me up when we pass Millennium Island.”

A while later, Jiazhuo shook me awake: “Yingying, wake up.”

I opened my eyes groggily and found that Jiazhuo had already carried me to the window. Looking down from the plane’s window, the islands surrounded by green forests were like pearls embedded in the azure sea of the South Pacific.

A breathtaking view.

Even after the plane had passed, leaving only a vast expanse of blue sea in sight, we remained silent for a long time.

I buried my head in his collar: “Jiazhuo, even if we fall now, I’m not afraid.”

He tightened his arms around me: “Stay with me a little longer.”

I looked up anxiously: “Jiazhuo…”

He immediately smiled and reassured me: “We won’t fall. Ian’s piloting skills are excellent.”

The private jet landed at Faa’a International Airport, and we arrived in the capital, Papeete.

It was night when we checked into the hotel. By morning, when I opened the living room door, a vast expanse of blue sea greeted me, its waves shimmering beneath.

The water was so clear, so blue, so sparkling.

I screamed and ran back into the bedroom, kicked off my slippers, and rushed to the wardrobe to hurriedly change into a floral dress.

Jiazhuo came to help me zip up the dress and said helplessly: “Don’t rush. Have breakfast before playing in the water.”

We stayed at an InterContinental Hotel on Moorea Island.

Our suite was an Overwater Villa Motu.

Many years ago, a British fleet accidentally discovered this sparsely populated island in the South Pacific and described it as a fragrant paradise on earth.

I had long coveted this beautiful place and finally managed to lure someone here.

After the intense work of the previous period, once he truly relaxed, he spent almost the first two days sleeping.

In the room, floating on the water, Jiazhuo slept especially deeply.

In the morning, after I had slept enough, I got up and took a walk around the villa area, picking up a few plumeria flowers from the grass. Then I returned and waited patiently for him to wake up so I could kiss him.

When he opened his eyes and saw an enlarged smiling face in front of him, he nearly jumped in fright.

“Yingying?” Jiazhuo propped himself up: “Why are you up so early?”

I quickly stuffed a pillow behind him and helped him sit up in bed.

I grinned: “Waiting to wake the prince with a kiss.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead: “What an honor.”

I draped a coat over him: “Get up quickly. I’m starving and waiting for you to have breakfast.”

We ate breakfast on the waterside terrace.

Time flowed so freely and leisurely.

Jiazhuo packed away his usual suits and ties, wearing comfortable clothes and cloth pants. During the day, like me, he wore slippers on the beach, and in the evening, when the wind picked up, he added a light jacket.

The marine center near the hotel housed many adorable sea creatures.  

Lao Jiazhuo wore a cotton shirt, lazily lounging in a chair under the eaves of the dolphin center, watching me play with the trained dolphins under the guidance of a marine animal trainer.  

I had changed into blue shorts and jumped into the water. The coach, a dark-skinned man with braids tied all over his head, glanced at the scars on my hands, then looked at me again. Noticing his expression, I gave him an apologetic smile.  

I pointed to the scar on my hand and said with a grin: “Fire.”  

The coach genuinely smiled, revealing white teeth: “Cool.”  

The coach summoned a blue male dolphin, its round body smooth and soft to the touch.  

He instructed me to lead it. Standing in the water, I placed my fingers on my temple and then pointed straight up to the sky. The blue dolphin leaped high out of the water in the distance, its graceful figure drawing an arc in the air before splashing down beautifully.  

It proudly swam back to claim its reward from the coach’s hand. Excited, I leaned over to kiss it.  

The coach taught me how to ride on its back and how to listen to their songs. I was so absorbed in the fun that I lost all sense of time.  

“Yingying,” Lao Jiazhuo suddenly called my name from the shore.  

“Move your hand,” he said in Chinese, his tone calm.  

Only then did I realize I had been so carried away that I hadn’t noticed my hand resting on the coach’s muscular chest.  

I awkwardly withdrew my hand: “Alright.”  

I turned to look at him. The once-lazy man had returned to his composed, indifferent demeanor, his attention now focused on the book in his hands.  

Frustrated, I glared and clenched my teeth.  

The coach grinned at me: “He’s true love.”  

---

That evening, we returned to the hotel.  

Jiazhuo had booked me the most famous spa treatment at the hotel.  

While waiting for me to finish soaking and massaging, he had already changed into fresh clothes—jeans and a pink sweater, looking youthful and refreshed.  

Tonight, we were going to dinner, followed by a folk performance in the palm forest.  

We dined on Tahitian traditional food at the restaurant. The most famous dish, coconut milk and lemon-marinated raw fish, was delicious. Across the square, a group of newlyweds was holding a wedding ceremony.  

In the island’s traditional wedding, the bride and groom wore red floral robes and flower crowns.  

A passionate man in a coconut shell skirt invited me to dance, mixing French with English. Unable to refuse such warm hospitality, I danced awkwardly, feeling self-conscious about my poor moves. Jiazhuo sat in the open-air restaurant, smiling as he watched me.  

I laughed and ran back into his arms.  

After dinner, noticing his slightly weary expression, I pulled him back to the hotel.  

That night, I crouched on the living room floor, gazing through the transparent glass beneath my feet at the small fish circling below, drawn by the nighttime lights.  

Jiazhuo emerged from the shower, embracing me and whispering in my ear: “Yingying, when do you plan to marry me again?”  

My shoulders stiffened. After a pause, I replied softly: “We’ve already married once. Do you still want to?”  

Jiazhuo pouted: “I’m troubled by not being able to introduce you as my wife in public.”  

I fell silent. After we reunited, due to concerns about his long-term medication, we had been cautious. But after the doctor declared his fertility healthy, we stopped contraception. Yet, I had never conceived.  

It was hard not to feel regretful.  

Before bed, Jiazhuo kissed my cheek: “Don’t be sad.”  

I whispered: “I just want to be with you. Marriage isn’t important.”  

He sighed softly, holding me without another word.  

---

The next day, while Jiazhuo napped at the hotel, I went to see an exhibition of Gauguin’s paintings.  

I stayed until 4 PM, then rushed back and pulled him out of bed: “Jiazhuo.”  

“I want to get a tattoo,” I said.  

He brushed the hibiscus flower from my hair: “What?”  

“I want to get a tattoo,” I said firmly.  

“Not afraid of pain?” He raised an eyebrow.  

“Not afraid,” I vowed confidently.  

“Hmm,” he hesitated for a moment, then got up to find his slippers: “Alright, let’s go.”  

The local guide took us to a nearby studio. My French wasn’t fluent, so Jiazhuo translated for me.  

The tattoo artist brought out several large books filled with traditional ceremonial and deity patterns.  

I flipped through them repeatedly but couldn’t decide.  

“Yingying,” Jiazhuo called me over: “Come look here.”  

He pointed to a wooden pole in the studio. It was a guardian deity statue, carved with geometric squares, spring motifs, and grain patterns. Though seemingly chaotic, the arrangement exuded an elegant order and harmony.  

I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, quickly sketching the design.  

When the tattoo artist came over, I handed him the paper: “All black.”  

He praised it: “Very beautiful.”  

Jiazhuo picked up my draft and examined it.  

I leaned over and asked: “Would half of it work?”  

I had drawn two crescent arcs forming a circle. If only one half were taken, it would have a rounded head and a slightly narrower tail, creating a perfect arc.  

Jiazhuo asked: “You don’t want a complete pattern?”  

I grinned: “Half seems prettier.”  

He sighed: “Artists and their quirks.”  

He turned to discuss with the tattoo artist.  

There were two beds in the room. Jiazhuo stood guard as I lifted my shirt. He covered my groin with a cloth before allowing the artist to draw the design on my body.  

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him removing his shirt.  

I hurriedly asked: “Jiazhuo, what are you doing?”  

He was unbuttoning the last button of his shirt and glanced at me with a wink: “How about leaving the other half for me?”  

That night, when we returned to the hotel, I stared at his lower back as he emerged from the shower.  

The black pattern revealed at the base of his spine was mysteriously alluring, incredibly sexy.  

I was utterly satisfied.  

Suddenly overcome with desire, I blurted: “Jiazhuo, take off your clothes.”  

He had just put on a T-shirt. Hearing me, he turned his head: “Now?”  

I nodded seriously: “Mm.”  

Obediently, he removed the shirt he had just put on.  

I eyed his back, swallowing hard: “Not enough.”  

He promptly stripped off his pants.  

I gazed at his lean, toned body—long limbs, a slightly slim frame, straight legs—all that remained was a pair of light gray boxer briefs.  

I teased seductively: “Keep going.”  

Jiazhuo pinched my nose, then picked me up and carried me toward the bathroom: “You and your naughty thoughts.”  

The bathtub was filled with water, topped with a thick layer of petals. He gently placed me inside: “Clean yourself first.”  

I wrapped my arms around his waist, lightly rubbing my thighs against him: “Don’t leave.”  

His body quickly ignited with desire. His hands lingered on my back, and I seized the opportunity to press my lips to his neck. Jiazhuo let out a low moan, pulling me into the petal-filled tub.  

We made love in the bathtub, then he carried me to the living room, where we made love again.  

Our bodies, wet with water and scented with flowers, left the living room in disarray.  

Finally, we showered again and changed clothes. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the sofa on the terrace. Jiazhuo held me in his arms as we gazed at the stars scattered across the ocean outside the glass window. In that moment, I truly understood why Tahiti was called the last paradise on earth.  

---

On the plane back, I had a dream.  

In the dream, I was in a bedroom with a rose-satin bed. A woman in a white silk robe sat on a small bed beside it.  

“Hi, Mommy,” I said, standing at the door. I often dreamed of the past, but I wasn’t afraid.  

Mom turned and smiled: “Yingying.”  

“Was I this cute as a child?” I asked, looking at the rosy infant on the bed.  

Mom chuckled: “Exactly the same, my little treasure.”  

I woke up to find Jiazhuo sitting in a chair beside me, holding a cup of coffee, watching me sleep.  

I sat up, hugging a pillow.  

Jiazhuo said: “What were you dreaming about? You kept smiling.”  

I replied: “Mom.”  

Jiazhuo reached over to stroke my hair, saying nothing.  

I sat on the sofa for a while, then suddenly said: “Jiazhuo, when we get back, I’ll see a plastic surgeon about the scars on my hands.”  

He had been about to turn to his documents on the laptop but looked up upon hearing this: “Why the sudden decision to see a doctor?”  

I had always thought the scars on my hands didn’t affect my life, so I hadn’t considered them important. But during this trip to Tahiti, I wore a bikini a few times. Each time someone glanced at the scars with surprise, his eyes dimmed with sadness.  

I didn’t want him to feel hurt or guilty every time he saw them.  

I waved my fists: “Hot, hot, I want to be hot.”  

He kissed me happily: “Think about it. If you still feel the same way when we get home, I’ll call the doctor.”  

In the end, I didn’t become a hot girl.  

I finished two design projects, and after delaying for over a month, I finally decided to consult a doctor. During a routine check-up, the doctor discovered I was six weeks pregnant.  

Jiazhuo was overjoyed, while I was extremely nervous. Fortunately, fate was kind, and our eldest daughter, Hiti, was born smoothly in September of the following year.  

Jiazhuo bought a new house on the hilltop for our daughter. I personally designed the nursery and master bedroom. Citing the need for pregnant women to rest more, Jiazhuo restricted me from designing the rest of the house.  

After Babe was born, we moved to the larger house. For over a year, I spent my days taking care of the baby and managing Jiazhuo’s daily life. When our daughter grew a little older, I accepted an invitation from Ms. Huang Ruping to design the interior of a new kindergarten building at St. Matthias.  

Life became incredibly fulfilling.  

Hiti adored her father from a young age, and Jiazhuo spoiled her endlessly. He specially designed a spacious study with space for a crib. Whenever she begged to stay with him, he’d bring her along while reviewing documents. There was nothing I could do about it.  

As she grew older, she inevitably became mischievous. But whenever she truly misbehaved, Jiazhuo’s sternness would make her hold back tears, turning to me for help: “Mommy, I’m sorry! I won’t tell Tommy there’s a mean cat anymore!”  

Little Ha had painted the neighbor’s cat orange.  

When Hiti turned two, following Jiazhuo’s wishes, we held a simple, intimate wedding banquet in our garden.  

All the mischief of our youth had finally borne fruit.

[My Private Husband - FIN.]