Chapter 72: Secret Envy

Those who clamor for true love are, in reality, calculating. After three decades of power struggles, it all comes down to who steps back first. This serious confrontation made Ou Jinghe laugh with satisfaction—this was no longer an era of male dominance. Zheng Zeyan’s layered yearning, even with its hint of menace, lacked confidence. Though he held the upper hand in status, his deeper love inevitably humbled him.

The medical report came out. Ms. Ou Jinghe, aged thirty-six, had no ovarian cysts and her fallopian tube blockage had been resolved. Aside from liver issues caused by excessive drinking, she was generally healthy. In her younger days, when Gao Yuan traveled frequently for work, they often frequented places of ill repute. She always felt uneasy about the “contagious diseases” section on health forms. Later, without a sex life to worry about, aging brought a sense of impending doom every time she saw her gynecological data. The benefit of VIP medical checkups was their privacy—no judgmental stares from the staff, who understood that post-marriage health checks were a form of self-protection. Plastic surgery clinics and gynecology offices held the most secrets of wealthy housewives.

Recently, she’d been tallying her assets. Compared to ordinary people, her bank account was substantial enough to earn her the title of “Supreme VIP” at any bank—a status she’d long grown accustomed to. Gao Yuan had given her a card with an annual allowance for discretionary spending, as long as she didn’t work. But cash withdrawals were traceable, and she disdained such transparency. Calculating petty sums was meaningless; if divorce came, she intended to claim everything she could.

In the first year of marriage, Gao Yuan suddenly acquired significant cash flow. Together, they purchased villas in Miaolin, Phase III of Bi Hu Tian Di, and Jin Di Bella Vista in Gubei. These investments snowballed over the years. Pre-marriage Gao Yuan hadn’t anticipated his wealth surge or developed investment acumen—it was all thanks to her. Just as her mother-in-law put it—”fortune-bringer.” After deciding against children, Gao Yuan and she co-founded companies, channeling cash flow into investments. They leveraged deals with friends in Macau’s gambling business and once promised her a commercial-residential apartment solely in her name if they had kids—a gesture of shared commitment. If divorce happened, she would demand her share of the appreciated assets. Gao Yuan’s reluctance to divorce stemmed from this; he might go to great lengths to force her into leaving empty-handed. For a wealthy woman caught cheating, divorce equaled losing dignity. Besides… there was the family home bought through demolition compensation, with two million yuan paid by Gao Yuan. She needed to ensure her parents’ house remained secure and that she could live comfortably after divorce.

Meeting with her lawyer at a café, she omitted her past rendezvous facilitated by downloading Lovedate. After reviewing the materials, the lawyer believed the situation favored her and suggested conducting background investigations and company evaluations next. The lawyer, however, was no ordinary figure. After exchanging pleasantries, he glanced around and said gravely, “Ms. Ou, just to be safe, let me confirm—your personal conduct… is impeccable, right?”

A sudden flash of lightning outside perfectly masked Ou Jinghe’s fleeting shadow of unease. “These things aren’t important—and besides, there’s no evidence. Proceed with the litigation based on the materials I’ve provided.”

Thunder roared after her words. The lawyer, familiar with such scenes, smiled. “There’s no wall so tight it won’t leak. I won’t judge you—I’m paid to defend. If you want to win, at least be honest with me. It’ll increase our chances.”

That smile sent a shiver through Ou Jinghe, reminding her of Gao Yuan’s clever metaphor for her—the “parasite of high society.”

An old college friend suddenly invited her to dinner. Ou Jinghe happily agreed and even bought a gift from a maternity boutique. Originally planning to take her friend to a Japanese restaurant, the friend called ahead: “Ou Jinghe, I want to eat at that grilled fish place we used to frequent as students. Let’s meet there!”

The grilled fish shop was run-down, a secret haunt from Ou Jinghe’s past. Her classmate’s sudden frugality irritated her. “Why bother saving a little money? Are you worried about the cost of eating with me? I’m treating.”

Her friend had gained weight since having a child. Her hair, half black and half yellow, looked neglected, tied casually into a ponytail. Upon meeting, Ou Jinghe showed her countless photos, satisfying her rarely updated social media feed. Her friend recounted stories about her daughter, making Ou Jinghe laugh until tears streamed down her face when she described putting a diaper on her head. Her friend playfully slapped her shoulder, exasperated. “Stop laughing! Do you know how disgusting it was?”

“What was she thinking…”

“How would I know?! She even broke my moisturizer. My husband said he’d replace it, but he hasn’t yet. Men say they’ll still cherish you after having a daughter—don’t believe their nonsense. Why don’t you and your husband have kids?”

Ou Jinghe thought for a moment and replied, “He’s too busy.”

“I don’t know whether to advise you. What are you waiting for? Kids are adorable, pure innocence. The whole world revolves around you. But I’m still unhappy. My time is gone. Six wallets pooled together to buy a house, and we’re still paying off the mortgage. Every day, news makes me anxious—there are so many bad people. After having a child, going out feels like walking on eggshells. I can’t even go to train stations anymore.”

“From what you’re saying, being wealthy and idle seems comfortable.”

“I don’t envy you. Honestly, neither of us is living the life we truly want. Your self-expression has no outlet, and I’ve lost myself to worries. But when we meet, I still feel sorry for you. At this age, no one is truly happy.”

“I once thought I’d be a successful career woman. But now, even the sugar-water shop business can’t cover expenses. Thankfully, I own a house.” Ou Jinghe watched her friend wolf down the food. “Do you think I could find a job if I started looking now?”

“You’re Mrs. Gao Yuan, the wife of a film company executive! In your position, what else can you do? Being a full-time housewife is your only role.”

“Is having kids happiness?”

“It brings happiness, but the physical toll and the joy kids bring can’t cancel each other out. The joy is immense, but so is the pain—often doubled. Still, having kids gives you hope. Maybe this life isn’t much, but seeing a smart child, good genes—you think, maybe she’ll be better than me.” Noticing Ou Jinghe’s fondness for children, her friend changed the subject. “Aside from your husband being busy, do you have any other grievances?”

“No.”

“Are things between you two still harmonious?”

“Yes.”

Her friend sipped water and leaned closer. “Let me tell you something. After years of marriage, my husband and I grew distant because we often slept with our child. But recently, during a move, he found an old T-shirt he hadn’t worn in years—it looked exactly like one my ex-boyfriend used to wear. Back then, we’d often spend nights together. Because of that shirt, I’ve had some decent sex lately—thinking about my ex. It’s not really cheating if it’s just in my mind, right?” Seeing Ou Jinghe’s silence, her friend seemed eager to justify herself. “Don’t judge me. I’m just telling you. I haven’t felt心动 in ages—that feeling where you see someone and go blind and deaf, letting your heartbeat shatter your chest. Have you felt it?”

As she spoke, Ou Jinghe suddenly noticed Zheng Zeyan sitting diagonally across in a sofa booth. She froze, while her friend, having revealed her secret, grew panicked. Checking her phone, her friend prepared to leave. “Oh no, it’s eight o’clock. My daughter’s waiting for me to bathe her.”

At the café, Zheng Zeyan’s gaze burned into the man seated nearby. Amid the thunderstorm, he suspected this was a setup. Her hasty departure seemed designed to deceive him. That seemingly smitten woman already had another target. The woman dancing with Faye Wong’s charm, or the one trudging through mud—they were all the same: harlots.

The call from his “first love sister” came just in time. After ignoring a hundred calls and dozens of messages, Zheng Zeyan finally answered, glaring at the man who met his eyes with an amused look. “You want to meet? Fine. I’ll send you the address later.”

The café spanned eight tables from the southeast to the northwest corner. Zheng Zeyan couldn’t hear the distant conversation but felt the man’s politeness bordered on puritanical restraint. Regaining composure, his jealousy subsided. Approaching the table, he found no clues. He belatedly realized Ou Jinghe meeting the man wasn’t purely hedonistic—pleasure didn’t require such openness.

He had been foolish.

When his “first love sister” pressed for the address, Zheng Zeyan didn’t respond. Instead, he followed Ou Jinghe into the mall. For someone without a job, divorce meant losing everything. Yet here she was, an empty shell still spending lavishly. She lingered in luxury stores, her taste predictably poor. Zheng Zeyan hid behind billboards, feeling like an anxious voyeur. Finally approaching, he heard a salesperson praise Ou Jinghe: “Mrs. Gao, your taste is sharp. This dress is a designer piece.”

Ah, Mrs. Gao. Her hand rested on a dress—a woven-pattern gown with chaotic strips of fabric. The designer considered this clever. The concept was as crude as a poorly thought-out gimmick: a person with many abilities, each sprouting a tendril from their body. The overall effect resembled a rental ad plastered on a utility pole—devoid of beauty. Yet placed in a luxury store, it transformed into a treasure. She tried it on, her flawless, Botox-smooth face contrasting with the unnatural stiffness of her smile and the dress. Rich, hollow, ostentatious. Zheng Zeyan understood the designer’s brilliance—every piece in the luxury boutique was a perfect metaphor for wealthy housewives.

After sending the address while seated in the restaurant, Zheng Zeyan debated confronting her multiple times, exposing her fickle rendezvous with malicious glee. But he restrained himself. When he finally looked up, a middle-aged, overweight woman wearing glasses sat beside Ou Jinghe, proudly showing off photos on her phone. Plain-looking and awkward in demeanor, she left Zheng Zeyan enlightened—Ou Jinghe, who loved children, was showering all her warmth on a stranger’s child.

Suddenly, he couldn’t stay dark-hearted.

The “first love sister,” flaunting a golden satin dress, entered the restaurant. Zheng Zeyan quickly lowered his head, dodging Ou Jinghe’s distant call for a waiter, waves of regret crashing over him. Years of smoking had corroded her skin, and her false eyelashes were peeling awkwardly, but it didn’t stop her from laughing loudly. He disliked her so much that even glancing at her felt like a waste of time. Smiling broadly, she said, “Such a nice restaurant? Sichuan cuisine at 500 yuan per person? You kept me waiting for days. Make amends, huh!”

“Enough talk. Eat and go home. I don’t have time for you.”

“Then why did you call me out? Just brushing me off to avoid awkwardness next time? Zheng Zeyan, don’t worry. As long as you call, I’ll come anytime. A room’s ready.”

“Don’t call me again, understand? Or pack up and leave—now.”

Unable to stomach the food, Ou Jinghe stiffened when she saw him. Her friend beside her seemed flustered, rising to leave. What did this mean? Did Ou Jinghe tell her about meeting a hookup, only to be scorned on the spot? And what was that look? If not longing, why did he feel so uneasy?

Amid his inner turmoil, Ou Jinghe suddenly stood up, paid the bill, and walked calmly toward him. More accurately, she first spotted the “first love sister’s” back before shifting her gaze to him, smirking as she pinned her stare on him with every step, torturing him slowly. The black shopping bag with a logo flashed briefly before the “first love sister.” They exchanged hostile glances, and Ou Jinghe breezed past, her heels clicking sharply, exuding superiority.

Those who clamor for true love are, in reality, calculating. After three decades of power struggles, it all comes down to who steps back first. This serious confrontation made Ou Jinghe laugh with satisfaction—this was no longer an era of male dominance. Zheng Zeyan’s layered yearning, even with its hint of menace, lacked confidence. Though he held the upper hand in status, his deeper love inevitably humbled him.