Miao Jing briefed Chen Yi on Colombia's climate and customs, quickly acquainting him with the environment he would face amid his sudden disorientation. Chen Yi slightly furrowed his brows, his fingers gently yet firmly massaging the delicate bones of her wrist as he listened lazily. His gaze was as dark and silent as the night sea, occasionally meeting hers with a flicker of hidden sparks.
"What can I do there while you're at work?" He sprawled his long legs, encroaching on her space, and rubbed his rough chin. "Laundry, cooking, chores?"
Hearing this, Miao Jing raised her slender brows, pondered for a few seconds, and decisively concluded: "Of course you can."
Upon deeper reflection, she felt a faint trace of anticipation.
Chen Yi imagined a few scenes himself and found the idea peculiarly amusing. He curled his lips into a smirk: "Well, that might not be so bad."
This brat had grown wings and was now full of schemes aimed at him. She had gone through all sorts of twists and turns to drag him to South America, all while claiming grandly that she loved and protected him, sending him floating on cloud nine for dozens of hours. So what if he relied on her a little? A man living off his partner didn't strain his back—especially with an adonis belt as sturdy as his. He'd serve her, cater to her every need, and treat her like a goddess.
With that thought, Chen Yi felt at ease and energized. He found a comfortable position, pulling Miao Jing into his embrace. "There's nothing I can't do. Let's sleep first. When we get there, I'll see what kind of godforsaken place it is."
They nestled together and slept, waking upon landing at El Dorado International Airport in Bogotá. Though large, the airport wasn't particularly bustling at that hour. Going through customs, they underwent routine checks. The Colombian customs officer, seeing two young East Asian faces, enthusiastically chatted with the beautiful woman, praising Miao Jing for her elegance and youthful charm, asking where she was from and whether she was in Colombia for tourism or work.
It was said that Latin American men were handsome and passionate, flirting experts from age ten to eighty. Chen Yi stood nearby, listening to their endless chatter, his face showing subtle impatience after over forty hours of travel. Miao Jing smiled as she conversed, temporarily ignoring the man beside her. After one question, she glanced quickly at Chen Yi and replied, "He is my family."
"Husband?"
Miao Jing paused, pursing her lips slightly as her cheeks warmed, unsure how to respond. Her tone dragged hesitantly: "Ye..."
Beside her, the East Asian man, itching for a smoke, instantly straightened his shoulders. His bloodshot eyes suddenly brightened, as if reunited with the stars and moon, sparkling brilliantly.
Chapter 44: You Are My Other Half Orange (Part 2)
After clearing customs, Miao Jing went to a Cambio to exchange currency. Chen Yi pressed her about what she had discussed with the customs officer. Miao Jing said it was just routine entry questions and polite conversation. Chen Yi probed indirectly about their declared relationship for entry, and Miao Jing evasively said they were friends. He didn't press further, his dark eyes gleaming as he refrained from exposing her serious facade. Casually carrying the luggage, he followed her out.The Colombian currency has large denominations—ten thousand yuan can be exchanged for several million pesos. Instantly, the two became millionaires. A staff member kindly reminded them to be careful, as public robberies in Bogotá were common. Not long ago, a tourist had their phone and wallet snatched at the airport. Chen Yi’s instincts kicked in, and relying on his imposing height and build, he wrapped a strong arm around Miao Jing’s waist, half-carrying, half-embracing her as they made their way out.
In reality, the airport was nearly empty in the dead of night, making such vigilance unnecessary. Miao Jing stumbled against his shoulder, casting him a teasing, sidelong glance. Chen Yi raised an eyebrow, quirking the corner of his mouth in a similarly meaningful smile.
A driver sent by the company was waiting at the exit, holding a sign with Miao Jing’s name. Her company’s South American business division and manufacturing center were based in Brazil, with a branch in Colombia primarily involved in the BRT electric car project. The local office had about five or six Chinese employees. After connecting with the driver, Miao Jing received several calls—a courtesy greeting from the local general manager, as well as concerned inquiries from Cen Ye and Lu Zhengsi. Hearing this, Chen Yi stiffened, his expression darkening unnaturally.
The driver, a middle-aged Colombian man with chocolate-colored skin named Ramirez, spoke fluent Spanish peppered with broken English. His eyes lit up at the sight of Miao Jing, his enthusiasm overwhelming. Chen Yi, cold-faced, caught a whiff of smoke on Ramirez and mimed smoking and exhaling, finally rescuing Miao Jing from the situation.
The two men leaned against the car, puffing away. South American cigarettes were strong, rough in taste, with a wild kick. Chen Yi, having abstained for who knows how many hours, was caught off guard by the first inhale, coughing violently. The second drag left him with a slight, drunken haze, easing the weariness and tension from his face. They patted each other’s shoulders, gesturing and stumbling through a broken conversation.
They talked about local cigarettes—how much, where from—noting the prevalence of smuggled tobacco from the Caribbean coast, cheap and heavy in flavor, as well as the abundance of cigars. The topic shifted to Chinese cigarettes, and surprisingly, the conversation never faltered.
Miao Jing stole a glance at Chen Yi. Even with his clumsy English, he carried himself with unshakable confidence. Each Chinese-accented word that left his lips carried a strangely rugged charm.
Bogotá’s deep night was a world apart from Tengcheng. At over 2,600 meters in the Andes, the sky felt thin, the air near the equator crisp and cool. The faint darkness, paired with the sprawling glow of streetlights, stretched over chaotic, vibrant low-rise buildings. Inside the car, soft, melodious Spanish music played as Miao Jing leaned into Chen Yi’s arm, both pairs of eyes fixed on the scenery outside.
She could hear the steady, rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat—thump, thump, thump—a reassuring cadence. In this unfamiliar foreign land, the past slowly faded away, replaced by a strange, novel emotion that left them both feeling curiously unmoored.
The company had arranged foreign staff accommodations, renting an entire floor of a five-story apartment building. Miao Jing was assigned one room. Staring at the bare mattress, they exchanged awkward, uncertain glances. In the end, Chen Yi headed to the bathroom to shower, while Miao Jing lay down in her clothes and drifted off to sleep.In the dream, the mattress dipped slightly as a warm embrace enveloped her from behind. Arms tightened, bodies pressed close, his chin nuzzling her hair a few times. They slept entwined like conjoined twins, heartbeats synchronized—a tender, wordless intimacy reminiscent of that summer at eighteen, both awkward and perfectly attuned.
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