Love for You

Chapter 45: The Tough Guy's Delicate Wife (Part 1)

Bogotá lies near the equator, precisely at four degrees north latitude. Due to its highland location, the climate shifts from hot to mild, with only dry and rainy seasons. The rainy season lasts from May to November, often featuring bright sunny mornings followed by sudden afternoon downpours. Sunshine, rain, blue skies, white clouds, and rainbows are extremely common here, while cool, spicy outfits and down jackets frequently appear within the same line of sight.

Miao Jing hadn’t brought too much luggage from home. Following some unknown overseas travel guide, she packed plenty of common medicines, power adapters, and mini appliances, along with daily necessities and clothing. Finally, rummaging through Chen Yi’s closet, she only picked out a few crisp semi-formal outfits for him.

After arriving in Bogotá, Chen Yi observed the street crowds and promptly went to buy some less touristy clothing. The attire of local ordinary people wasn’t much different from that in China, except for more rustic yet trendy colors and styles. Young people also chased after fashionable brands, often with surprisingly fresh styling. Of course, the wealthy class dressed meticulously, with modern and formal attire, paying close attention to etiquette and occasion.

However, when Miao Jing saw the tight tank tops, floral shirts, flight jackets, and tropical combat boots he brought back... she subtly twitched the corner of her lips.

Life wasn’t the Latin-inspired chaos of 20th-century American movies filled with drug lords and gang wars.

But Miao Jing didn’t say a word. She simply lowered her head and silently sipped the local specialty coffee, savoring its rich aroma while simultaneously reminiscing about the handsome men unique to Latin America. Colombia’s ethnic mix was a veritable melting pot—every skin tone could be found on the streets. From pale, melancholic Nordic backpackers with deep-set features, to Hispanic youths with eyes as blue as the deep sea, to Indo-European mixes with bold eyebrows, intense eyes, and passionate physiques, and warmly smiling local natives—handsome, sensual, rugged, charming, and passionately fiery... it was like a rapidly shifting parade of strikingly diverse male beauty.

Miao Jing leisurely watched Chen Yi put on the floral shirt. His tall, straight frame was concealed beneath the fabric, with two buttons undone at the collar revealing honey-toned chest skin and powerfully muscular arms. His slender legs and firm, narrow hips were wrapped in ripped jeans. Then she saw him sling the leather jacket over his shoulder, casually light a cigarette, and head out to buy groceries.

Fine. Asian handsome face, Cuban-style shirt, African jeans, U.S. military combat boots, Marlboro cigarettes. Very mixed, very unrestrained, very unapproachable. Very Latin style.

Their residence was in Bogotá’s affluent district, where every apartment building had security guards. The street safety was relatively good. Bogotá experienced major traffic jams on weekday mornings. Miao Jing carpooled with colleagues via Uber to work. She usually worked overtime in the evenings, and Chen Yi would pick her up. During the day, he played the unemployed wanderer, enthusiastically blending into Bogotá’s streets.

The two had a modest savings, but Miao Jing managed all the finances. They didn’t keep much cash at home, withdrawing money as needed. Besides rental expenses, she gave Chen Yi a monthly allowance for living expenses—the feeling was actually quite amusing, reminiscent of high school days when he’d casually pull a few crumpled hundred-yuan bills from his pocket for her allowance. Now, Miao Jing held a stack of high-denomination pesos, watching Chen Yi rub the tip of his nose with a peculiar expression before stuffing the money into his wallet.

"How much are you giving me each month?""One and a half million pesos for living expenses, and another five hundred thousand for you and Ramirez to have drinks."

Two million!!

Chen Yi still felt a slight twinge inside—but it was nothing, really just over three thousand yuan. Back in Tengcheng, he'd easily spend that much in a single day on food, drinks, and entertainment.

"If it's not enough, just ask me for more." A soft, beautiful smile played on her lips.

He lifted his chiseled chin and let out a deliberately disdainful snort: "It's enough."

Chen Yi happily embraced his new life. Their household chores were actually quite simple—laundry and cleaning were minor tasks that could be done haphazardly. The real challenge was cooking. When had he ever cooked back in China? At most, he could boil noodles. Moreover, preparing Chinese cuisine here wasn't easy; even finding a rice cooker was difficult. Various seasonings and ingredients had to be collected gradually. Fortunately, Colombia had plenty of delicious food—coffee and juice were exceptional delicacies. Street restaurants commonly served Ajiaco (chicken and corn soup) and Sancocho (stewed chicken), along with various grilled meats, fried dumplings, and trout rice, all quite suited to Chinese tastes. For the first two months after arriving, Chen Yi consistently took Miao Jing out to eat.

Neither of them were picky eaters. In their teenage years, as long as there was food to fill their stomachs, they could adapt to anything. On their way home from work, Chen Yi would carry Miao Jing's briefcase and guide her past street food stalls, buying a portion of Lechona—a traditional Colombian dish of whole roasted suckling pig stuffed with potatoes, onions, rice, and spices, roasted until crispy and fragrant. Back home, Chen Yi would slice some avocado for a salad and heat up canned tomato soup, making a hearty meal to satisfy Miao Jing.

She wrinkled her nose and gracefully sat at the dining table, waiting for the cook to bring the bowls and utensils: "Is this what we're having tonight?"

"Don't like it?" Chen Yi served the food casually. "There's still some Colombian-style meat-stuffed bread in the fridge. Want me to thaw it for you?"

Miao Jing held her utensils and shrugged indifferently, her thin, soft earlobe being pinched and rubbed between calloused fingertips.

"Whatever I make, you eat. Back then, I never complained once about all those bowls of plain boiled noodles you made." The man stood beside her with his hands on his hips, his imposing presence undeniable, watching her intently. "Eat!!"

"Oh—" she drew out the syllable.

Being new to the place and wary of safety at night, they usually stayed in. After dinner, Miao Jing would work overtime, coordinating projects online with colleagues back in China. Chen Yi would clean up, washing dishes in the kitchen. After finishing, he'd go sit on the balcony, lounging in a recliner with his long legs crossed, slowly smoking a cigarette while enjoying the night view of Bogotá.

"Bored?"

Miao Jing finished her work and brought over a can of beer, placing it beside his hand. Chen Yi looked up at her through the faint blue smoke, casually pulling her into his lap. His tone was lazy: "Bored of what?"

"Aren't you bored?"

The old Chen Yi was never home, always followed by a gang of underlings, able to blend in anywhere from heaven to earth—when had he ever known loneliness? Now, he had followed her thousands of miles to South America, where he didn't speak the language, had no career, no friends, and no entertainment.