"Got nothing to do, so I called Bo Zai and some old friends to chat?"
"We've talked. That bunch... they're practically drooling with envy." He bit down on the cigarette holder, his dark gaze fixed on the dim sky beyond the balcony, his voice faint and distant. "I had Dai Mao sell my car for some cash. The billiards hall is pretty much ruined, and I don't want it anymore. Bo Zai doesn't have any other ambitions—he's only familiar with running a billiards hall. I told him to find another place to set up shop. He found a semi-open spot with a courtyard and became his own boss. The money from selling the car counts as my investment. This line of work won't make you rich, but it's enough to get by. I asked Bo Zai to check on my house every few months. Other than that, there's nothing else to worry about."
Truly, he had no attachments left.
Miao Jing nestled into his chest, gently tracing the faint red scars on his arm. He tightened his embrace around her slender waist, pulling her close and inhaling her delicate fragrance. "Bogotá... the people here aren't wealthy, but they're not lazy either. The roads start getting congested as early as seven in the morning. The people are interesting—optimistic, a bit scatterbrained, and straightforward. You can see that those who commit robberies and murders aren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. But there really aren't many Chinese around. Whenever I step out, a group of women swarm me, asking if I'm a Korean oppa. Damn it, with these big double eyelids of mine, how do I look Korean?"
She smiled. "I've been asked that too. Actually, Korean dramas are quite popular in Colombia. There are some Koreans in Bogotá."
"Guess I'll have to learn a few phrases of Korean. If I ever do anything embarrassing, I'll just say I'm Korean." A mischievous grin spread across his face as he lowered his head to nuzzle her cool, petite nose. The light in his eyes was like falling stars as he pecked her lips. "Finished with work?"
"All done."
"Then how about we do something less boring to pass the time?" His voice was husky as he stubbed out his cigarette. "As a reward for me washing your clothes, cooking for you, and driving you to and from work all day?"
Miao Jing's clear eyes rolled playfully. "It's only 8:30 in the evening."
"That French old man downstairs was bragging to me about how amazing he was back in the day. I told him we Chinese men aren't pushovers either—two hours straight without breaking a sweat."
Miao Jing pinched his lips in mock disgust, then let out a soft gasp as he scooped her up horizontally and strode into the bedroom, tossing her onto the soft bedding. Propping herself up on her elbows, she tilted her head to look at Chen Yi. His tall frame stood by the bed as he undid the buttons of his shirt one by one. All she could see were his thick, dark lashes beneath his brow bone, the sharp line of his nose descending to his tightly pressed lips. With a swift motion, he pulled off his shirt, balled it up, and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Lifting his head, he flashed her a roguish grin, his eyes gleaming with an indescribable recklessness.
Her heart fluttered, and she instinctively shifted further into the bed, only to be dragged back by a large hand gripping her ankle. With a soft whimper, she found herself subdued beneath his dominance.
Around five or six in the morning, faint rustling sounds came from the snow-white bedding before everything settled back into silence. Miao Jing usually dozed off again, while Chen Yi rose refreshed, worked out, and then headed to the shower. With a toothbrush in his mouth, he returned to the bedroom, nudging the little head buried under the covers and urging Miao Jing to wake up.On the dining table sat freshly brewed coffee - Miao Jing's favorite hazelnut milk flavor. Colombian coffee was truly exceptional, and Chen Yi had learned to indulge in this bourgeois taste with her. It wasn't bad at all, and he quickly acquired a liking for it. She relied entirely on a cup of coffee to refresh her mind every morning when she woke up with back soreness and fatigue. Turning around, she saw Chen Yi in a white tank top and athletic pants frying eggs and bacon in the kitchen, every inch of his muscles glowing with vibrant vitality.
"You're going out dressed like that?"
Chen Yi chewed the last bite of Miao Jing's leftover corn tortilla and half a burnt egg, watching as she draped a cream-apricot blazer over her shoulders, loosely tied up her hair, with two pearl earrings gleaming softly. Beneath her flowing long skirt peeked pale, slender ankles as she slowly stepped into her stiletto heels.
"Is there a problem?" Miao Jing tried to pull her high-neck sweater higher for a sense of security, attempting to cover the marks on her neck.
"Can't you change into something uglier and cheaper?" He furrowed his thick brows. "You look expensive and easily robable."
If he remembered correctly, she had bought this very dress in Tengcheng using his card - fifteen thousand yuan.
Miao Jing arched her delicate brows: "Then what should I wear?"
Latina women typically had very curvy figures, with particularly impressive busts, and were skilled at using clothing to accentuate their hotness. This dressing style had become commonplace, but someone like Miao Jing with her loose, simple style - fresh and natural while exuding the elegant gentleness of Eastern women - was actually particularly... eye-catching.
Whether in work environments or when going out leisurely with Chen Yi, men constantly approached her. So much so that every time Chen Yi took her to restaurants, he had to dress intimidatingly and maintain a fierce, impatient scowl to ward off those eager gazes.
Chapter 46: The Tough Guy's Delicate Wife (Part 2)
"Clothes, pants - the inexpensive kind."
Miao Jing contemplated for two seconds before returning to her room to change into a soft, loose colorful sweater, jeans, canvas shoes, and a black-and-white Wayuu woven bag.
Meeting Chen Yi's gaze, she saw him lift his eyelids to stare fixedly at her, his tongue pushing against his cheek as if admitting defeat. He sighed and stood up, his tall frame slightly hunched: "I'll drive you to work!"
They borrowed the Harley motorcycle from their French landlord Pierre - this retired old man was a middle school teacher and a fan of Gabriel García Márquez. After moving to Bogotá, he became an avid outdoor enthusiast. Chen Yi had helped adjust his motorcycle brakes, successfully earning Pierre's trust.
Colombia was also a nation of motorcycle enthusiasts. The morning breeze in the highlands carried a slight chill as the two weaved through congested traffic, Miao Jing sitting behind with her arms wrapped around his waist. When the motorcycle stopped at intersections, his large hand would cover her cold fingertips. Chen Yi asked if she was cold.
"Not cold."
"If you're cold, hold tighter." He guided her hands inside his clothes, pressing them against his warm, firm abs. "I'll block the wind for you."
Surrounding vehicles carried Latina women pressing their voluptuous bodies tightly against their boyfriends' backs, chatting intimately and kissing, their laughter exceptionally clear and free. Miao Jing rested her chin on Chen Yi's shoulder, instinctively holding him tighter. Chen Yi turned his head, fingers rubbing her slightly cool face, and she pressed her lips together in a smile at him.
After the motorcycle dropped her off at her company building, Chen Yi watched as she entered the skyscraper.
OpenNovel