Having traveled the world, Miao Jing had encountered countless men—witty, handsome, learned, wealthy, and far more charismatic.
Leaving the small town of Tengcheng and the youthful, eccentric aura of Chen Yi behind, he had long faded into obscurity.
Chen Yi refused to acknowledge his own insecurity—but he pounded the cutting board loudly while cooking, absentmindedly scooped water into the wok, and served a dish of murky, overcooked food on the dining table, tossing a pair of chopsticks to Miao Jing.
He made an excuse to go out, claiming he needed to buy something. Miao Jing watched his lazy figure, his slender fingers resting on his neck, as he sauntered out of the house.
Staring at the unidentifiable dish on the table, she blinked calmly, picked up her chopsticks, and ate. After finishing, she opened the refrigerator, found some ingredients, and cooked a proper meal, leaving it on the table for Chen Yi to eat when he returned. Then she returned to her room to work.
Work was undeniably demanding. She was temporarily assigned here, and the project was intense. On top of that, there were language and cultural differences in the office, and the time zone gap with China meant she could only communicate with her domestic colleagues during non-working hours, early in the morning or late at night. Even weekends were scheduled. The only time she could catch her breath was by his side. Perhaps next month, when things eased up, they could take a beach vacation together. Since arriving in Bogotá, they had been busy settling in, learning the language, and adjusting to their new lives, with no real chance to relax.
Chen Yi sat gloomily in the park outside, smoking two cigarettes. He bought some groceries from a fruit and vegetable stall and returned home. When he entered the kitchen, he saw the dish he had just cooked dumped in the trash. His relaxed posture stiffened again. His tobacco-stained fingers unconsciously brushed his lips, and realizing he wasn’t holding a cigarette, he shoved his hands into his pockets. With downcast eyes, he nudged the trash bin further under the counter.
Miao Jing was at her desk with her laptop open, completely unaware of his return. She was on the phone, chatting in a mix of Spanish and English, her laughter light and her tone gentle. Chen Yi could understand about a third of it—something about meeting up and visiting.
He gently closed the bedroom door and settled in the living room to watch a movie, lazily stretching his long legs and propping his hands behind his head. His expression was dark and vacant. Eventually, he pulled out a cigarette and began smoking.
Since coming to Bogotá, Chen Yi hadn’t been smoking as heavily. The change in environment and his more relaxed mental state had lessened his addiction. Besides, Miao Jing often glanced at him disapprovingly when he smoked, and he understood. If he really developed some illness from it, he was with her now—he had to think not just of himself, but of her too.
That night, as they lay together, his hands brushed against her smooth, fragrant skin, stirring restless desires within him. His strong arms pulled her slender waist closer. Miao Jing turned into his embrace, her hands pressed against his chest as if to push him away. "Let’s sleep," she said.
"After we’re done," he insisted, his voice husky as he breathed warmth along her neck. "I can’t sleep."
"I’m tired today…"
"Just lie still," he murmured, his lips trailing downward.
"No." Miao Jing pressed his restless hands away, curling up with a sigh. "Can’t you let me rest for a couple of days…"
His lips, neither thin nor pale, bore deep hues and firm lines that exuded desire. The corners of his mouth turned down, tightening slightly, as if displeased.His jawline was taut and stern, his brow rigid yet tinged with grievance. As his fluffy head slid down in a sulk, Miao Jing’s hand, which had been pushing him away, wavered mid-air before her whole body trembled slightly. Finally, her fingers tenderly threaded through his thick hair.
His moist lips returned to her delicate, flushed cheeks, leaving Miao Jing dazed and languid as she yawned. Every limb felt lazily suspended as if drifting among clouds. Muttering a few words, she turned over, settled into a comfortable position, and slowly closed her eyes, already slipping into slumber.
…
She fell asleep right after her own pleasure?!
Chen Yi gritted his teeth in frustration, reaching out to snap off the bedside lamp with a "smack." He stared blankly at the pale bed curtains in the darkness.
Miao Jing enjoyed a few days of smooth rest—no matter how much Chen Yi wanted to "prove himself," she would clutch a book, studying it intently, and press a hand against his handsome face as he leaned in, pushing him away nonchalantly. "My period’s here," she stated lightly.
"Wasn’t it supposed to be at the end of the month?" The man’s brow furrowed deeply.
"It came early." The corners of her rosy lips curled upward, unable to conceal her delight. "A week’s rest."
His large hand rubbed her soft abdomen a couple of times before he slumped onto the bed, listless and disinterested.
Miao Jing stroked his prickly hair. "Want to read with me?"
"Where’d you get the book? And it’s in Spanish." Chen Yi glanced down. "When have I ever read books?"
"I went to a bookstore with friends from language school. We visited a lovely one near Bolívar Square. They even had a small literary theater performance, and the coffee was great. Maybe we can go together next time."
"When did you go to the bookstore? How come I didn’t know?" Chen Yi’s frown deepened. "With that Swedish guy named Mike?"
"And Marilyn," she added casually. "If Gino hadn’t let it slip, I wouldn’t have known you’ve been playing at the billiards hall lately."
"You should find a better place to play… I know a distributor who lives at the foot of Moe Mountain. He has a villa estate and a members-only club with a snooker table. Maybe I can take you to see it?"
Miao Jing didn’t oppose Chen Yi playing billiards; she just didn’t want him gambling for money or getting involved in the chaotic slums where foreigners could easily run into trouble.
Chen Yi closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, and remained silent.
She gently poked his forehead with her fingertip.
"My hands were itching, and it’s not that fun anyway. I won’t play anymore," he replied flatly, turning his back to her.
The week passed quietly, and soon after, Miao Jing received notice for a business trip to Medellín. Chen Yi asked if he should accompany her, given Medellín’s notorious past as a drug cartel city, where safety was even more concerning than in Bogotá. Miao Jing shook her head, saying it wasn’t necessary. Their landlord, Pierre, was heading to the countryside for a week-long vacation and had invited Chen Yi along. They could ride motorcycles, fish, and go boating together. Besides, she was traveling with colleagues and there was no need to worry.
Before leaving, Miao Jing left a sum of money by Chen Yi’s bedside—about three million pesos—so he could enjoy himself.
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