Jiang Lan’s eyes were fixed on the wall clock. As the hands struck midnight, she glanced at the dinner on the table, which had long gone cold. She carried the dishes into the kitchen and began to heat them for a second time. At ten to one, the sound of the front door turning drew her gaze. Lu Jingchi was home. His suit jacket was draped over one arm, and his handsome features were flushed with drink as he approached her. Jiang Lan rose to her feet and poured him a bowl of sobering soup. She had barely offered it to him when he swatted it away. Then, he seized her by the jaw and crushed his lips against hers. The reek of alcohol, laced with the scent of another woman’s perfume, assaulted her senses. She pushed against his chest, twice, but he was immovable. Instead, he swept her into his arms and headed straight for the bedroom. He tossed her roughly onto the bed and loomed over her without a single word. Jiang Lan bit her lip, enduring it in silence. She turned her head away, her gaze landing on the potted plant in the corner. There was no affection, only taking. The man forced her face back towards him. His deep-set eyes stared into hers as his fingers traced the curve of her cheek. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Jiang Lan stared right back at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He knew she couldn't speak. She was mute. Yet he never tired of asking. Sometimes, Jiang Lan could never tell if he was humiliating her or simply lamenting the fact. She took the hand on her face and tilted her head, nuzzling his palm like a kitten seeking its master’s affection. It was the only way she could please him during these moments. A storm seemed to gather in the darkness of his pupils. He captured her hand, pinning it above her head as he lowered his mouth to hers once more. … When Jiang Lan opened her eyes again, the sky outside was bright. The space beside her in bed was empty, but she could hear the sound of running water from the bathroom. She picked her clothes up from the floor. As she was fastening the last button, a phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was Lu Jingchi’s. Jiang Lan’s gaze flickered from the blurred silhouette behind the bathroom door to the phone’s screen. Xia Yan: You went back? Xia Yan: You always do this. Do you have to run back to that mute just to spite me? Jiang Lan’s eyelashes fluttered. The bathroom door opened, and Lu Jingchi walked out with a towel wrapped around his waist. Steam was still rising from his skin. His wet hair hung low, the ends dripping onto his chest, the droplets tracing paths down the lines of his abs. Jiang Lan tore her eyes away, looking down to focus on her buttons. Lu Jingchi walked to the bed and picked up his phone, his eyes glancing at her as she dressed. “You saw?” A faint smile touched Jiang Lan’s lips as she shook her head. On their wedding day, he had told her: *You have to be good. Don’t fall in love with me. If we stay just like we were, I’ll take care of you forever.* He told her not to love him. So what if she saw? He didn’t care. He didn’t care if she was jealous, if her heart ached, if she was sad. The one who isn't cared for has no right to be angry. On the contrary, her love and her feelings would only be a burden to him. She was afraid he, too, would trample on her heart. Jiang Lan was afraid… that he would abandon her. `I’ll go make breakfast,` she signed. Dragging her sore body, Jiang Lan got up and walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Lu Jingchi watched her slender back as she left, then looked down at his phone. He deleted the messages from Xia Yan. Jiang Lan finished preparing breakfast and set it on the table, placing a bowl of congee at Lu Jingchi’s spot. A little while later, Lu Jingchi, now fully dressed, came to the table. The room was silent. Lu Jingchi had once told her that talking to her felt like talking to himself. Over time, he had all but stopped speaking to her. For a moment, the only sound at the table was the clinking of spoon against bowl. “We’re going back to the Lu residence later,” Lu Jingchi said suddenly. Jiang Lan’s movement hitched. She rested her spoon on the rim of her bowl. `Alright,` she gestured. Lu Jingchi glanced at her. Her expression was, as always, one of unchanging compliance. Never arguing, never complaining, always temperate. She could endure the greatest grievances and still greet him with a smile. Suddenly, Lu Jingchi found the congee in his bowl utterly tasteless. He tossed his spoon back into the bowl. The clatter wasn't loud, but in the silent dining room, it was jarring.