Xia Yan’s gaze flickered to Jiang Lan, catching the faint trace of a love bite on her neck. She forced a smile, her voice tight with barely suppressed rage. "How else was I supposed to find you?" Lu Jingchi turned to Jiang Lan. "Go on inside. Get to work." Jiang Lan nodded, slipping past Xia Yan and into the cafe. This was where she worked. After searching for a long time, it was the only place that would hire her. Once Jiang Lan was gone, Xia Yan stepped forward and looped her arm through Lu Jingchi's. "Still mad at me?" she cooed, her voice softening into a playful pout. "Let's talk in the car." He didn't push her away as she clung to his arm. But before getting in, Xia Yan pulled a small bottle of disinfectant from her purse and sprayed the passenger seat several times. She looked up, her face blooming into a radiant smile. "Just a little sanitation," she said sweetly. Jiang Lan had just been sitting there, and to Xia Yan, the seat was tainted. Lu Jingchi watched her, his gaze unwavering, and said nothing. His silence was permission. All while Jiang Lan stood just behind them. Watching everything through the cafe window. She saw his indulgence of Xia Yan, his blatant favoritism. The one who is truly loved can get away with anything. Lu Jingchi loved Xia Yan, and so, no matter how outrageous her demands or how absurd her actions, he found a way to justify them. Even when she was humiliating his own wife right in front of him. After her "sanitation," Xia Yan finally slipped into the car. She fluffed her curls, then took Lu Jingchi’s hand. "Alright, why the long face? I won't bring up the divorce again, okay?" Lu Jingchi doted on her, but the moment she mentioned divorcing the mute, he would instantly turn cold. He always said he didn't love that mute woman, that he only felt a sense of duty, a promise to the old man. But it still infuriated Xia Yan. What she wanted was to be his one and only, not some dirty little secret. Everyone said she was the apple of Lu Jingchi's eye, that he'd given her everything except a wedding ring. Only Xia Yan knew the truth. If Lu Jingchi truly loved her enough, he wouldn't let her suffer these slights. And what was a promise anyway? The old man had been dead for three years. Why did he still care about that? You ask who he loved? He didn't love anyone but himself. Lu Jingchi lit a cigarette, leaning back against the seat. He took a long drag, then another, letting the smoke curl and fill the space between them. "Xia Yan," Lu Jingchi began, "I’ve told you before. As long as you’re with me, I’ll make sure you want for nothing. If you never marry, I can support you for the rest of your life. I mean what I say." He turned his head to look at her. "That is my promise to you. But my promise to the old man is just as binding." Before the old man died, he had forced Lu Jingchi to swear he would take care of Jiang Lan for her entire life, even if he didn't love her. And Lu Jingchi had sworn. He had only made two such promises in his entire life. One to the old man, and the other to Xia Yan. *Promises.* Always those damned promises. The word alone was enough to make her want to scream. "Yes, I know you keep your word," Xia Yan said, swallowing her anger, her voice sullen. "But I was with you first." Lu Jingchi took one last drag from the cigarette before flicking the butt out the window. He took her hand in his, his voice softening with that familiar indulgence. "I know I haven't been fair to you. Tell me what you want. Anything." Xia Yan tilted her head, pretending to think. "I'm tired of my Ferrari. I want to switch to a Maserati." A faint smile touched Lu Jingchi's lips. "Done." "And... you're not allowed to go back to that mute for a month." "Fine." Only then did a satisfied smile spread across Xia Yan’s face. "Let's go. Time for work." Jiang Lan watched the car until it disappeared from view before she finally turned away. The cleaning rag in her hand was twisted into a tight knot. She laid it on the table and began to smooth out the creases, one by one, as if she were trying to soothe her own constricted heart. "And you're not even mad?"