My Husband's Eyes Have Been Looking Different Lately After Our Marriage of Convenience - Chapter 19

Chapter 19: No Matter How One Endures, the Giant Beast Remains…

The dampness after the rain seeped through the cracks in the walls.

Song Ai’s back shuddered unexpectedly, followed by an involuntary flush. Finally, he spoke in disbelief: “You?? No… where are the other servants?”

Lu Tingyun looked down, replying casually, “Asleep.”

“Weren’t there two just now going to tidy the guest room?”

“They went to sleep after finishing.”

“…”

Song Ai was utterly speechless.

He opened his mouth, hesitating. Seeing Lu Tingyun about to step inside, he instinctively tried to stop him: “Hey, wait—forget it, I’ll just have someone help me apply the medicine tomorrow.”

The man at the door indeed stopped.

But he didn’t leave.

Song Ai kept his head tilted up, his neck stiffening. Because he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he didn’t want to get up; he simply buried his face away from Lu Tingyun’s gaze and waved his hand, intending to say: “Just go back to sleep.”

But before he could speak, Lu Tingyun suddenly asked, “Do you hate me that much?”

How did this turn into a conversation about hate?

Song Ai thought the man was being surprisingly fragile. He muttered vaguely, “Not really.”

Lu Tingyun added, “Then you’re afraid of me.”

Song Ai was so exasperated he laughed. “I’m afraid of you? What is there to be afraid—”

“Then why won’t you let me apply the medicine?”

“…”

Song Ai shut his mouth.

Talking to someone too clever was truly exhausting. If they kept arguing, it would never end.

Giving up entirely, Song Ai buried his head into the pillow and growled muffledly, “Fine! If you love applying it so much, then do it!”

It’s just applying medicine. We’ve already been to bed together, what’s there to fear about some ointment?

Thus, Lu Tingyun entered the bedroom once again, quite rightfully.

Song Ai said he was giving up, but his ears were still working. He heard Lu Tingyun walk to the bedside, unscrew the medicine, and pour the liquid into his palms to rub them together—he sounded quite professional.

His palms… Song Ai remembered Lu Tingyun’s hands: long, well-defined joints, rough fingerprints. When suspended in the air, the veins would bulge with blood, looking powerful.

Wait.

Damn it, why am I thinking about this again?!

Song Ai forcibly cut off the memory. To distract himself, he asked casually, “You know how to do massage?”

Lu Tingyun gave a noncommittal “Mm.” The next second, a scalding palm pressed directly onto Song Ai’s back.

Song Ai jerked nervously at first, his lower back shrinking away and even his buttocks tightening involuntarily. However, realizing it wasn’t as uncomfortable as he imagined, he gradually relaxed.

Mixed with the pungent scent of the medicinal oil and the greasy lubrication, the man’s large, warm palms moved back and forth, pressing into Song Ai’s fair, tender back. The strength was even, the pace measured. To an outsider, it might look like an R-rated scene, but to Song Ai, there was only one word for it:

Comfortable.

So comfortable!

Lu Tingyun’s hands shouldn’t be used for work; he was naturally gifted at massage!

Initially resistant, Song Ai succumbed to enjoyment within two minutes. Although there was a slight sting when the bruises were rubbed, it didn’t hinder the overall pleasure. In fact, it felt even more “intense,” as if every cell in his body was screaming in satisfaction.

His body relaxed completely, going limp on the bed like loose sand. Song Ai didn’t utter another “no,” and Lu Tingyun gradually lost himself in the “scenery” before him.

Though they both had male bodies, Song Ai was thin and didn’t exercise, resulting in a higher body fat percentage. His skin and flesh were soft—if you pinched him, it felt like water could be squeezed out. He was incredibly supple, a massive contrast to his rebellious, stubborn personality.

Despite trying to restrain himself, a surge of boiling blood rose without warning.

Lu Tingyun had been leaning over, but now his legs felt weak; he simply sat on the edge of the bed.

Song Ai let out a few muffled groans as the pressure changed, but he didn’t object.

The oil was soon spread evenly; Lu Tingyun should have stopped long ago. Continuing would only be counterproductive. Only when a faint red appeared on his wife’s spine did Lu Tingyun reluctantly stop, grabbing a few tissues to wipe his hands.

His hands were covered in oil—the smell was pungent, but luckily the liquid was transparent and colorless.

Lu Tingyun wiped slowly, but the young man lying on the bed didn’t react at all, as if he had been rubbed to death.

Silence fell. Aside from their light breathing, there was no sound in the room.

In that momentary lapse of restraint, the erotic images in his mind quickly expanded into an explicit, indescribable memory.

The desire the man had suppressed for days came rushing in like a flood breaking through a dam.

His breathing grew heavy, and his gaze turned hazy.

Lu Tingyun considered himself a man of immense self-control. Perhaps because his father forced him to study from a young age, he never allowed himself to indulge in any time-wasting entertainment. His current habits always served an objective purpose.

Golf was for networking; chess was for developing strategic thinking… Most entertainment in his eyes was a necessity, not an interest. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be interested, but unfortunately, he was as “impotent” in that regard as a man could be.

It wasn’t that nothing interested him, but he constantly demanded restraint of himself, down to the minute.

Thus, most of his life was spent on study and work—utterly boring.

Back to the present.

For the first time in his life, Lu Tingyun felt like a living person—his blood was racing, his heart pounding.

It was laughable, really. This feeling was the same natural reproductive urge that controlled most others, carrying a primal animality and a tawdry label. It was shameful yet inevitable.

He had to admit: he really wanted to sleep with Song Ai right now.

Just like the time a drunk Song Ai had climbed into his bed. Back then, he had a perfect reason and excuse. Even though it was his first time—call it talent or call it a dedicated effort to fulfill his duties as a husband—he had indeed enjoyed himself without reservation that night.

But years of good habits had instilled in him a polite upbringing.

If the other party was unwilling, no matter how strong the internal desire, it had to be suppressed.

No one knew that beneath his still-elegant exterior these past few days, a frenzied giant beast was hidden.

However, when suppression reaches a certain point, it either collapses or explodes.

Just before Song Ai returned, he had almost exploded once. Fortunately, logic defeated the flesh; he held back, avoiding something he would find shameful upon waking.

But no matter the endurance, the beast remained.

Song Ai was lying naked right before his eyes. No matter how strong his endurance, it was now defenseless.

After hesitating for a long time, Lu Tingyun finally spoke in a low voice:

“Song Ai, do you want to… do it with me again?”

“…”

No response.

He waited a moment.

Still, no response.

Lu Tingyun’s brow twitched with a bad premonition. He reached out and lightly patted Song Ai’s shoulder. Still nothing. This meant—Song Ai had fallen asleep.

“…”

For the first time, Lu Tingyun felt that learning things too quickly and being too skilled wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

…

Song Ai stayed in bed at the Lu house for two days without going out.

On the evening of the third day, he finally couldn’t take it anymore. He picked up his phone to gather the group.

The “Three-Person Dog Pack” group chat.

[AAA Building Materials Wholesale Boss Song: M&C day trip, who’s in?]

Group members replied instantly.

[Next Door Lao Wang: 1] [Li Shang Wang Lai: 2]

Li Shang was back from the dead?

Song Ai perked up and typed: [@Li Shang Wang Lai Where have you been these past two days? I called you to hang out last time and you didn’t even reply.]

[Li Shang Wang Lai: Sob sob, Brother Ai, my grandma got sick and was hospitalized. My parents were on a business trip and only got back today.]

Li Shang’s grandmother was a very kind and gentle old lady who took great care of Song Ai. She often invited him over to play and prepared New Year’s money for him every year.

Song Ai liked the old lady quite a bit. He quickly asked: [What happened to Grandma?]

“Li Shang Wang Lai” sent a barrage of messages in one breath.

[Sigh, she’s always loved sweets, right? She was diagnosed with diabetes a while ago. The doctor strictly forbade her from overindulging in sugar, but she couldn’t help herself. She secretly had a cup of milk tea behind our backs, her blood sugar spiked, and she fainted.]

[When I got home, she was lying straight out on the sofa, scared me half to death (horror emoji).]

[Normally my parents are home to watch her and strictly control her sugar intake, and she was fine. But my dad went on a long business trip last week, and my mom got into a car accident yesterday—oh don’t worry, she hit someone else, it wasn’t serious, she’s dealing with the insurance company. And I just happened to be out for dinner, so no one was watching her yesterday.]

[Luckily nothing major happened. She’s on an IV in the hospital now, probably discharged in a couple of days.]

The dense wall of text almost triggered Song Ai’s trypophobia, but that was just Li Shang’s way—rambling on only to conclude that it wasn’t a big deal.

Song Ai rubbed his forehead and replied succinctly: [That’s good then. I’ll go see her in a couple of days.]

“Next Door Lao Wang” immediately chimed in: [+1]

After a moment, another message appeared.

[Li Shang Wang Lai: I heard that street has been undergoing renovations lately. Not sure if M&C is open. Should I call and ask?]

Seeing those words, Song Ai suddenly thought of someone.

L.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through WeChat, quickly finding his chat history with “L.” The latest message was still the notification that the transfer had expired.

Song Ai had seen it before, but he didn’t care. To each their own—maybe the guy just liked helping people for free without reward?

Without thinking much, he sent a casual message: [Friend, is M&C open today?]

At the same time, several kilometers away, standing in front of an elevator, Lu Tingyun’s phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket.

The company had been busy lately promoting new products—product launches, negotiating with distributors, and endless other matters.

He had been irritable these past few days, especially after asking that question. He found it nearly impossible to stop his mind from wandering to those chaotic thoughts whenever he had a spare moment. So, he had buried himself in work, keeping his feet off the ground to eliminate any leisure time.

Having just finished a meeting with advertisers, Lu Tingyun was heading back to his office to handle other affairs when he received a message. He thought it was from his father.

His WeChat was very private; aside from family and relatives, he had no other friends.

However, when he saw the avatar of the message sender, that theory was debunked.

Because he had recently added a new friend.

His wife.

The assistant behind him couldn’t see the boss’s furrowed brows due to the angle and simply asked out of habit, “President Lu, will the video conference be held in your office as usual?”

A cold glint flashed in Lu Tingyun’s eyes. He put his phone away and stepped into the elevator.

“Postpone the meeting.”

“I have business tonight.”