No matter how much she claimed not to care, a woman who had spent half her life as a virtuous wife and mother couldn't just flip a switch on her primal modesty.
Up close, the age gap hit Zhuang Wenxian like a freight train. Wang Yue was so young—maybe only a year or two older than her own daughter. In any other context, she was old enough to be his mother.
Zhuang Wenxian wasn't into the "shota" thing, but just as older men have a thing for young girls, facing a boy who could be her son left her feeling a bizarre mix of awkwardness and a very specific kind of thrill.
Doing something this taboo for the first time in her straight-laced life triggered a massive surge of "guilty pleasure" adrenaline. The way she looked at Wang Yue started to shift.
Wang Yue had seen that look a thousand times; he didn't let it go to his head. He just kept it chill: "Let's talk for a minute first."
"Okay," she nodded.
