The game was getting interesting. I sipped the medicine, then spat it out—it was bitter.
Hugh Pei appeared, changing shoes at the door. He frowned at my spitting. "Can't drink it? Don't."
"Mind your own business." I wiped my mouth. "Why back again?"
He loosened his tie—rough, but hot.
"Our house. Problem?" He sat across from me, expressionless.
"Nope." I tried the medicine again.
Still too bitter—spat it out, some splashing his face, shirt.
His face darkened, eyes sharp.
I couldn't speak—saw a drop on his long lashes. I handed him a tissue—last courtesy.
He swatted my hand away. His disgust stung, old pain flaring.
"Sorry—it's too bitter." I kept calm, dropping the tissue.
Hugh Pei went upstairs to change.
Auntie Liu cleaned up—quicker, more careful than the others.
"Auntie Liu, cook dinner," I said, tired.
She nodded, heading to the kitchen.
I pinched my nose, chugged the rest. Been skinny for too long—needed herbs to fix my gut and put on some weight.
Afterward, I went upstairs to the music room, uncovering my cello—gathering dust.
I played, low, elegant notes filling the room, lost in memories—until Hugh Pei opened the door.
"Annoying." He scowled.
I'd almost stopped, but his words irked me. In past lives, he'd said my cello was noisy—I'd put it away.
Ginny was right—I was stupid.
I dragged the bow wildly, making a racket. His perfect brows furrowed.
"Then divorce! Live separately—I'll play suona, won't bother you." I set down the bow, voice soft.
"Divorce isn't needed for separation." Hugh Pei mocked.
"Then why return?" I was confused. What kept him here?
Me? Unlikely.
He seemed unaccustomed to my sharp tongue—face sour. By rights, he'd storm out, find some lover's bed.
But he held back, asking, "Zoe Xu—you hate me coming back? Found someone new?"
Was he checking for infidelity? Spying?
I gaped. "So what? You said no posting."
"Fucking dare to cheat on me?!" Hugh Pei snarled.
"Equality—why can't I do what you do?!"
Auntie Liu's voice cut in. "Mr. Pei, ma'am—dinner's ready."
I pushed past Hugh Pei, heading downstairs. No more self-torment over him.
Auntie Liu's cooking was great—three dishes, one soup. I ate two bowls. Out of the corner of my eye, Hugh Pei left.
"Delicious, Auntie Liu. Your husband, kids—so lucky," I said, finishing my soup.
She smiled shyly. "My daughter loves my cooking—says I should open a restaurant. Silly girl, too naive."
My smile faded. "Not naive. Luck—dreams come true easily sometimes."
In past lives, on my deathbed, Mom said his future mother-in-law's restaurant opened—he'd gone to cut the ribbon, too busy for me.
He'd funded it—top three in City A, grand opening.
"We're just common folk, ma'am—no luck," Auntie Liu said, deferential.
"Luck finds you—can't stop it. What if your daughter marries well?" I wanted to tell her—no need for humility. Their rise was two weeks away.
But I held back. She smiled awkwardly—I left the table.
After bathing, I lay in bed, scrolling. News of Hugh Pei at a bar—Lucas Lu, some women.
He was tabloid gold—even eating noodles made headlines.
As his wife, I dominated comment sections.
"His wife's a saint—patience of a goddess!"
"If he were my husband, I'd serve his mistress myself."
"Stop simping—you'd rage. Let me take one for the team!"
"No morals—Pei's gossip list is endless. No male virtue."
"Paparazzi suck—never get the juicy shots."
Sympathy, envy, mockery—I laughed it off.
Just as I was drifting off, Ella Li called, panicked.
"Zoe—hurry! Emergency!"