Volume One Chapter One The Man Sets a Trap with Tea

On the night of Song Wanxi’s twenty-sixth birthday, there was no surprise—only shock.

Surrounded by a few close friends, she pushed open the door to the private room at the club. Inside, the lighting was dim and the music seductive, stirring the air. Several scantily clad hostesses swayed provocatively, their dance a haze of sensuality and lust. It was a scene of debauchery, a tableau of indulgence and excess.

“Sorry, we’ve entered the wrong room.” Liao Xue nodded apologetically to those inside, holding Song Wanxi’s arm. “Wanxi, our room is next door.”

Song Wanxi shook off Liao Xue’s hand and calmly fixed her gaze on You Jin, who sat on the sofa. Her heart ached, her fingertips tingled. Two years of marriage—she knew his reputation for scandal, knew he played around. Yet seeing it with her own eyes brought a heartbreak she could not suppress.

You Jin saw her too, but his expression was eerily composed, untouched by any ripple of emotion. His face remained unchanged.

“Sister-in-law!” Wu Weiwei stood up from beside You Jin, rushing to explain. “Don’t misunderstand, we were just fooling around.”

“Sister-in-law, it’s not what you think.” The two men nearby also stood, visibly anxious.

Aside from Wu Weiwei, Song Wanxi didn’t know You Jin’s friends. He never brought her into his circle.

Wu Weiwei waved at the dancing hostesses, “Stop dancing, turn off the music, everyone out.”

The hostesses hurried to comply, switching off the music, gathering their scattered clothes, covering their exposed bodies as they walked out. As they passed Song Wanxi, the heavy scent of perfume made her nauseated.

Her friends stared at the departing hostesses, dumbfounded.

You Jin withdrew his gaze, picked up a glass of strong liquor from the table, and drank it indifferently in one gulp—ignoring her existence.

Wu Weiwei frowned, her tone resentful as she questioned, “Sister-in-law, we were just watching a show. With me here, none of them would dare take a hostess to a hotel. Surely you won’t be angry with Jin over such a minor thing?”

At her words, Song Wanxi looked at Wu Weiwei—a woman of some beauty, childhood friend of You Jin, addressing him as a brother. Song Wanxi had not uttered a word; what anger could there be? This woman, though, was adept at playing her part.

“Sorry to have disturbed you,” Song Wanxi said gently, unwilling to make a scene. She turned and left.

Her friends followed her down the corridor, bristling with indignation.

“You Jin is too much. I never thought he was that kind of person. It’s an eye-opener.”

“A man like that—why not divorce him, what’s the point of keeping him for the holiday?”

“Wanxi, you can’t indulge him anymore. Scandals with actresses are bad enough, but to mess around with hostesses on your birthday? Disgusting.”

Song Wanxi paid no heed to their words.

Liao Xue hurried forward, grabbing her hand. “Wanxi, our room is ahead, where are you going?”

Song Wanxi stopped, looked at Liao Xue. “Let’s delete each other. Don’t contact me again.”

The others were stunned.

Liao Xue was shocked, her eyes wide as saucers. “Song Wanxi, are you out of your mind? Your husband fools around, what does that have to do with me? We’ve been friends for years. You’ll break off with me over a scumbag?”

She insisted on arranging the birthday party and dragged Wanxi to the last place she wanted to be—how could it have nothing to do with her?

Song Wanxi was heartbroken, using all her strength to suppress her anger, her tone as calm as water. “What did Wu Weiwei offer you?”

Liao Xue faltered, her gaze flickering. “I…”

Song Wanxi gave her no chance to explain. “I’ve been married to You Jin for two years. I know what kind of man he is. I’m not stupid. I don’t need you and Wu Weiwei setting traps to push us toward divorce.”

Liao Xue, guilt-ridden, reached out to her. “Wanxi, I’m sorry.”

Song Wanxi avoided her touch. “This is the end between us.”

She wanted nothing more to do with a toxic friend who could betray her for profit.

Song Wanxi walked away, heavy-hearted, leaving that nauseating place behind.

Liao Xue was surrounded by the others—questions, accusations.

“Today’s Wanxi’s birthday, what are you playing at?”

“Did you really take favors from that woman?”

“Liao Xue, is this the surprise you arranged for Wanxi?”

—

Inside the scented private room, the silence was heavy.

A pressure hung in the air, so dense that no one dared speak.

You Jin drank several shots of strong liquor, reclining lazily against the sofa, eyes sharp and impatient, tugging at his tie. He found the blindfold still hanging around his neck—the one that had covered his eyes earlier. Annoyed, he yanked it off, threw it forcefully onto the table, stripped off his jacket and tie, then slowly began unbuttoning his white shirt.

Wu Weiwei crossed her arms over her chest, angrily leaning back beside You Jin. “Are all women so petty? It was just a show. She got angry? I really don’t like hanging out with women—no fun at all.”

Xu Chang filled You Jin’s empty glass, “Drink up. Don’t kill the mood.”

You Jin leaned over, picked up the glass, and drained it in one go.

With the liquor burning his throat, he asked indifferently, “Whose setup was this?”

Everyone paused.

“We didn’t set anything up,” Wu Weiwei said, flustered. “It was just a coincidence.”

You Jin sneered, coldly raising his eyes to Wu Weiwei, pointing at the door Song Wanxi had left through. “Who is she?”

Wu Weiwei’s nervous gaze darted to the others, pleading for help.

You Jin repeated, his voice sharp, “I asked you—who is she?”

Wu Weiwei answered timidly, “Song Wanxi.”

You Jin’s laugh was mocking and cold.

Yes—she was Song Wanxi.

—

Everyone present knew what that name represented.

She was traditional, reserved, aloof, and introverted—a highly educated woman who spent her days either in the lab researching pharmaceuticals or at home reading. Song Wanxi was the kind of woman who dared not even wear a short skirt; how could she possibly appear in a place like this?

You Jin bent forward, elbows on his knees, head down, his voice growing cold. “Making things this filthy—do you find it amusing?”

Xu Chang, seeing Wu Weiwei’s panic, gallantly took the blame. “Jin, I called the hostesses for the dance, and I had connections bring your wife here. I just wanted to help you.”

You Jin looked up, his icy gaze making Xu Chang’s skin crawl.

Xu Chang swallowed nervously, his back stiff.

—

Song Wanxi couldn’t sleep.

Late at night, unable to rest, she poured a glass of milk from the fridge, warmed it, and sat in the living room sipping it.

A gentle night breeze drifted in, stirring the sheer curtains, city lights brighter than the darkness.

Silence.

She held the warm milk in her hands, took a slow sip, her heart unable to settle.

A faint click sounded.

Song Wanxi turned toward the front door.

It opened. You Jin entered, changing into slippers at the entryway.

He looked at the bright living room, surprised, his gaze landing on Song Wanxi.

She usually slept early—tonight was an exception.

She glanced at him, then finished her milk in a few gulps, went into the kitchen to wash the glass, turned off the lights, and came out.

You Jin sprawled across the sofa, his posture bold, head resting against the back, eyes closed, unmoving—whether from drunkenness or fatigue, she could not tell.

Song Wanxi passed him quietly.

“Were you waiting for me?” His cold, low voice reached her.

Song Wanxi paused, her back to him, chest tight with discomfort.

She exhaled softly. “No.”

“Seeing your husband fool around outside—don’t you have anything to say?”

His words pierced her heart like a needle.

Painful? She could endure it.

Not painful? The feeling was truly unbearable.

Song Wanxi was silent for several seconds, then answered graciously, “Take care of your hygiene. Protect yourself.”