"Miss Jianglai," Xu Ruobing murmured, "I truly want to devour you."

No more hesitation. No more restraint. Last time she’d bottled everything up until her throat went dry and her longing turned to ash.

She’d had Jianglai pinned on the hotel bed—this cool, distant beauty trembling beneath her. Clothes half-undone. Just one step from crossing the line. But Xu Ruobing had pulled back. Crushed her own volcanic need to respect Jianglai’s will.

Now, remembering that night made her grind her molars. *What a pretentious fool I was.*

She’d initiated it all: the bar pickup, the hotel room booking, the whispered proposition for a one-night stand. Jianglai’s blouse had already slipped off one shoulder… yet Xu Ruobing suddenly remembered her *conscience*.

That night, alone in the next room, she’d tossed and turned, sheets tangled around her restless body.

*So what if she’s married?* Xu Ruobing thought bitterly. *Look at her in that bar—miserable. Hollow. What kind of marriage leaves you that broken?*

A reckless idea sparked: *If her husband won’t make her happy… why not shatter that marriage myself?* (Online forums called this NTR—a fantasy where someone steals another’s partner.)

*If he can’t cherish her… let me take his place.*

Her words hung thick in the car’s air, plucking at every heartstring.

The two female officers up front froze. *Did we just hear a top-tier A-lister confess to wanting to be a mistress?* Their hands tightened on the wheel. Speed dropped. Gossip like this could crash entertainment sites.

Xu Ruobing leaned against Jianglai’s shoulder, fingers laced tightly with hers. Jianglai’s lashes—impossibly long—framed eyes fixed on those plump, bouncy lips. Her own heartbeat thundered.

After a shaky breath, she whispered: "Miss Xu… I’m married. I’m not worthy of you."

"Are you happy?" Xu Ruobing lifted Jianglai’s left hand. A pale ring-shaped mark circled her finger. "If you were truly happy… why take off your wedding band?"

Jianglai hesitated. *How do I explain my finger shrank?*

Xu Ruobing pressed on softly: "If it didn’t fit anymore… wouldn’t someone who loves you buy a new one?"

*Look at her,* Xu Ruobing thought. *Skin like frost-kissed snow. Eyebrows like willow leaves. Lips stained with crushed berries. Every gesture radiates mature allure. What kind of man wouldn’t worship this woman?*

She watched Jianglai’s lashes flutter. A slow smile curved Xu Ruobing’s lips as she traced a finger down Jianglai’s smooth cheek. Leaning close, her breath warmed Jianglai’s ear:

"How long has it been since you were truly… cherished? Don’t worry, Miss Jianglai. I’ll give you pleasures you’ve never known. I promise—you’ll be satisfied."

Jianglai’s face burned. *This is immoral!* She’d refused Xu Ruobing before, sparking this misunderstanding. But lies demanded more lies. Before she could explain—

Xu Ruobing’s hand slid to her waist. A foot brushed Jianglai’s ankle.

"*Ah!*" Jianglai gasped, tears pricking her eyes. Pain shot through her.

All heads snapped toward the backseat. Xu Ruobing’s playful nudge had clearly hurt her.

Without hesitation, Xu Ruobing lifted Jianglai’s leg onto her own lap. She rolled up the denim—revealing a swollen, angry-red ankle.

"Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?" Xu Ruobing’s voice cracked, all elegance gone.

Jianglai looked away, ashamed. *It’s nothing. Just a sprain. Rub some Chinese medicated oil on it later…*

"It only started aching now," she mumbled.

Xu Ruobing’s gaze softened. "Your mouth isn’t just for silence. Tell me when you hurt. Hiding pain only breaks you. Sometimes… you must let others carry it."

She saw the quiet suffering in Jianglai’s eyes—*This woman would swallow broken glass before complaining.*

Ignoring Jianglai’s weak protests, Xu Ruobing gently removed her shoe and sock. A delicate foot emerged, smooth as polished alabaster.