Chapter 47: No Normal Male Physiological Response

Yan Feng snapped back to consciousness in an instant. He rose to his feet, his gaze cold and fixed on Jiang Ciyou. Just moments ago, he’d truly been bewitched, actually wanting to kiss that woman. Now, exposed, his face was left only with embarrassment and awkwardness.

Yan Feng neither denied nor explained himself. He simply turned and left the lounge. As he passed Xia Ling, he said nothing. Whether out of guilt or some other reason, he didn’t even glance at her.

Xia Ling’s heart felt as though it had sunk into a vast, endless sea.

Yan Feng exited the television station, got into his car. His mind was in turmoil, as if a Pandora’s box had been opened deep within, an uncontrollable desire surging forth. He was shocked to find himself feeling such a worldly desire for Jiang Ciyou—something he hadn’t even felt for Xia Ling all these years.

The doctor had said that his old burn injury had damaged something fundamental. That was why his and Xia Ling’s child had come via IVF. To this day, he and Xia Ling had never truly been intimate—a fact that always made him feel indebted to her.

But just now, it was as if a beast within him had begun to awaken. Yan Feng closed his eyes, and Jiang Ciyou’s breathtaking face instantly appeared in his mind. They had been so close just now—close enough for him to see the tiny black mole at the corner of her eye, close enough to catch the pleasant scent of her skin. Her skin was delicate and smooth, like the finest white jade, making him want to hold it in his palm and gently caress it.

As he thought of her, he felt as if a fire burned inside him, his body responding in subtle ways. He was surprised—he hadn’t felt this way in years, though not never. Back when he’d dated Jiang Ciyou, he’d believed himself to be perfectly normal, susceptible to impulse, tossing and turning on sleepless nights. But after being with Xia Ling, he realized he simply couldn’t respond—except, it turned out, when he was with Jiang Ciyou. Only she could provoke a man’s natural reaction in him.

This realization left Yan Feng both dejected and angry. Once he calmed, he also felt a pang of guilt toward Xia Ling.

Yan Feng smoked one cigarette after another in the car.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the lounge was tense, ready to ignite.

“Jiang Ciyou, why are you seducing Yan Feng?” Xia Ling, rarely so forceful in front of Jiang Ciyou, confronted her, jealousy and indignation clear on her face.

Indeed, Yan Feng had been acting strange lately. Xia Ling couldn’t fathom his state of mind. Wasn’t he supposed to be devoted to her? Even after learning the truth about Xia Ling’s plot involving Vivian, he was willing to shoulder the blame for her. Their relationship seemed unchanged, so much so that even Jiang Ciyou had to admit his tolerance was impressive. But just now—had something possessed him?

Jiang Ciyou smoothed her hair with casual indifference. “I was just napping here. How did I seduce him? Xia Ling, perhaps you should keep your man in check, and stop him from bothering me.”

Xia Ling’s expression soured. “Yan Feng stopped loving you long ago. He was just momentarily confused. Don’t imagine you still hold a place in his heart. All these years, he’s only felt hatred for you. Stop hoping for a reconciliation.”

Jiang Ciyou laughed. It was rare to see Xia Ling so desperate. Clearly, she was flustered.

Half-lounging on the sofa, Jiang Ciyou looked relaxed, almost languid. “I always thought your love was unbreakable. Yan Feng once abandoned everything for you—it did shock me. You two were like Romeo and Juliet. But now, it seems Yan Feng is just like any other man, fickle and prone to novelty.”

She cast a sidelong glance at Xia Ling, her eyes twinkling with allure, though her lips curled in sarcasm. “Xia Ling, you have neither name nor status, nothing to anchor you. You rely solely on Yan Feng’s love—but love is fickle, fleeting. How many sleepless nights have you spent, worrying?”

Xia Ling’s face went from pale to purple. When it came to verbal sparring, few could best Jiang Ciyou. Xia Ling seemed barely able to control her emotions.

“I have neither name nor status because of you, Jiang Ciyou. Yan Feng doesn’t love you—why won’t you let go? What will it take for you to divorce Yan Feng?”

At these words, Jiang Ciyou’s expression changed noticeably.

Had Yan Feng never told Xia Ling that they’d never actually registered their marriage? In the past, since Yan Feng’s family didn’t know and he feared complications, he’d kept it secret—understandable. But now that they were openly estranged and separated, why would Xia Ling say such a thing?

A glimmer flashed in Jiang Ciyou’s eyes.

What did Yan Feng really feel? Perhaps he didn’t love Xia Ling as much as he claimed. Otherwise, knowing she was desperate for the title of Mrs. Yan, why would he keep it hidden?

Jiang Ciyou felt a surge of satisfaction. Clearly, there was a rift between them. She didn’t mind making it wider.

A mischievous mood arose within her.

Jiang Ciyou deliberately said, “Divorce? Sure. If you can get him to sign the divorce papers first, I’ll sign as well.”

She rose, gracefully walked over to Xia Ling, and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Let’s see your skills, Xia Ling.”

She knew Xia Ling’s temperament well. Having said this, Xia Ling would surely go and get Yan Feng to sign the divorce agreement. Then she’d discover the truth Yan Feng had hidden for years—that there was no marriage between them at all. All that she had strived for, all the compromises she made, thinking it was out of reach, was actually right before her—only Yan Feng hadn’t given it to her.

At that moment, the rift between them might become as vast as the Mariana Trench. At the very least, it would spark a fierce argument.

Jiang Ciyou found the prospect amusing. Though she wasn’t sure what methods Xia Ling had used to drive a wedge between her and Yan Feng back then, karma had come full circle.

Jiang Ciyou was in excellent spirits today—especially after the broadcast, when she received a call from Bo Jin Xiu. Originally scheduled for a week-long business trip, he’d returned early. Now, his car waited outside the television station.

Jiang Ciyou replied with two words: “Wait for me.” Then, impatiently, she left the building.

After three days apart, she found herself unexpectedly missing him.

It wasn’t long before Jiang Ciyou climbed into Bo Jin Xiu’s Maybach. Yet he wasn’t alone in the car. The secretary, Gao Cen, doubling as driver, sat behind the wheel. Bo Jin Xiu sat in the back seat. Jiang Ciyou hesitated for a moment, then opened the rear door and sat beside Bo Jin Xiu—after all, Gao Cen already knew about their relationship.

Once she was in, the car pulled away from the station.

Along the way, the usually taciturn Gao Cen suddenly spoke up. “Miss Jiang, the president really wore us out this time. What was supposed to be a seven-day trip, he insisted on compressing into three. The whole team worked like machines for nearly seventy-two hours, almost dying young.”

He was clearly complaining, though Jiang Ciyou wasn’t sure why he told her all this.

Still, she asked curiously, “If the schedule was set, why did you push so hard?”

Gao Cen replied with a sigh, “Because the president wanted to be back in time for Miss Jiang’s birthday.”

“Too much chatter,” Bo Jin Xiu suddenly said.

Gao Cen rolled his eyes in silence. These words, the president had told him to say—he’d even made him rehearse twice on the way over.