01 The Three-Year Itch

Wen Xueyan lay on her side on the bed, watching her husband Song Tiancheng's back. A cool breeze from the air conditioner blew in, and she instinctively pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself. Song Tiancheng had his back to her, his shoulders rising and falling slightly with his even breathing; he seemed to be asleep.

The black lace camisole nightgown that Wen Xueyan was wearing was a new one she bought last week. After she took a shower and put it on today, Song Tiancheng seemed not to have seen it.

Two minutes earlier, Wen Xueyan had just lain down when her husband, Song Tiancheng, turned off his phone, quickly switched off the lights, and turned his back to her, seemingly falling asleep quickly.

She reached out and gently touched her husband's waist with her fingertips.

That used to be a place she loved to snuggle up to. When they first got married, whenever she put her hand there, Song Tiancheng would turn around, hug her, and pull her into his arms.

But now, her fingers only touched the cold fabric of her pajamas.

"Tiancheng," she whispered, "we've been married for three years, let's have a child."

Song Tiancheng shifted slightly, but he didn't turn around. "I'm too tired from modifying code today, let's do it another day." His voice was clearly weary, even a little impatient.

Wen Xueyan withdrew her hand; this wasn't the first time. For the past year, Song Tiancheng had consistently used various excuses to avoid intimate contact: work was too tiring, project deadlines were approaching, and he needed to think about architectural issues.

At first, she could understand, after all, programmers do face a lot of work pressure, but gradually, this indifference became the norm.

She turned over, her back to her husband, and stared at the wedding photo on the wall.

They were smiling so brightly in the photo, Song Tiancheng's arm around her waist, his eyes full of love. That was three years ago, when they had only known each other for three months through a blind date and had gotten married in a whirlwind romance.

At that time, the newlywed Song Tiancheng would send her messages every day, take her to various newly opened restaurants on weekends, and always eagerly hug her when he got home at night.

Now? Wen Xueyan smiled bitterly to herself. Now they were like two roommates sharing an apartment, with almost no communication except for necessary conversations like "Have you paid the property management fee?" and "What are we having for dinner?"

Song Tiancheng usually eats dinner out before coming home. The first thing he does when he gets home is to turn on his laptop or check his phone, and then he goes straight to bed to sleep.

A thought suddenly popped into her mind: Was he cheating on her?

Wen Xueyan felt a pang of sadness in her chest. How could a normal man go a year without any sexual desire? Besides, they had only been married for three years, not even reaching the legendary seven-year itch.

Is this the three-year itch?

Her mind was racing with all sorts of speculations.

Does he have someone else on the side?

She had her doubts, but every time she tentatively asked, Song Tiancheng would frown and even say that she was overthinking it and that he was just too tired from work.

But if he really had a mistress, why didn't he just file for divorce? What was he after?

Wen Xueyan recalled that in the three years of their marriage, Song Tiancheng had never given her his salary to manage. She had brought it up several times, but he always refused, saying that it was more comfortable for them to manage their own money.

Indeed, Song Tiancheng was responsible for all the major expenses at home, such as the mortgage and utility bills. Even when Wen Xueyan's mother had surgery the year they got married, he paid for the surgery without hesitation.

Song Tiancheng earns over 20,000 yuan a month, while she is just a receptionist, earning a little over 5,000 yuan before tax.

Over the past few years, working as a receptionist, she has honed her standard professional smile to perfection. She seems to have almost forgotten that she was once a top chemical engineering student with dreams in her heart.

Back then, the job of a chemical engineering design engineer required frequent business trips, and overtime was commonplace. After her mother, Wen Xiali, fell ill, she tried to persevere for three months, shuttling between the hospital and the company every day, and even had to decline business trip assignments. She lost more than ten kilograms in the process.

One late night, she dragged her tired body home and found Song Tiancheng still waiting for her. He didn't say anything, but silently heated up a bowl of soup for her. "Why don't you change jobs?" he said, looking at her haggard appearance. "A different position, one without overtime, would allow you to spend more time with your mother."

Song Tiancheng has always been very supportive of her. He never complained about her reduced income after becoming a receptionist; on the contrary, he often said it was a good thing, as it allowed her more time to take care of her family, specifically Wen Xiali. Song Tiancheng's parents have been in good health in recent years, and their pensions are quite high, so they hardly need her to do anything.

But sometimes, when Wen Xueyan passes by the chemical industrial park, she will unconsciously stop and stare blankly at the towering reaction towers.

However, the work issue is not Song Tiancheng's problem.

Later, she gradually got used to the front desk job and had more time to do housework and cook. Song Tiancheng even gained some weight in the first year of their marriage. No matter how late he came home from working overtime, there was always a hot meal waiting for him.

For the past three years, she has spent and saved all her money herself, never worrying about household expenses. Logically, she should be content.

But.

She also has desires.

Wen Xueyan felt a slight warmth rising in her body. She wasn't a wooden person; she also longed for her husband's touch in the dead of night.

But every time she tried to get close this year, Song Tiancheng would avoid her, either saying he was too tired or pretending to be asleep. Over time, she even began to wonder if she had lost her appeal to him.

Does he no longer love me?

She remembered when they first got married, even after they had already made love once, Song Tiancheng would suddenly turn over and hug her in the middle of the night, and would secretly kiss her forehead while she was asleep, and then want her again. He would also deliberately lean in to smell the orange blossom scent in her hair after she had taken a shower, and say with a smile that it smelled so good.

But what about now?

It seems that his favorite things are his computer and mobile phone?

If a man truly loves you, how could he not even want to touch you?

Wen Xueyan didn't want to admit that she had desires, but her body craved touch.

Perhaps he just needed a wife, not a lover. Had his initial excitement worn off? But after all, he provided her with a relatively comfortable life, freeing her from worries about daily necessities and mortgage payments. But was this really the kind of marriage she wanted?

She closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep, but her mind was filled with the gossip she had overheard while working at the company's front desk during the day.

Sister Li from the next department said her husband recently got a promotion and even took time off to take her on a trip to Singapore to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary. Zhang Xin, a newcomer in the finance department, complained that her boyfriend was too clingy; he would make three video calls a day when he was away on business.

Listening to these complaints and boasts, Wen Xueyan felt a mix of emotions. She envied those who felt valued by their lovers, yet also felt a chill run down her spine. How long had it been since she and Song Tiancheng had gone out to eat together? When was the last time they went to the movies? She couldn't even remember.

A dozen minutes later, Wen Xueyan still couldn't fall asleep. She quietly got up and went to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, she scrolled through videos for a while out of boredom. After washing her hands, just as she was about to return to her bedroom, the screen of her phone on the sink suddenly lit up.

A WeChat message popped up. The sender's name instantly snapped Wen Xueyan back to reality: Cheng Boyan, the president of Song Tiancheng's company.

"Are you free tomorrow at noon? I'd like to invite you for coffee; we have something to discuss. You don't need to tell Song Tiancheng."

Wen Xueyan stared at the message, almost thinking she was seeing things.

Cheng Boyan is 37 years old this year. He is a well-known young talent in the city, the founder and president of a technology company, and frequently appears in financial magazines.

She and Cheng Boyan had only met a few times, all at the company's annual meeting.

At Song Tiancheng's company's annual meeting, the boss required employees to bring their family members, and Song Tiancheng would bring his wife every year.

At the annual meeting, crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the banquet hall. Wen Xueyan stood in the buffet area, her fingertips lightly brushing the edge of her plate.

"Ms. Wen, may I add you on WeChat?"

A deep, mellow voice sounded behind her, unhurried yet carrying an undeniable power. Cheng Boyan stood half a step behind her, his slender fingers holding a crystal glass, the amber liquid shimmering gently under the light.

He stood tall and straight like a pine tree, the silver collar pin on his tie gleaming coldly.

"These pearl earrings," he said, his gaze slightly lowered, his voice steady and firm, "perfectly complement your气质 (qi zhi - inherent quality/temperament)."

When Wen Xueyan looked up, she met his deep gaze.

Cheng Boyan's eyes were dignified. He didn't say much, but calmly took a sip of wine, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

Wen Xueyan remembered that Song Tiancheng had said that President Cheng was very strict and rarely praised people.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Cheng." Wen Xueyan heard her own slightly nervous voice.

Cheng Boyan nodded slightly, added her on WeChat, lingered his gaze on her face for a moment, then turned and left without saying anything more. His composed aura, like the words he had just left behind, was brief yet memorable.

At this moment, Wen Xueyan's finger hovered over the phone screen, unsure how to reply. What could Cheng Boyan possibly want from her? If it was about Song Tiancheng's work, why didn't he contact her husband directly? If it was a personal matter, what could it be?

She looked at herself in the mirror. A thirty-year-old woman with no fine lines around her eyes, although her colleagues all said she was well-maintained and looked like she was in her mid-twenties, she felt that time had left its mark.

Especially in the past year or so, her husband's indifference has made her increasingly insecure.

Back in bed, Wen Xueyan tossed and turned.

She recalled her birthday last month, when Song Tiancheng had only hurriedly bought a triangular mille-feuille cake at a convenience store and even sent her "Happy Birthday" message via WeChat.

How should I reply to Cheng Boyan?

The phone vibrated again. Wen Xueyan picked it up and looked at it.

"Is 12:30 PM convenient at Blue Enjoy Coffee on the first floor of the Financial Center Building? We'll discuss the details tomorrow."

Her fingers hesitated on the keyboard. Reason told her she should refuse, or at least find out what it was about.

But deep down, a curious voice was saying: Go ahead, it's just a cup of coffee anyway, and he's the boss of Tiancheng, it wouldn't be good to refuse.

"Okay." She calculated that it wasn't far from her workplace and she could make it there during her lunch break, so she replied. Then she quickly locked the screen and stuffed her phone under her pillow.

Putting down her phone, Wen Xueyan stared blankly at the light and shadow on the ceiling. She recalled the scene from her blind date three years ago.

She was 27 years old at the time, and her family was pressuring her to get married. She met several men, but none of them were suitable. Some men were already 40 years old, but they still thought she was too old and wanted to find someone under 25. That is, until she met Song Tiancheng, who was three years older than her.

That day he was wearing a Uniqlo plaid shirt, and he was a little shy when he spoke, but his eyes lit up when he talked about programming.

They talked for an hour on their first date. As they were leaving, Song Tiancheng suddenly grabbed her hand and said that she was exactly the wife he had imagined.

Back then, Song Tiancheng would order takeout and have it delivered to her company when she worked overtime, pick her up at the subway station early on rainy days, and remember every book and movie she liked.

In the first year of their marriage, Song Tiancheng would take her to try new restaurants almost every weekend. Although his income was relatively high, he would also look for suitable group-buying deals to save money.

When did things start to change? Wen Xueyan tried hard to recall. It was probably after he was promoted to technical director.

Work was getting busier and busier, she was coming home later and later, and they were communicating less and less. At first, she would complain, but later she couldn't even be bothered to complain anymore, because the response she always got was, "You don't understand the pressure I'm under."

Outside the window, a sports car roared past, its engine's blare particularly jarring in the dead of night. Wen Xueyan turned over, this time facing her husband. Song Tiancheng had already turned around at some point. In the dim light reflected from her phone screen, she could see the outline of Song Tiancheng's profile.

He was still as handsome as ever, but even in his sleep, his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were debugging some complex system problem.

She suddenly had an urge to shake him awake, to ask him if he still loved her, to ask him why he had become so indifferent, and to ask him if he knew how lonely she was.

In the end, she just sighed softly, closed her eyes, and forced herself to fall asleep.

She remembered her best friend Ning Zhiyi saying that no matter how intense the love is, it will eventually settle into a state of ordinariness.

She had to go to work tomorrow, and she also had to see Cheng Boyan tomorrow. This thought made her both nervous and strangely expectant. She knew this feeling was dangerous, but at this moment, she just wanted to feel valued, even if it was just an illusion.

At 6:30 in the morning, before the alarm clock even rang, Song Tiancheng was already up. Listening to the sound of water coming from the bathroom, Wen Xueyan recalled how, when they were newly married, she would often hug Song Tiancheng from behind while he was shaving, pressing her face against his warm back. Then Song Tiancheng would turn around, take her wrist, and gently kiss her.

Now, she just lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to finish tidying up before she gets up.

"Good morning," Song Tiancheng said as he stepped out of the bathroom, tying his tie. His eyes were fixed on his phone screen, not on her.

"Good morning." Wen Xueyan sat up. "Are you coming home for dinner tonight...?"

"There's an important product review meeting, and President Cheng will be attending in person. It might be quite late," Song Tiancheng interrupted her, as if he knew what she was going to ask. "You don't need to wait for me to eat."

Wen Xueyan nodded, got out of bed, and headed for the bathroom. As she passed her husband, she smelled his usual aftershave, a fresh scent with a hint of minty coolness. This scent had once captivated her, but now it felt completely foreign.

"Oh, right," Song Tiancheng suddenly stopped, "President Cheng mentioned in yesterday's meeting that there might be adjustments to the technical team structure, which could result in layoffs."

Wen Xueyan's heart skipped a beat. "Will you be affected?"

"Uncertain." Song Tiancheng picked up his briefcase. "Our department's costs are too high, and the investors are putting constant pressure on us. I'm leaving."

The sound of the door closing was particularly jarring in the quiet bedroom. Wen Xueyan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at her porcelain-white face.

Cheng Boyan asked her out to discuss company layoffs? Then why didn't he just contact Song Tiancheng directly? Why did he choose to meet her privately?

She turned on the tap and let the cold water run over her wrists. Today she was wearing a beige knitted dress, then applied some lipstick, but then felt the color was too bright, so she gently blotted some off with a napkin.

Before leaving home in the morning, Wen Xueyan checked her phone again.

Cheng Boyan did not send any more messages.

Dear readers, the previous book is no longer needed; this one has been used instead. Chapter 2 is expected to be updated this afternoon. Thank you for reading.

Welcome all readers, teachers, and darlings to leave comments! Thank you for your support.

It looks great, looking forward to the next update.

I'm really looking forward to it.

For those readers who kept the original edition, please switch to this one.

Chapter 2 is expected to be updated this afternoon.

Looking forward to an update!

Thanks for the comment!

Thanks for the comment!

Mr. Cheng is so handsome!