Chapter 32: Someone Is Willing To Wash Hands And Cook Soup For You
“Mingsheng, when are you coming back?”
Qin Mo’s voice was gentle, but the noise on the other end of the call left her somewhat at a loss.
Was Zhang Mingsheng out socializing?
“Hello?”
The chaotic music and boisterous voices mixed together, forcing Qin Mo to repeat her question.
Zhang Mingsheng barely made it out. “Ah—I got it, I’ll be back soon.”
“Then you…”
Qin Mo hurriedly tried to ask him something, but all the commotion on his end suddenly cut off.
Zhang Mingsheng didn’t even wait for his wife to finish speaking before hastily hanging up the phone.
“…”
The noise in her ear vanished, replaced by an overwhelming silence.
Qin Mo still held the phone to her ear, her body gradually stiffening.
In front of her was a table full of delicious food.
It was something Qin Mo had prepared after leaving work early, shopping at the supermarket, and carefully cooking dish by dish at home.
But the table full of dishes had gone from steaming hot to lukewarm.
It was already 8:30 p.m. Zhang Mingsheng, who was supposed to be home by 6:00, or 6:30 at the latest, had just hung up on his wife without a care.
He didn’t know that his wife had prepared a full spread of dishes and had been waiting for him for nearly three hours.
And Qin Mo didn’t know that her husband, Zhang Mingsheng, was at that moment in a nightclub, surrounded by women, loudly boasting, “My wife is frigid.”
“Hey, brothers, have you ever seen that? Frigid, she doesn’t get wet no matter how you touch her, can’t even get it in!”
“Brother Zhang, maybe it’s your skill that isn't good enough?”
The men burst into vulgar laughter, and someone egged him on: “Brother Zhang’s wife is a real beauty!”
“Wow, then isn’t Brother Zhang missing out big time?”
Amid a flurry of teasing whistles, Zhang Mingsheng’s excitement only grew.
“I want to do her but can’t,” he said, grabbing a hostess’s hand and pressing it to his crotch. “Take a look, everyone, is my junk up to par or what?”
The crowd watched as Zhang Mingsheng visibly hardened, and he deliberately groped the hostess’s chest.
“Brother Zhang’s got it going on!”
“What’s the use? He still can’t do his wife!”
“Let Brother Zhang try her backdoor!”
“Women just need a good pounding, do it enough, and they loosen up, right, Brother Zhang? Hahaha.”
The men’s shameless dirty words, and seven or eight streets away, Zhang Minsheng’s so-called frigid wife sat blankly in front of the dining table.
The food was already completely cold.
Qin Mo’s heart was also completely cold, or say like dead ashes.
After the honeymoon ended with Qin Mo’s vaginal bleeding, the couple’s feelings had not started yet but already fell down.
Qin Mo felt guilty in her heart, always thinking of doing something to save it.
From caring words to tonight pushing away work to come back to cook.
Qin Mo even repeatedly persuaded herself to let Zhang Minsheng use lubricant and do it once again.
But she was still disappointed.
Zhang Minsheng doesn't care about their marriage at all, maybe what he cared about was only his dick being able to stick into a pretty woman.
….
The tomato egg noodles gave off faint thin steam on the table
The rich fragrance rushed to her nose, together with the warm yellow dining room light, a different kind of warmth.
Qin Mo was completely stunned there.
The familiar memory from not too long ago, mercilessly stabbed into Qin Mo’s heart.
After so long, someone finally washed their hands and made soup for her. And that person… was the woman she keeps with her wallet.
Heh…
A trace of self-mockery flashed in her eyes, and for a moment Qin Mo felt it was very funny.
The love she once believed in collapsed into ashes. Qin Mo suddenly wanted to cross time and space, to find that Qin Mo who hadn’tbyet graduated, who still longed for the future and for love, and give her a hard slap!
Then say to her:
“The love you thought of is nothing but a big joke! Not even as good as a kept woman bought with money!”
Yes, a love Qin Mo once worked hard to protect was not as good as the short few days of “love” she bought with money.
“Qin Mo,” Shen Jin called softly, then handed her a pair of chopsticks. “Try it.”
“…”
At some point she was already led by Shen Jin to the table and sat down on the chair.
The smell of tomato egg sauce grew stronger, almost rushing all into Qin Mo’s nose, wrapping around her sense of smell.
Qin Mo stared blankly at the homestyle noodles in front of her, and suddenly, without knowing, tears fell.
But she acted like she didn’t notice, still smiling as she said to Shen Jin, “It smells good, thank you.”
Her tone sounded happy, but the shine of tears on her face was too hard to ignore.
Clearly tears were flowing, yet she still forced a smile.
Shen Jin’s heart ached faintly again.
Her brows knitted lightly, she looked at Qin Mo for a few seconds, then suddenly stood up.
“I’ll see if the ginger soup is ready,” her voice softened, “Ms. Qin, eat slowly.”
With that, she turned, stepped into the kitchen in a few strides, and shut the door on purpose with a sound.
Only Qin Mo was left alone in the dining room.
The warm yellow light still softly covered her, but Qin Mo suddenly covered her mouth and cried in a low voice.
Kitchen.
The ginger soup simmered on low heat, bubbling now and then, sending up waves of white steam.
Shen Jin frowned, silently staring at the shut kitchen door.
Through the frosted glass, half-transparent, aside from a thin line of light slipping in under the door, Shen Jin could only see a blur of white.
She couldn’t see Qin Mo, and Qin Mo couldn’t see her.
Shen Jin knew Qin Mo was crying, but she had no way to go out now.
She let out a heavy low sigh, rubbed her brow in some weariness, her heart tightening.
Reaching to open the ceiling cabinet on the right, Shen Jin felt along the side and pulled out a pack of women’s cigarettes and a lighter.
She flipped the box open, took a slim cigarette, and held it between her lips. With a snap she lit it, tilting her head.
The tip burned with a small orange flame. Shen Jin took a deep puff, then slowly breathed out smoke.
A gray-white puff rose before her eyes, twisting suddenly in midair, then scattering, fading little by little.
Her chest felt blocked. Holding the cigarette, Shen Jin narrowed her eyes slightly and took another deep breath.
The smoke that hadn’t faded slipped into her nose. Women’s cigarettes, the smell of tobacco isn't too strong, instead dry and clean.
The ginger soup kept bubbling lightly. Shen Jin stretched her long legs forward a bit, her lower back against the counter, her whole body leaning lazily.
She stared at the frosted glass door, and suddenly a wave of helplessness came over her.
Her fingers tapped the slim cigarette, the ash spun down like bits of silver-gray snow, scattering loosely on the floor.
Her little kitten is crying, just a door away, yet she didn’t dare go out.
Most women who cry from sadness need some gentle comfort, but some women only need a place where they can cry quietly without being seen.
Qin Mo was the latter.
She felt a strange regret for casually blurting she was a kept woman, and now she really had to become a “kept woman.”
Being Qin Mo’s kept woman wasn’t bad at all. Shen Jin was willing. Only—she seemed to be shut out too.
“To be a kept woman? Aren’t you afraid people will treat you like someone they can call and dismiss at will? Who would believe a kept woman paid with money has real feelings?”
Yan Jingyao’s words of advice suddenly echoed in her ears, and at this moment Shen Jin regretted it.
She was still too hasty.
Now Qin Mo was as sensitive as a startled cat. After being deeply hurt without mercy, how could she easily believe in love again?
Much less a love held together by ‘allowance money.’
Shen Jin’s brows furrowed tighter.
Qin Mo was like someone who locked herself in a dark room, unwilling to open her heart to anyone.
And naturally Shen Jin was also in the range she shut out.
Suddenly there was the sound of a door. Shen Jin froze for a moment, then gave a helpless bitter smile.
Her little kitten had run away again.
She threw the cigarette, less than a third burned, straight on the floor and crushed it under her foot, then opened the door and went out.
Sure enough, Qin Mo was already gone from the dining room.
That bowl of tomato egg noodles still sat untouched on the table.
Shen Jin’s eyes darkened. She stared at the bowl for a while, then stepped forward and picked it up.
The noodles were completely cold.
The sauce that once smelled rich was now icy, its color dull, no longer tempting at all.
The noodles clumped into a sticky lump. Shen Jin lifted some with chopsticks and let out a silent sigh.
Her little kitten still hadn’t eaten the “cat food” she made.