Chapter 3 : Necklace for couples

By the time Qi Yuanhan was fully awake, her skirt was lifted to her waist by Ye Qinghe.
A coolness spread across her skin, her aroused cells beginning to stir.
Her blurred vision cleared, and she watched Ye Qinghe tuck stray hairs behind her ear.
Those red lips hovered, poised to descend.

Qi Yuanhan closed her eyes.
But in the final seconds, she turned her head away.
Ye Qinghe whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Her breath grazed Qi Yuanhan’s ear, hot and scalding.

Qi Yuanhan said, “I don’t like women.”
“Is that like how you don’t drink alcohol?” Ye Qinghe asked.
Qi Yuanhan hummed, her voice hoarse.
Ye Qinghe leaned closer, “But you lied.”

Qi Yuanhan looked at Ye Qinghe, confused.
She truly never touched alcohol, not a drop since childhood.
No matter the time or place, she held to that principle.
Ye Qinghe met her gaze, kneeling beside her, the bedsheet sinking deeply under her knees.

Her leg pressed against Qi Yuanhan’s waist.
Lying flat, Qi Yuanhan found the position uncomfortable, the sensation of being pinned grating.
She propped herself up with her arms, trying to rise, when Ye Qinghe said, “Didn’t you say you were asexual?”
On that, Qi Yuanhan hadn’t lied.

Whenever Zhou Weichuan tried to touch her, a visceral disgust surged, urging her to retch.
Sometimes, just sharing space with him, breathing his scent, was unbearable.
Perhaps knowing he cheated while feigning devotion made her body instinctively recoil.
Qi Yuanhan’s movements froze.

With one arm braced, she sought to break free, but Ye Qinghe sat on her waist, drawing a soft groan from Qi Yuanhan.
Ye Qinghe pinched her chin, fingers tracing her lips.
Her touch was masterful, gliding along the lip’s outline, prying them open like a tongue teasing hers—light, ticklish, an inescapable net.
When it ended, Qi Yuanhan’s lips were wet.

Ye Qinghe did nothing more.
She collapsed beside her, panting as if exhausted, and asked, “Do you think people can control their desires?”
It was late, the clock’s tick-tock marking the quiet passage of time.
Qi Yuanhan had no interest in midnight philosophy.

She rolled over, curling her legs to sleep, as was her habit.
Normally, her sleep was light, requiring medication.
This time, she closed her eyes and slipped into a dream.
Morning sunlight danced on her eyelids, fine and fragmented, urging her awake.

Her arm was numb from pressure.
She shifted, pressing against something soft.
Glancing over, she saw Ye Qinghe still beside her.
Ye Qinghe had slept in her room all night?

Ye Qinghe stirred, her breath brushing Qi Yuanhan’s shoulder, eyes sleepy with unawakened languor.
“Good morning,” she murmured.
Qi Yuanhan sat up, rubbing her numb forearm, grabbing the nightdress from the floor and slipping it on.
She caught Ye Qinghe fastening her bra’s hidden clasp.

Her fingers slipped under the hem, revealing slender waist dimples.
The fabric slid down with a rustle as she finished.
Ye Qinghe left the room first.
As she opened the door, Zhou Weichuan’s hand was raised to knock.

Seeing the scene, his eyes widened slightly.
Morning Breakfast
The three ate together.
Zhou Weichuan poured Qi Yuanhan milk, arranged her plate meticulously, and asked, “Did you sleep well last night?”

Qi Yuanhan tilted her head, letting him see her radiant complexion.
“Tsk, how can my wife be so beautiful?”
Yet, a flicker of worry lingered in Zhou Weichuan’s eyes.
Once suspicion takes root in a man, it’s endless.

He was baffled, unable to fathom why his mistress, meant to be with him, ended up in Qi Yuanhan’s room, fearing she’d uncovered his affair.
Qi Yuanhan couldn’t explain and stayed silent.
She couldn’t say: Idiot, your mistress wants to sleep with me, okay?
Eye contact darted across the table.

Zhou Weichuan glanced at Ye Qinghe alongside Qi Yuanhan.
The human eye sees widely—it’s just a matter of choosing to ignore.
Breakfast passed in peaceful tranquility.
Zhou Weichuan offered to drive Qi Yuanhan to the company, unsure what to do with Ye Qinghe.

He even suggested Ye Qinghe stay longer, returning next weekend.
Ye Qinghe spoke up, “I won’t intrude further, lest you find me annoying and bar me from visiting.”
Smart women know when to advance or retreat.
This was why Ye Qinghe stood out among mistresses.

She mastered boundaries flawlessly.
Zhou Weichuan nodded, “Alright, head back then. Come by often.”
Qi Yuanhan fetched a key and handed it to Ye Qinghe.
Ye Qinghe took it, her fingers circling Qi Yuanhan’s palm, mirroring last night’s touch—right under Zhou Weichuan’s nose.

The sensation was itchy, unsettling.
Qi Yuanhan sat in the passenger seat, fist clenched, unmoving.
Zhou Weichuan whistled at her.
She pretended not to hear.

He chuckled, “Are you admiring the scenery or mad at me?”
Neither.
Qi Yuanhan simply wasn’t in the mood to engage him.
The traffic light turned red.

Zhou Weichuan tapped the steering wheel, the horn amplifying his helplessness.
“Baby, don’t be mad. I can’t help it. You know my mother—she’s always wanted to split us up. She sent someone over. I’m stuck.”
They seemed the envied couple in their circle.

Together since childhood, yet an inescapable force loomed: the rift between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.
Zhou Weichuan’s mother, Madam Zhou, was their marriage’s fiercest foe.
She believed Qi Yuanhan had ulterior motives, unfit for her son.

Marrying Zhou Weichuan brought him no grand benefits.
Qi Yuanhan’s eyes held no love—just pretense, chasing his wealth, the Zhou family’s fortune.
Qi Yuanhan said soothingly, “Don’t worry, I respect her deeply.”
Zhou Weichuan exhaled, relieved.

His smile crinkled his eyes, “Baby, you’re so good. Thank you for understanding. My mother doesn’t trouble you, and it won’t affect us. You know my heart’s always been yours, unwavering, even now we’re happy.”
Qi Yuanhan hummed, gentle and considerate, “It’s because I’m not good enough.”
‘After all, Madam Zhou is the only one who sees my ambition,’ she thought. ‘Why wouldn’t I respect her? I must be better, flawless, to hide my tracks. What I want is the entire Zhou family.’

Zhou Weichuan kept talking, “Baby, you’re alone, no family, but I’ll be your lifelong support.”
The car stopped in the garage.
He opened her door gallantly, escorting her to the office entrance.
With a mysterious smile, he raised his brows.

Qi Yuanhan noticed, mirroring a slight smile, “What is it?”
“You’ll see. Go in,” Zhou Weichuan said.
She pushed the glass door and stepped inside.
He grabbed her shoulders, “You’re just going? No kiss?”

Honestly, Qi Yuanhan loathed kissing him, or even his touch.
She turned, ignoring him.
His silly laughter echoed behind her.
Company staff stared, puzzled.

Seeing Zhou Weichuan so giddy, they joined in, laughing.
But in their minds, they wondered: Why was Qi Yuanhan expressionless, almost disdainful, while Zhou Weichuan grinned like a fool?
Unable to grasp it, they labeled it: PDA!
[TL Note: “PDA” replaces “虐狗” (nüè gǒu), slang for public affection that irks singles, adapted for clarity.]

The company group chat buzzed, vividly recounting Qi Yuanhan and Zhou Weichuan’s flirty antics.
Zhou Weichuan upset her, lingering at the office door, too henpecked to enter, while Qi Yuanhan was deemed gentle and shy.
That afternoon, Zhou Weichuan returned, carrying a luxury gift bag.
The logo screamed expense.

He sat on the office sofa, hands on knees, staring at Qi Yuanhan for ten minutes.
“I spent all morning buying this to cheer you up. Still ignoring me?” he said tenderly.
Qi Yuanhan, swamped with work, was busy.
He unveiled a pink diamond platinum necklace, “This store requires an ID, one style per man, lifetime limit. See my devotion to you.”

Men are irksome, especially when women are working.
He thought her anger was a mystery, needing coaxing, unaware she was tired of his sweet talk.
Qi Yuanhan glanced over—it was stunning.
Zhou Weichuan fastened it on her, the small pendant gleaming on her chest.

She offered a shy smile, snapping two selfies on her phone.
Zhou Weichuan, seeing his desired reaction, left satisfied.
Qi Yuanhan ripped off the necklace, resuming her documents coldly.
She finished work, then asked her secretary to process it.

After, she browsed her phone.
Instagram was lively.
She paused at a photo: a blue diamond necklace on white velvet, same tassel pendant, but with a crescent moon center, unlike her red rose.
Slender fingers grazed the box’s edge, rounded fingertips teasing the platinum chain.

The filter’s cold light gave it an aloof chill.
Qi Yuanhan glanced at her own pendant.
The blue gem’s refracted light mimicked moonlight.
This brand limited purchases to one per ID, but a determined man could find a thousand ways to buy two, just as a scumbag could spin thousands of sweet lies.

“Wow, a couple’s gift from President Zhou? Gorgeous!”
Secretary Xiao Zhu, delivering documents, glimpsed Qi Yuanhan’s screen.
Qi Yuanhan swiped away, panicked.
Her breathing hitched, but she replied softly.

Xiao Zhu hadn’t seen clearly, “Is it a couple’s style, President Qi? You and President Zhou are so lovey-dovey.”
Couple’s style?
Qi Yuanhan pinched the 6-carat pink diamond, its hard edge warming, scorching her fingers.
She scrolled again, finding Zhou Weichuan’s Instagram post from an hour ago, after leaving.

[Zhou Weichuan: Done.]
It was flooded with likes and “respect” comments.
Ye Qinghe’s like was among them.
Soon after, another like appeared.

[TL Note: The original used “虐狗” (nüè gǒu), slang for PDA that irks singles, adapted to “PDA” for clarity. “渣男” (zhā nán, scumbag) was translated directly to preserve tone. Italics emphasize sensory details (e.g., rustle, tick-tock), emotional shifts (e.g., confused, panicked), and key visuals (e.g., red rose, crescent moon). Bold marks the title and a scene break for clarity, per user preference for emphasis.]