First, then, love.

Six o'clock in the evening.

Shu Yao drove her Porsche into the underground parking garage of Jinxiu Huating.

All the way, Qiaoqiao's words, "Is he impotent?" echoed in my mind like a demonic chant.

Yes, why is that?

He clearly reacted, and he clearly had a possessive desire for her.

Why does he turn into a saint the moment he gets into bed?

Could it be, as Qiaoqiao said, that he has a hidden illness? Or a psychological disorder?

With this dangerous question in mind, Shu Yao removed the car keys and stepped into the elevator.

Push open the security door.

The main lights were off inside the house; only heavy breathing and the dog's panting could be heard coming from the balcony.

Shu Yao changed into slippers and put down her bag.

Walk quietly to the balcony.

The balcony is spacious and covered with anti-corrosion wood flooring.

At this moment, the scene before her eyes made Shu Yao stop in her tracks.

He Zheng is doing push-ups.

He was shirtless, wearing only black athletic shorts.

Sweat, as if washed by water, streamed down his sharply defined muscles and splashed onto the floor.

His arms were braced on the ground, his muscles were bulging and his veins were bulging. With each rise and fall, his latissimus dorsi and pectoral muscles were stretched with explosive power.

But none of that was the most shocking.

The most shocking thing is...

The God of War, that retired German Shepherd weighing eighty pounds.

At this moment, it was lying obediently and steadily on He Zheng's back.

The combined weight of a person and a dog.

It was all thanks to He Zheng's two arms and core strength that he was able to support himself.

"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred."

He Zheng called out the numbers in a low voice, hoarse and heavy with labored breathing.

"Get down," he commanded.

The God of War immediately obeyed and jumped off his back, wagging his tail and standing to one side.

He Zheng pushed off with both arms, his whole body soaring into the air and landing steadily on the floor.

His chest heaved violently, and sweat trickled down his V-line and into the depths of his black waistband.

He picked up a towel draped over the chair next to him and casually wiped his face.

Turning my head, I saw Shu Yao standing by the sliding door.

"I'm back." His voice was low and husky from exercising.

Shu Yao did not answer.

Her gaze was fixed on her as if drawn by a magnet.

From his sweaty chest muscles, down to his flat, firm abdomen.

Finally, the focus shifts to his loose black athletic shorts.

There, because of the recent strenuous exercise, the fabric clung to her body, faintly outlining a dormant silhouette.

He can stand up; his physical strength is abnormal; his muscles are explosive.

Is it really... not possible?

The wind on the balcony carried the chill of late autumn.

Shu Yao's gaze was glued to He Zheng's black athletic shorts, as if glued to the spot.

The German Shepherd had just jumped off his back when he suddenly sprang to his feet. His blood was still surging wildly, and the outline of that area was so clear that it could not be ignored as he breathed.

He Zheng paused, his hand holding the towel to wipe his sweat.

The special police officer's intuition was extremely sharp. He followed Shu Yao's direct, even somewhat eerie and inquisitive gaze and looked down.

The air froze instantly.

He Zheng raised his eyebrows sharply.

"What are you looking at?" His voice was hoarse, with the panting from exercise.

They were caught red-handed.

Shu Yao suddenly snapped out of her daze, her cheeks flushing bright red as if she had been burned, and she quickly looked away.

"Who's looking at you! I...I'm looking at the dog! The God of War is shedding!"

She made up a clumsy lie on the spot, turned around, and walked unsteadily toward the living room, her steps so hurried that she almost bumped into the coffee table.

"I'm going back to my room to change!"

The door to the master bedroom was slammed shut.

He Zheng stood on the balcony, looking at the closed door, casually tossing the towel he used to wipe his sweat onto the chair, and glanced down at himself.

This woman, what kind of nonsense is she thinking about all day long?

*

Time flies, and it's Friday already.

City Grand Theatre.

The autumn symphony concert came to a successful close. The final note of the cello resonated in the dome of the concert hall, and the audience erupted in applause.

Shu Yao, dressed in a black velvet backless gown, sat in the principal cellist's seat, rose with the conductor, bowed, and took her bow.

It's 10:30 p.m.

The orchestra's celebration banquet was held at a high-end French bistro near the theater.

The venue was booked out; there was a long, solid wood dining table and a warm yellow retro chandelier.

The air was filled with the aroma of buttered steak and the rich scent of red wine.

Dozens of men and women involved in the arts gathered together in a lively atmosphere. Once they took off their performance costumes, they were just a group of ordinary working people.

The orchestra's conductor, Mr. Wang, was a bald old man in his fifties. When he got drunk, he went around toasting people with his wine glass.

"Come on! The string section deserves a lot of credit for today's performance! Especially Shu Yao! That cadenza was absolutely brilliant!"

Commander Wang, holding a glass of red wine, walked up to Shu Yao.

Shu Yao usually has a good alcohol tolerance and can drink several glasses.

But today, she seemed a bit out of sorts.

All night long, my mind kept replaying Qiaoqiao's probing question from the coffee shop that day: "Is he impotent?"

This curse is like a haunting ghost.

The thought of it makes me restless and irritable, with an intense, urge to explore.

"Thank you, Director Wang." Shu Yao picked up the wine glass in front of her, which contained half a glass of Burgundy red wine.

She tilted her fair neck back and drank it all in one gulp.

The red liquid slid down my throat, and a fire instantly ignited in my stomach.

"Impressive drinking capacity!" someone nearby exclaimed.

Sitting opposite Shu Yao was Xu Yang, the orchestra's principal violinist.

Twenty-six years old, a high-achieving student who had just returned from studying abroad, with a refined and fair complexion, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, he usually fawned over Shu Yao in the troupe, and it was obvious to everyone that he was interested in her.

Seeing that Shu Yao's glass was empty, Xu Yang immediately picked up the decanter and leaned over.

"Drink less, this wine has a strong aftereffect." He spoke gently and considerately poured her another half glass.

"It's okay, I'm happy today." Shu Yao didn't refuse.

Linna, who was playing the flute nearby, was a gossip and came over to chat.

"Yaoyao, I heard you moved recently? To the city center?"

Shu Yao tightened her grip on the wine glass. "Mm."

"Aren't you scared living in such a big house all by yourself? How about you consider finding a protector?" Lin Na said, winking at Xu Yang across the room.

Xu Yang blushed slightly, pushed up his glasses, and looked at Shu Yao expectantly.

Shu Yao's marriage was not made public. Apart from Qiao Qiao, no one in the band knew that she was already a married woman. The He family wanted to keep a low profile, and she was too lazy to deal with her colleagues' gossip.

She ignored Linna's words, picked up her wine glass, and took another big gulp.

The alcohol begins to take effect in the bloodstream.

My head felt heavy, my vision began to blur, and the light in front of me diffused into warm yellow patches.

Two blushes appeared on her fair cheeks, as if she had applied the finest rouge.

She was a little drunk.