Mr. Lu, stop being such a jerk. Your wife is your nemesis's white moonlight.

It was already late at night when I got back to the small building.

Xu An'an helped Yan Heng out of the elevator.

The two doors stood facing each other.

She stopped and turned around, asking casually, "Your place or mine?"

Yan Heng was taken aback.

Seeing that he didn't speak, Xu An'an changed her question: "Should I go to your house to take care of you these few days, or should you come to my house and I take care of you?"

"Living together?"

Yan Heng felt like he was dreaming.

The "taking care" that Hsu An-an mentioned actually means living together?

"Yes," Xu An'an looked him in the eye frankly, "the doctor said you need to have your wound dressed again tonight. You're left-handed, what can you do with just your right hand?"

Upon hearing Xu An'an's words, Yan Heng's mind went blank for two seconds.

Although he is left-handed, he was required to write with his right hand from a young age. In theory, a right hand that can perform such a fine motor skill as writing can do almost anything.

However, Xu An'an's suggestion was simply too tempting.

How strong must a person's sense of morality and willpower be to refuse the offer from the woman they love to live under the same roof and take care of them...?

Anyway, he can't do it.

"...Come to my house." Yan Heng succumbed to his desires.

After a "beep" sound, the entryway light automatically turned on.

This was the first time Xu An'an had visited Yan Heng's home.

Her first thought was that the house was too empty.

The black, white, and gray color scheme, while indicating high-quality decor, makes the space feel overly empty and cold. It doesn't feel like a home where people live; rather, it resembles a minimalist Italian showroom.

The only place in the entire house that felt human was a shelf, on which a safe was placed like a precious treasure.

The safe wasn't very big; it was about the size of a shoebox.

It was probably storing some important company secrets, Xu An'an didn't pay much attention to it.

She and Yan Heng had both been in the water today, so they definitely couldn't sleep without taking a shower.

Xu An'an first washed herself clean in the bathroom of the guest room, changed into pajamas she had brought from the house across the street, and then came out.

She rolled up her sleeves and walked naturally into the kitchen.

After walking around for a while, I asked, "Do you have any larger plastic bags?"

Even though she took a shower upstairs, Yan Heng felt that the entire living room was filled with steam.

He swallowed hard. "There are garbage bags in the second drawer of the kitchen."

"Trash bags..." Xu An'an frowned slightly. "That'll do."

A short while later, Xu An'an came out carrying two huge black garbage bags.

She cut a large hole in the middle with scissors, stacked the two layers together, and put them over Yan Heng's head without saying a word.

"What are you going to do?"

Yan Heng stuck his head out, looked at the garbage bag on his body that looked like a cloak, and asked, puzzled.

Looking at his current appearance, even though he was wearing a garbage bag and his hair was messy and frizzy, he was still handsome in a unique way. She suddenly understood the aesthetic of Balenciaga's design director.

Thinking of this, she laughed and ruffled his hair, which was mixed with some dirt and sand, a couple more times.

"What else can I do? I'll wash your hair."

......

Xu An'an laid a dry towel on the bathroom floor, then placed a cushion on it, and patted her thigh: "Come on, lie down."

Yan Heng was taken aback.

"...What?"

"Lie down," Xu An'an explained naturally. "If you sit, the water from washing your hair will run down your back, and it might wet the wound. Lie on my lap, and I'll use the showerhead to wash you. The water will flow directly to the floor and won't touch the wound."

She spoke frankly and openly, her eyes clear, genuinely believing that washing her hair this way would be good for Yan Heng's wound.

In front of Xu An'an like this, Yan Heng felt utterly despicable.

He hesitated, then finally lay down.

Through the thin fabric of his loungewear, he could feel the warmth of Xu An'an's legs. The scent of tangerines mingled with the misty steam wafted into Yan Heng's nostrils, and he could almost hear his own heart pounding wildly.

Xu An'an adjusted his position to make him more comfortable, then placed a towel under his neck, tested the water temperature, and began to pour water on his hair.

Her movements were light and steady. Her fingers ran through his hair, her fingertips gently massaging his scalp with just the right amount of pressure.

Xu An'an washed very carefully, even rubbing the area behind her ears and along her hairline meticulously.

She was single-minded, but Yan Heng was not.

With his eyes closed, he could clearly feel the curve of her thighs, the slight rise and fall of her abdomen as she breathed, and... the subtle touches she made when she bent over.

The scent of green tangerines, mixed with moisture, was like a slow-acting poison, gradually eroding his reason.

Every time she pressed her fingers on her scalp, a tingling sensation would shoot from the top of her head along her spine to her tailbone.

Then it surged downwards again.

The muscles tensed uncontrollably.

Yan Heng dared not open his eyes, only able to hear his rapid heartbeat pounding in his chest and vibrating all the way to his eardrums, which was especially clear in the enclosed sound of flowing water.

Fortunately, Xu An'an did not notice anything unusual.

She squeezed some shampoo into her palm, rubbed it together, and then applied it back to his hair, continuing to massage it slowly and deliberately.

"After all these years, you're still using this shampoo?" Xu An'an asked casually.

"...Yeah," Yan Heng heard his own voice sound tight and hoarse, "I'm used to it."

"oh."

Xu An'an didn't ask any further questions and continued with what she was doing.

The foam became rich and carried a faint fragrance.

Her fingertips traced circles on his scalp, each stroke hitting Yan Heng's most sensitive nerves.

Yan Heng felt like he was going crazy.

He had lived for so many years and could remain unmoved in the face of countless clever and deliberate temptations, yet he was utterly defeated by Xu An'an with just a few fingers.

He sat up abruptly.

Water splashed all over Xu An'an. She was startled, still clutching the showerhead.

"What's wrong?" Xu An'an asked anxiously, "Did I hurt you?"

"...No." Yan Heng didn't look at her, his voice muffled. "I can just rinse myself off."

He reached for the showerhead, his movements so quick they were almost frantic.

Just as he turned to the side, Xu An'an's gaze inadvertently swept over his lower body.

The next second, her pupils contracted.

Under the warm yellow light of the bathroom, the gray cotton lounge pants couldn't hide anything.

Xu An'an froze as if a pause button had been pressed.

Her mind went blank for a full three seconds. Her hands, covered in foam, remained raised in the same spot, the fluffy foam dripping down her forearms and wetting her sleeves, but she didn't react at all.

Yan Heng followed her gaze and looked down, instantly freezing into a statue.

The air freezes.

Xu An'an's face burned from the base of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Yan Heng!" She abruptly turned her head away, her voice a mixture of shame and anger.

"What time is it? You still have the mind to think about this!"