He came over to my house again tonight.

Just now, it was pouring cats and dogs outside. We didn't have any pretenses, attacking the main agenda straight away, trying myriad positions we hadn’t dared before, from the living room couch to the bedroom bay window, until all turned dark.

However, the short-lived passion didn't seem to change anything. Once reason returned, there was a certain sense of ineffable disappointment in my heart.

I've lost count of the number of times I've indulged in such behaviors.

Since my husband passed away six to seven years ago, I have scarcely been with other men. I’ve been waking up early every day and burning the midnight oil to manage my company, almost forgetting about my desires. I always felt that once I had my career, men became trivial creatures. That's why being single for seven or eight years didn't seem odd until I met him tonight.

I glanced at him, sitting on the edge of the bed smoking a post-coital cigarette. As he exhaled the smoke, a charming melancholy lined the corners of his mouth - one can’t deny that he is fatally attractive to women from every angle.

His name is Jiang Feng, the only man who can freely enter and exit my world, and so far, the best man for me.

Yes, he is very 'good' to me. Obedient, caring, always available, and always replies to my messages instantly. But traditionally, he is a jerk.

Because all his 'good' is for my money, it has absolutely no link with love.

I met him half a year ago on a late-night.

One night, due to a car navigation error, I entered a lane and found him lying in a pool of blood, on the brink of death. I am not the kind of person who likes to meddle in other people's affairs, but his handsome features caught my eye... finally, I sent him to the hospital.

When he woke up, he decided to cling to me.

He said his name was Jiang Feng, both parents dead, penniless, and asked me to charitably 'shelter' him.

I didn't care about how much truth or lies were in his spiel, all I knew was that I was deeply attracted to his appearance... His face, his style, clean lines, the more I looked at him, the stronger the impulse I felt to brew a story with him.

I took him in to nurse his injuries in my villa and asked him to help me with housework. He washed my clothes clean, kept the house spotless, and his culinary skills were first-rate. Even the plants barely surviving under my housemaid’s care, flourished with his touch.

One night later on, we had a bit too much to drink and in a drunken daze, ended up in the same bed...It was such an addictive thing, once there was the first night, there was the second night, the third night, the fourth night... After each episode, I would give him money, whatever I felt like giving, sometimes a sum reaching six figures. He never refused, always accepted it graciously.

Then later on, for the sake of 'getting things done' more conveniently, I arranged for him to become my personal assistant.

Although he might appear like a good-looking, kept man, he was essentially a walking encyclopedia. Apart from sorting out business issues for me, he also served as my driver, bodyguard, chef, mechanic... There was practically no skill he didn't possess. His intelligence sometimes disquieted me, and he became increasingly enigmatic.

Like tonight, I sensed that something was off about him—

He sat on the other side of the bed, chain-smoking, deep in thought about who knows what, not saying a single word to me. His phone rang three times, each time he would step out to answer it, then return with a serious expression on his face after a few minutes.

I had no idea what was going on in his world, but I could certainly sense that he was a little cold and tense tonight, a stark contrast to his usual carefree and unrestrained demeanor.

Without a word, I observed him, reflexively stretching a leg out to drape it over him... My foot played about on his broad, firm chest, then traveled upwards until the toes touched his chin. After admiring his handsome face, I lightly asked, "Tell me, who are you really?"

"..." Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he looked at me with a complex and subtle expression, "What do you mean?"