The Condition That Wasn’t There

Jiang Jibai didn’t finish clearing the mountain of paperwork on his desk until four-thirty in the afternoon.

Wen Xi had dozed off on the sofa.

When she woke up, he wasn’t in the office.

She sat up groggily, the blanket sliding down her shoulders.

She grabbed it, rubbed her eyes, and looked around.

The office was empty.

Just as she picked up her phone to call him, the door opened.

Jiang Jibai walked in carrying a cup of tea.

“Planning to keep sleeping?” he asked.

Wen Xi glanced at her watch.

Four-thirty.

She suddenly remembered her real mission for the day.

She flung off the blanket and jumped off the sofa.

“No more sleeping! Let’s go cook at your place!”

Originally, she’d planned to order groceries online.

That would save time.

But when she asked for his address, he said there was a supermarket downstairs from his apartment.

So she didn’t place an online order.

They drove to the supermarket first.

Wen Xi charged ahead energetically.

Jiang Jibai followed at an unhurried pace.

“Jiang Jibai, push the cart.”

He said nothing, but turned toward the carts.

“Ribs, check! Tomatoes, check! Eggs, check! Mushrooms…”

Half an hour later, the cart was nearly full.

She double-checked the ingredient list on her phone.

“All set! Just one last thing before checkout!”

“Jiang Jibai, hurry up!”

He lifted his gaze.

A few seconds later, he pushed the cart into the alcohol aisle.

“I don’t drink beer,” he said calmly.

Wen Xi coughed lightly.

“It’s not for you. Just… backup. What if your friends or lab colleagues come over for hotpot? You need drinks to host them.”

“There’s alcohol at home,” he replied.

“And I don’t like having guests. So there won’t be such a need.”

Wen Xi only caught the first part.

There’s alcohol at home.

Perfect.

She immediately put the beer back.

“Okay! Then no need to buy any. Let’s check out!”

Near dinner time, the checkout lines were crowded.

Jiang Jibai queued with the cart.

Wen Xi stood beside him.

The thin man in front of them grabbed two boxes from a rack and tossed them onto the counter.

Wen Xi’s gaze flicked over the shelf behind him.

Condoms.

A whole row.

Different brands.

Her mind instantly jumped to Jiang Jibai’s so-called “condition.”

She glanced sideways at him.

Even in just a white shirt and tailored trousers, broad shoulders and narrow waist, he drew attention effortlessly.

Cold and refined.

But no matter how perfect he looked, he supposedly had… issues.

She worried the sight of condoms might remind him of it.

Without a word, she stepped forward and blocked the shelf with her body.

Jiang Jibai’s lowered gaze swept over her.

“It’s your turn,” she said quickly, pointing at the counter.

He was a head taller than her.

Even if she blocked it, he could still see the colorful boxes behind her.

“Go ahead. I’ll pay,” he said.

She didn’t move.

“It’s just a little money. Doesn’t matter who pays.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he grasped her wrist easily and pulled her toward the cart.

Then his hand pressed lightly against her back, guiding her forward.

She had no chance to resist.

In seconds, she was trapped between him and the cart.

“Hello, please scan your membership,” the cashier chirped.

“No membership, just pay,” Wen Xi said, tossing items onto the counter while shooting him an annoyed look.

She’d been thinking of his feelings.

He didn’t even get it.

He stepped forward slightly, positioning himself fully behind her.

Completely blocking her from view.

The supermarket was crowded.

Several men in line had been glancing over.

Her standing directly in front of the condom rack hadn’t gone unnoticed.

After checkout, he carried both heavy bags.

She followed behind.

**

His apartment complex was one of the most expensive near Ning University.

Luxury cars everywhere.

“It’s so quiet here,” she said.

“Even quieter than my villa area. I kind of want to buy a place here.”

“No need,” he said flatly.

“I have other properties here. I’ll have one transferred to your name tomorrow.”

She shook her head.

“Even if we’re nominal spouses, I can’t just take it. I have money. My wallet is very healthy.”

He didn’t respond further.

They took the elevator to the ninth floor.

One elevator per unit.

The door opened directly into his entryway.

They changed shoes.

She wore disposable slippers.

He had said he didn’t entertain guests.

So those were likely for family.

He carried the groceries into the kitchen.

She lingered in the entryway, looking around.

Six hundred square meters, give or take.

Silver-white tones.

Modern.

Minimal.

High-tech aesthetic.

Very him.

She wandered toward the kitchen.

After two steps, something warm and wet licked her hand.

She looked down.

A massive white Samoyed stood beside her, tail wagging happily.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!”

She shrieked and bolted into the kitchen.

Jiang Jibai heard the scream and stepped out.

A soft body slammed into him.

He stopped.

She had leapt up, legs wrapped around his waist, arms clinging to his neck like a koala.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a dog?!”

“It was in the file I gave you,” he replied calmly.

She remembered.

She’d assumed the dog lived at the old house.

Not here.

He made a hand gesture.

The Samoyed trotted obediently toward the balcony.

“It’s gone. You can get down.”

“I won’t!” she cried, burying her face into his shoulder.

“So you plan to cook while hanging on me?”

“Lock your dog in a room! I’m scared!”

“You get down. I’ll lock it.”

“No! Put me in the kitchen first!”

He turned without hesitation and carried her into the kitchen.

“You can let go now.”

She checked carefully.

Then slowly slid down.

“Hurry!”

He closed the kitchen door.

After a while, he reopened it.

“It’s locked away.”

She had already lost interest in cooking.

“Let’s order takeout,” she said weakly.

He didn’t object.

She peeked carefully before stepping back into the living room.

He stood at the bar drinking water.

She sat on the sofa and ordered food.

She wanted to leave.

But she hadn’t accomplished her goal yet.

After takeout arrived, she transferred everything to his plates and asked him to pose for a photo.

He cooperated briefly.

Then stood to leave.

She grabbed his sleeve.

“We haven’t eaten. Let’s not waste it.”

He sat back down.

“After this, I’ll drive you back.”

“Okay!”

Her eyes drifted toward the wall of liquor behind him.

He hadn’t lied.

A full wall of spirits.

She coughed lightly.

“Even though I couldn’t see my idol, I’m still grateful. Let me toast you.”

She grabbed a bottle of brandy.

Poured two glasses.

“I’m driving later,” he said.

“Call a driver. Please don’t reject my gratitude!”

She handed him the glass with both hands.

He looked at her.

Then accepted.

And drained it in one smooth motion.

She smiled and only took a small sip of hers.

Another glass.

Then another.

He didn’t refuse.

She was starting to feel lightheaded.

He still looked steady.

She poured again.

“If you can sleep here tonight, keep pouring,” he said, voice slightly hoarse now.

She froze.

Sleep here?

With the dog?

Absolutely not.

She retreated to the kitchen under the excuse of grabbing chopsticks.

Instead, she found honey and chugged a huge glass of honey water.

Honey sobers you up.

She returned.

He was by the coffee table, checking his phone.

She poured one last nearly full glass.

“One last one.”

He turned, looking down at her.

“You’re determined to get me drunk, aren’t you?”

She flushed.

Before she could respond, she saw the dog’s reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window.

“AH! Your dog’s out again!”

She launched herself at him.

He stumbled backward over the sofa leg and fell sitting onto the couch.

The drink spilled all over his shirt.

She scrambled fully onto him, sitting on his thighs, face buried in his neck.

He glanced toward the window.

It was just the reflection of a framed photo.

The dog was still locked away.

“It’s only the reflection.”

She cautiously lifted her head.

Realized the truth.

Then felt the wetness beneath her hands.

“Oh my god, sorry!”

She grabbed tissues and began unbuttoning his shirt in a fluster to wipe the alcohol away.

Two buttons came undone.

Her palm pressed against his abdomen.

Her first thought wasn’t about firmness.

It was that his shirt was soaked.

Then her gaze lingered.

His body was… unfairly good.

Face flawless.

Body equally sinful.

If not for his supposed “condition,” he’d be perfect.

She wiped carefully.

Completely oblivious to the change in his breathing.

He watched her hands moving across his abdomen.

After two seconds, his eyes darkened.

He caught both her wrists firmly.

“That’s enough.”

His voice was lower now.

She nodded obediently.

Then she noticed his phone lighting up beside him.

The screen wasn’t locked.

Messages from Zou Jiayun filled it.

[No matter what you say, I don’t believe you’re truly dating that Wen girl.]

[Don’t give me a contract marriage.]

[If it’s fake, divorce early and don’t delay the girl.]

[If it’s real, bring her to stay at the old house for a month or two.]

[Why aren’t you answering? Pick up.]

The phone began ringing.

He picked it up and answered.

While gesturing with his eyes for her to get off him.

She didn’t move.

Because she suddenly realized something.

Something beneath her had very clearly… risen.

Her face turned burning red.

Wait.

Didn’t he say he had a condition?