“Soundproof? If Not, Then Keep Your Voice Down.”

His hand remained beneath her clothes. Even though it merely rested quietly on her waist, its presence was unmistakably dominant.

Elena Shen bit back the sting on her lips and tongue from his fervent kisses, pushing at his arm in a futile attempt to pull his hand away.

She barely gave his question a thought before nodding her head.

After all, they were in the Shen family villa. Her brother didn't have a girlfriend, and few people ever stayed here over the years. Not just her room—she doubted a single condom could be found in the entire house.

But just as that thought crossed her mind, her body was suddenly lifted off the ground.

Her pupils contracted as a gasp escaped her lips.

Bathed in the dim moonlight streaming through the window and the soft glow from the courtyard pillars, Ethan Jiang carried her effortlessly toward the bed.

After gently placing her down, his hand brushed over the nightstand, fingers landing on the remote for the overhead light.

Elena sat up in a flash. Before she could steady herself—

Click.

The room was flooded with light.

She squinted instinctively, her eyes not yet adjusted to the abrupt brightness.

Before she could react, her waist was seized again, and she was pressed firmly into the mattress.

Her room was very different from Ethan's.

Elena had always favored warm, soft tones. This room—her sanctuary since childhood—was decked in gentle, girlish decor. Apart from her father and Aurel Shen, no other man had ever stepped foot inside.

Now, with the lights glaring overhead and the familiar surroundings wrapping her in their once-comforting embrace, the intimacy unfolding within these walls felt especially stark.

The hem of her sweater was bunched at her waist, revealing a stretch of pale, delicate skin—like white jade kissed by the cold air. The chill tugged her thoughts back to the present, scattering the disarray in her mind.

Mist veiled her eyes. Seeking refuge from the suffocating kiss, she did what had worked before—buried her face against his chest, curling into him.

In the past, during their nights together, whenever she could no longer bear it and sought shelter in his arms, Ethan would always stop and hold her close.

But tonight, though he didn't push her away, neither did he embrace her.

Instead, something small and rectangular was slipped into her hand.

"?"

"Is it okay now, Mrs. Jiang?" he asked.

She peeked out of his chest, puzzled, and looked down.

A familiar box with a hard edge rested in her palm—a brand-new pack of condoms.

"Peach-flavored. I figured you'd like them," he said with a straight face.

Elena stared at the box as if it had materialized from thin air. "W-Where did you get these?"

"From the car," he replied. Leftover from the night in the garage. Figured tonight, they'd finally come in handy."

He unboxed them with slow, deliberate movements—like he was reviewing a business contract.

His lips moved evenly, each word landing like a blow that made Elena want to disappear onto the floor:

"You said earlier that with these, we could be together. Right?"

"It's a three-pack. Not much. If that's not enough, we'll restock tomorrow night when we're back at the marital home."

Elena swallowed hard.

She wanted to take it back, deny she'd ever said those words. But Ethan didn't give her a chance.

Before she could crawl beneath the sheets, he had already picked her up again and carried her to the bathroom. When they emerged, one of the condoms was promptly placed in her hand.

As he leaned down again, his fingers brushed her burning ear, and his voice dipped low:

"Is your room soundproof?"

Elena's eyes flew open, a flicker of hope lighting within. She answered quicker than she ever had in her life—shaking her head with utter conviction.

"No, it's not."

And her brother was home. The thought of being overheard was mortifying.

She was about to suggest they wait until tomorrow, but Ethan only chuckled, rubbing her lips with his thumb.

Then, with his usual disregard for her expectations, he gripped her waist and entered her. Elena gasped, frowning deeply, and heard his voice against her ear again:

"If it's not soundproof—then keep your voice down."

Damn it!

She bit down so hard, she nearly drew blood.

Time blurred. Sometime in the haze of the night, she vaguely remembered him asking again if her room was soundproof.

Lying there, barely coherent, she glanced at the two discarded wrappers beside the pillow and forced herself to shake her head again.

"Still not."

At half past ten that night, Aurel Shen came down from the second floor.

A maid carrying a glass of warm milk asked the butler if she should bring it to Miss Elena.

The butler was about to advise against it, given Mr. Jiang's presence, when he caught sight of Aurel.

He turned quickly, greeting him respectfully, "Mr. Shen."

Aurel paused at the staircase landing, his gaze falling on the glass of milk.

"It's late. Elena and Mr. Jiang are in the room. No need to disturb them. You can all retire for the night."

In the past few years, whenever Aurel returned home, he often worked past midnight. Seeing him up at this hour again, the butler instinctively moved to prepare tea—but froze when he heard Aurel's next words.

He looked at his employer, then silently followed the maid out to the servants' quarters.

With the house now wrapped in silence, the villa seemed even more desolate under the cover of night.

Aurel stood alone in front of the towering floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of wine in hand, clad in a simple shirt and slacks.

The night outside was still and quiet. A gentle wind stirred the treetops in the courtyard, casting flickering shadows that danced in the moonlight's dim glow.

He stood there motionless, staring into the blurred lights beyond the glass.

His mind replayed every scene—every time Elena had assured him that this marriage was her choice.

The final memory lingered the longest: her standing before him, head lowered, her voice soft but unwavering as she said, "We're in love. This is mutual."

Aurel closed his eyes. When he opened them again, every trace of darkness had vanished from their depths.

He lifted the glass and downed its contents in one smooth motion.

Then he turned away, set the glass down, took a seat on the sofa, and resumed a video conference.

When it ended, he arranged for Jason Fang to prepare for tomorrow's business trip. Before heading upstairs, he peeled off a sticky note and scribbled a short message—just like when they were kids—letting Elena know he'd be leaving in the morning.

At nine o'clock the next morning, Elena Shen opened her eyes, aching all over.

She didn't get up right away. Instead, she lay in bed, recovering from the night's exertions.

The chaotic scenes from last night swirled through her mind. Shaking her head vigorously to banish the images, she finally crawled out of bed—moving like a snail, wincing from the aftereffects of their intimacy.

Kneeling before the trash can, she peeked in and began counting the number of used wrappers inside.