Chapter 1: The Detestable Uncle

"Honey, could we move in with my uncle?"

Not long after his aunt’s funeral ended, Feng Tian spoke up that night with a conflicted look on his face, his voice sounding low in the quiet room.

Xie Jiahui set down the teacup in her hand, as if she had already seen this day coming.

She did not look surprised. She only let out a soft sigh, and a complicated emotion flickered through her eyes.

They had been married for eight years and still had not conceived a child.

Feng Tian was forty-three this year, already past middle age, and Jiahui was no longer young either. Five years younger than him, she was thirty-eight.

Their married life had always been calm and lonely. The two of them lived in a modern apartment, comfortable enough, yet it always felt a little too spacious.

Feng Tian had become an orphan at the age of five. After losing his parents early, he was raised entirely by his uncle, Feng San.

His uncle had no children of his own and had treated his nephew as if he were his own son, their bond deep and genuine.

After the marriage, Feng Tian and Jiahui built their own life and did not live with his uncle and aunt. Instead, they visited regularly to show the respect and care due to their elders.

Now, his aunt’s passing had tied this small family back together once more.

"Your uncle must be lonely living there by himself, right?"

Feng Tian hesitated and added the thought in a low voice, concern showing in his eyes, though there seemed to be more he had not said.

Jiahui did not answer right away.

She knew this was not only concern for Feng San, but also a return to filial duty.

Still, in the depths of her heart, there were perhaps some worries she had never voiced.

Feng San’s home was in the suburbs, about a thirty-minute drive from their apartment. The air was fresh and the scenery beautiful, but it was an isolated, old house, quiet as if cut off from the world.

Jiahui lifted her head and looked out the window. The night was heavy, as though it had swallowed every doubt whole.

"It’s fine. You two should just live the life you want. Jiahui will feel a lot more relaxed too."

That had been his aunt’s suggestion years ago. She had said it gently and considerately.

As an elder, she seemed to have already understood the needs of a young married couple and did not want to disturb their life together.

Although Feng San had shown a trace of dissatisfaction about his nephew and nephew’s wife not living with them, his eyes clearly carrying a lonely look, he ultimately said nothing. He quietly respected their decision and quietly guarded his own small world.

He had always been so quiet, so tolerant, as though nothing could disturb him.

But all of that changed after Feng Tian’s aunt suddenly died.

That day, Feng San seemed to age ten years in an instant. He stood alone at the funeral, his face filled with loneliness and grief, as if his world had collapsed overnight.

His aunt’s sudden departure filled Feng Tian with guilt and heartache. He realized how lonely his uncle’s situation really was.

Feng San was growing older, and daily life had become increasingly inconvenient. As the only close family he had, Feng Tian ought to give him more companionship and care.

Especially when it came to this elder who had raised him with his own hands, Feng Tian felt a responsibility he could no longer ignore.

So Feng Tian finally made up his mind and put the request to his wife that he had been weighing for a long time:

"Let’s have Uncle move in with us, okay?"

Jiahui understood that she could not refuse this request.

Feng Tian carried the responsibility of caring for his elder, and as his wife, she could not possibly oppose his wish to show filial piety.

Even though she knew this meant her freedom and independence would be disrupted, Jiahui had no other choice. She nodded lightly and smiled as she replied,

"Okay."

Only Feng Tian did not notice the helplessness and unease mixed into that smile.

Although Jiahui had not gone to her uncle-in-law’s house many times with her husband, she had already understood how difficult and lonely life was for Feng San as an elderly man living alone.

Yet this proposal for the uncle to move in stirred a faint, unspoken pressure inside her.

Jiahui had never given birth, and that had long since become a hidden burden in her life.

She could feel that Feng San and his late wife had always hoped Feng Tian would have children soon, so the family line could continue. That silent expectation weighed on her shoulders, making her want to keep her distance from them.

Although her uncle and aunt had never brought up the matter of children in front of her, the longing and implication in their eyes were impossible for Jiahui to ignore.

Feng Tian had more than once expressed to her how much he valued his hometown and his uncle, and Jiahui always answered with silence, because deep down she did not want to face the issue -

not because of the child itself, but because of the instinctive distance she felt toward Uncle Feng San.

She had never truly hated Feng San, but she could never find a sense of ease around him.

Feng San was an extremely taciturn man, his temperament as still as an old pine tree in the mountains, cold and unreadable.

Every time he returned to the family home, he would always stay alone in the study, lost in those thick books, as if the world had nothing to do with him and no one could get close.

Over the years after the marriage, Jiahui and Feng San had spoken only a handful of times.

He had never taken the initiative to talk to her about anything, nor had he shown the slightest concern for her life, and that made it impossible for her to let go of her own reservations.

What troubled her even more was that when she was at the family home, she often felt Feng San’s gaze fall on her, deep and impossible to read.

Though Feng San never said a word, those eyes seemed to be quietly examining and measuring Jiahui, leaving her at a loss for how to act.

There seemed to be something hidden in that look that she could not understand - perhaps scrutiny, perhaps expectation, even a faint, concealed desire.

Jiahui could never clearly determine what that gaze meant, but every time she met it, a wave of inexplicable unease and discomfort welled up inside her.

During the long holiday for Lunar New Year last year, Jiahui returned once again to her in-laws’ house and spent a vacation she would never forget.

That old house was in the suburbs outside the capital region, quiet and beautiful, but to Jiahui it was a suffocating space.

She had thought this holiday would be a brief family reunion. Yet the moment she stepped into the old house, she felt the oppressive atmosphere everywhere around her.

Uncle Feng San was at home too, and that invisible tension flooded into the already quiet space like a tide, leaving her at a loss.

She understood that her arrival had made the old house feel different and had dragged her into the faint but undeniable pressure of the family.

Even so, Jiahui gritted her teeth and began life there with her husband Feng Tian and Uncle Feng San.

The old house was large, a traditional two-story home with more than enough space for three people.

Feng Tian and Jiahui’s bedroom was on the second floor, bright and airy, while Feng San’s study was on the first floor, secluded and hushed, just like the man himself.

Although there was only one bathroom in the house, Jiahui kept the washing area and the toilet separated, maintaining cleanliness and order and doing her best to create a comfortable living environment for everyone.

Even so, this newly formed routine still left her tense.

She had to play the role of a good wife while also presenting herself properly as a nephew’s wife before her uncle, and that made her feel the weight of an invisible pressure at every moment.

Jiahui took on the cooking duties at home, preparing all three meals every day with care, hoping it would help maintain some balance in the family.

What truly puzzled her, though, and made her uncomfortable, was that she almost never had the chance to eat with Feng San.

Feng San always seemed to avoid dining with them, preferring to eat alone in the study. That left Jiahui running back and forth between the kitchen and the study, carrying hot food to him.

In that long, narrow hallway, Jiahui walked toward the tightly closed study door with a tray in her hands, her emotions tangled.

Every knock on the door, every moment she delivered a meal, became a struggle in her heart -

she did not want to have too much contact with Feng San, but it was a responsibility she could not avoid.

His calm answer came from inside the room, while Jiahui stood awkwardly outside; that brief meeting filled the air with an indescribable awkwardness and unease.

It seemed that the quiet old house had too many invisible boundaries, and Jiahui was carefully trying to find some balance within them.

Besides making all three meals every day, Jiahui also handled almost all the housework -

cleaning, making the beds, washing clothes, ironing, everything, down to the smallest detail, fell on her shoulders.

Especially Feng San’s study: whenever she cleaned it, Jiahui had to be extremely careful, afraid of touching the books and documents arranged neatly on the desk.

That study was less a living space than an independent world, a territory she could never enter.

Whenever Jiahui had to ask Uncle Feng San about something or seek his opinion, his answers were always cold and brief.

"Mm," or "I know."

Those simple replies were like a cold wall, cutting Jiahui off and making it impossible to cross.

Feng San’s calm, indifferent tone only bred a sense of helplessness in her, a feeling that they simply could not communicate.

No matter how hard she tried to ease the distance between them, what she got back was always those short, frustrating answers.

She could only sigh to herself and accept that nothing would change.

Her interactions with Feng San were always careful and restrained, as if a single misstep would break the fragile balance.

That awkwardness and coldness made the days of three people living under one roof feel long and oppressive.

Jiahui often wondered when this kind of life would finally come to an end.

What puzzled her most was that this inability to get along with Feng San put more needless pressure on her than even her daily life with her husband Feng Tian.

They should have been sharing the joys of family life, and yet every day Jiahui felt as though she were trapped in an invisible cage.

Rather than saying she was caring for this home, it felt more like she was being quietly swallowed by it.

Every time she stood by the window of that old house and watched the shadows of the trees swaying in the distance, she felt an unexplained loneliness and helplessness.

It was as if that old house had long since been filled with restraints she could never shake off.

"I mean... your uncle’s situation."

Jiahui’s voice sounded uncertain in the night-time living room, as if she were probing carefully.

"What is it? Is something wrong with Uncle?"

Feng Tian was loosening his tie as he asked offhandedly.

Maybe because work had been too busy, he did not seem to pay much attention to his wife’s words, simply answering out of habit.

"No, it’s not that... it’s just... he worries me."

Jiahui bit her lip, unsure how to phrase it.

She could feel Feng San always keeping a subtle distance from her, and that push-and-pull attitude left her confused.

"Worries you? What kind of worries?"

Feng Tian stopped what he was doing and looked up, his expression somewhat puzzled.

Jiahui hesitated for a moment, then said softly,

"He’s always in the study by himself... I always feel like he’s avoiding me."

Feng Tian smiled, as if he did not think it was anything worth worrying about.

"What’s the big deal? Uncle has always been like that. Isn’t he just continuing his research?"

Jiahui knew Feng Tian had always been proud of his uncle’s learning and accomplishments.

Feng San had taught at a university for many years, was widely learned, and had a steady temperament. He had always been a source of pride for the family.

And in Feng Tian’s eyes, his uncle’s preference for being alone was nothing more than a habit of burying himself in scholarship.

"But..."

Jiahui’s heart tightened, and she could not help going on.

"I keep feeling like he’s deliberately avoiding me. I don’t know if I’ve done something wrong..."

"You’re probably overthinking it."

Feng Tian patted her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"You’ve done really well, honey. You’ve kept the house running so carefully. Uncle probably just likes quiet. Don’t overthink it."

"Is that so..."

Jiahui let out a soft sigh. Her husband’s reassurance brought some comfort, but it still could not fully dispel the unease in her heart.

That faint suspicion and confusion still hovered in her mind, refusing to go away.

Even so, Jiahui gradually adjusted herself and tried to adapt to life here.

She did her best to convince herself that maybe she really was being too sensitive, that maybe Feng San’s silence was simply his habitual way of being.

But every time she passed the study door and heard the sound of pages turning inside, or those faint footsteps, the doubts in her heart and the emotions with nowhere to go would surge back like a tide.

She kept telling herself this was a family, a family she had to.

Yet that sense of belonging always felt like floating in water, with nowhere to put her feet down.

Months passed, and Feng San still remained his taciturn self, spending most of his time hidden away in the study or going out for solitary walks.

No matter how hard Jiahui tried to blend in, he remained like an impassable barrier, cutting off any interaction between them.

Whenever Feng San came out of the study and said he was going out for a walk, Jiahui would always find herself wanting to break through that distance and seize a chance to talk.

"Ah, Uncle, are you going out?"

Jiahui asked, her tone carrying a hint of anticipation and testing.

"Mm, something like that."

Feng San always answered vaguely, his tone flat, as if he did not want to say much.

After saying that, he would hurry out the door, leaving Jiahui with only a blurred back.

Those light, brisk footsteps made it impossible for her to connect him with an old man over sixty.

Feng San still seemed full of vitality, and the agility in his stride made it seem as if time had left very little mark on him.

Perhaps that was due to the life he had spent for years surrounded by university students. That vitality and youthful mindset made him look completely different from others his age.

Jiahui often secretly hoped that one day she could have a real conversation with Feng San -

one without barriers, one where they could speak honestly to each other.

She hoped that as a nephew’s wife, she could listen to his guidance like a younger generation listening to an elder, or simply chat about the trivial things in life.

But all of that seemed to exist only in her imagination. In reality, Feng San always kept that near-and-far distance from her, never letting her get close.

Day after day, that invisible tension continued to fill Jiahui’s life.

She tried to stay calm, tried to tell herself this was nothing more than the normal gap between two generations.

Yet the sense of isolation and unease in her heart was like a thin needle, pricking at her inner world every single moment.

She did not understand whether this feeling came from Feng San’s distant attitude or from her own longing to find a place in this family.

A few days later, one night, a vague event quietly occurred in Jiahui’s life -

or rather, a confusing misunderstanding.

It was the middle of July, and the sticky summer night blanketed the whole old house. The air was thick with a stifling heaviness that made it hard to breathe.

That day, as usual, Feng Tian was working overtime outside and did not come home until late at night.

Feng San was still alone in the study, and dinner followed his usual habit:

he ate by himself in the study, silently, as if sealed off from the rest of the family.

Jiahui stood in the hallway outside the study and quietly gathered up the dishes left by the door, carrying them back to the kitchen to wash.

Hot water ran over the bowls and plates with a faint rushing sound. In the quiet of the old house at night, that sound seemed especially clear, making the silence inside the house stand out all the more.

By the time she finished all the housework, it was nine o’clock at night.

She leaned tiredly against the kitchen counter, unconsciously pressing a finger to her brow, but the weariness was not only from housework.

In truth, over this period of time, what had built up more and more inside her was a desire with nowhere to go, winding through her heart like vines.

Ever since moving in with Feng San, Jiahui had found that her intimate life with her husband Feng Tian had become increasingly rare.

That physical longing and emotional dissatisfaction swirled inside her, impossible to ignore.

She looked toward the stairway and quietly calculated whether she might have a chance to get close to Feng Tian tonight -

perhaps just a brief moment of intimacy would be enough to let her feel the warmth between husband and wife again.

But she knew that recently Feng Tian had been going to bed early all the time, always treating her needs with a careless indifference.

Every time she tried to move closer, he would look exhausted and say perfunctorily,

"I’m tired today. Maybe next time."

Being brushed aside like that filled Jiahui with disappointment, as if she had become something dispensable in her husband’s eyes.

Desire was so real, and yet so helplessly frustrating.

Jiahui’s fingertips slid lightly across the wooden countertop in the kitchen, her thoughts in complete disarray.

The stairway in her field of vision slowly blurred, and she suddenly felt as if she were standing at a fork in the road, not knowing which way to go next.

At that moment, she was a little lost, and more than that, filled with an indescribable emptiness.

What she did not know was that this night would not remain quiet as usual.

The tension and unease hidden within the old house were quietly building toward an approaching change.

"Uncle, have you finished your bath?"

Standing outside the study, Jiahui turned slightly and asked in a low voice.

She knew Feng San almost always finished bathing at this time, so she always checked carefully to avoid running into him in the bathroom.

"Mm."

From the study came Feng San’s usual cold reply, calm and indistinct.

After hearing that answer, Jiahui felt a little more at ease and walked quickly toward the bathroom.

The moment she closed the door, her taut nerves relaxed just a little.

She turned on the light in front of the mirror, and the warm glow spread across her face, reflecting the thirty-eight-year-old woman she had become - a face that was slightly tired, yet still alluring.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she casually traced a hand over her waist, and a trace of pride welled up in her heart without warning.

Jiahui’s figure was still very well maintained. Her graceful curves and tall frame complemented each other beautifully. Even though her breasts were on the smaller side, they were still full and well-proportioned.

The curves of her waist were supple and smooth, still holding the graceful figure Feng Tian had praised so many times back then.

Her skin held a faint sheen under the light, as if every inch of it carried the mature beauty carved out by time.

She had once been proud of that, because she knew Feng Tian liked her like this, liked her body, liked every inch of her skin.

Only now that pride had grown somewhat lonely.

Jiahui sighed. She could not ignore the slightly melancholy eyes reflected in the mirror.

She realized that lately her husband had been touching and caressing her body less and less often.

Every day, Feng Tian would only take a quick shower and then dive straight under the covers, soon falling into deep, heavy breathing, as if he had completely forgotten she existed.

What had once been a world of just the two of them now seemed to have been silently swallowed by trivial routines and Uncle Feng San's arrival, leaving Jiahui feeling as if she had been forgotten in a corner of her marriage.

She slowly untied her nightgown, revealing her snow-white skin.

At that moment, what she longed for was not just physical release, but the feeling of being deeply loved and truly valued.

Yet that longing felt so distant and unreachable in the empty bathroom.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself, but the emptiness and loneliness inside her still spread quietly with every inhale and exhale.

Jiahui felt disheartened, but she forced herself to console herself -

Wasn't this the process every marriage had to go through?

From blazing passion to ordinary companionship, until everything melted into the daily grind of rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea - wasn't all of that only natural?

She told herself she had to learn to accept the plainness, to adapt to this increasingly cold reality.

And yet, deep down, she was still silently praying, still hoping to find some way to satisfy herself.

Maybe even a fleeting burst of pleasure, a trace of being noticed, could free her from this loneliness and helplessness.

Hot water streamed over Jiahui's body; steam swirled inside the shower, gradually blurring her face.

The water flowed gently over her shoulders and neck, brushed across her waist, and ran all the way down.

She closed her eyes, trying to settle her mind and relax into the warmth of the moment.

But in that brief relaxation, the clip from the stand-up show she'd accidentally seen that morning surfaced in her mind again -

That female guest had spoken openly about her sex life, shamelessly sharing intimate details with her partner.

Jiahui had always disliked people talking about sex in public, feeling it was far too direct and explicit.

And yet those candid words were like a pebble tossed into the calm lake of her heart, setting off ripples across its surface.

She couldn't help wondering how long it had been since she last felt that kind of excitement and pleasure?

That feeling of being desired and satisfied had already become a memory far out of reach.

She couldn't help but start wondering why Feng Tian had been paying so little attention to her lately, why he always ignored her desires and needs.

Hot water poured down from above, and Jiahui felt as if every inch of her skin was heating up, blood flowing slowly through her body, warm and tingling against her senses.

In her heart, she quietly vowed to find a way, at any cost, to satisfy this increasingly intense physical craving.

At that moment, standing in the steamy shower with her eyes closed, she let the water wash away the fatigue and frustration of the day.

She let the hot water stream over her bare body, feeling her skin flush faintly under the warm caress as her muscles gradually loosened.

In this moment of quiet, it was as if she had been cut off from the world, with only hot water and damp air surrounding her, letting her indulge in her own private world and briefly savor that healing comfort.

Jiahui picked up the body wash, expertly squeezed out a mound of milky-white foam, and spread it evenly over her smooth skin.

The foam was soft and fine, quickly enveloping her body and releasing a faint fragrance.

She closed her eyes and let her hands roam over her body, gently massaging her breasts, enjoying the slick feel between her palms and skin as the foam slowly burst between her fingers, sending wave after wave of tingling pleasure through her.

Her breathing gradually grew more rapid, and her fingertips slid toward her most sensitive places, savoring that brief spell of self-indulgent bliss and relaxation.

However, just as she was about to sink completely into that moment of self-pleasure, Jiahui suddenly felt that the shower water seemed to change in a subtle way.

Behind her, it was as if a chill had suddenly swept in, making her relaxed body tense at once.

She snapped her eyes open, and the surrounding steam seemed to have thinned a little.

She turned her head and found that the dressing room door -

the door she clearly remembered closing -

was now slightly ajar.

Heat slowly leaked out through that tiny crack, mingling with the steamy haze inside the bathroom and leaving a cool edge in the air.

Jiahui's heart sank. She realized something about this was not right.

Even though the gap wasn't large, on this empty night the fact that it had been left slightly open made her uneasy, as if some eyes were watching her from behind the door.

She carefully stopped massaging herself, took a deep breath, and worked hard to calm down.

Then Jiahui reached out tentatively toward the doorknob, her heartbeat quickening with the motion.

She tightened her grip on the cold knob and yanked hard; the bathroom door slammed open with a bang.

Steam surged out from the doorway, instantly spilling into the bathroom beyond, scattering like shattered mist.

Outside, everything was silent and empty.

Jiahui stood at the doorway, breathing hard, her heart pounding violently in her chest.

She looked back and forth, but the area outside the bathroom was completely empty, not even a single footstep to be heard.

Her eyes swept over the doorway as she tried to find any possible sign, but besides her own wet footprints, there was nothing.

She swallowed lightly, as if all of this were just her own illusion.

Yet the feeling of being watched didn't disappear; instead, it rooted itself even more deeply in her heart.

Jiahui's gaze wandered around the dressing room outside the bathroom, trying to find the source of her unease.

But when her eyes fell on the basket holding her clothes, her heart jolted.

The clothes in the basket were a mess, piled up in a jumbled heap.

Her lingerie and skirt, which she usually folded neatly, were now exposed in disarray, as if someone had carelessly rifled through them.

The edge of her bra hung over the side of the basket, the strap almost dangling onto the floor, the white fabric glaring under the dim light.

A wave of unease and shame rushed up in an instant, and Jiahui couldn't help shivering.

She quickly scooped up the clothes from the basket and held them tightly to her chest.

In that instant, her thoughts were in complete chaos, as if every possibility was flashing through her mind - who had gone through her clothes?

Had she been careless herself, or...

Had someone secretly broken into the dressing room before?

She didn't think further. Anxious beyond measure, she quickly rinsed herself clean with hot water and hurriedly ended the shower.

The warmth of the water sliding over her skin could no longer relax her now; instead, it only made her more sensitive.

Jiahui turned off the water and stood dripping on the shower floor, grabbing a towel to wipe herself off casually, desperate to get out of this unsettling space.

She stepped out of the shower, ready to get dressed, but just then she caught sight of herself in the mirror -

that naked body, fully laid bare in the broad mirror's reflection.

The light fell on her, making every contour of her skin clearly defined.

Jiahui instinctively took a step back. The self in the mirror looked so strange, as if she were peering at another woman.

That feeling of being watched by the mirror made her even more uneasy, and her mind began imagining all kinds of possibilities:

Had someone secretly looked at her through the crack in the door? Had someone taken advantage of her guard being down to spy on her body?

These thoughts made her heartbeat even faster, and her fingers began to tremble slightly.

And yet, beyond disgust, something unaccountably rose from the depths of her body too -

a subtle, complicated feeling, like a faint current running across her skin.

She tried to suppress the sudden thought, but that feeling poised between shame and excitement took root deep inside her and refused to be ignored.

As a married woman, Jiahui knew she shouldn't be having such thoughts; it would only make her more confused and ashamed.

She bit her lower lip, forced herself not to think about it anymore, looked away from her reflected body, and quickly pulled on her clothes.

But inside her heart, that conflicting emotion surged like a tide, sometimes wild and feverish, sometimes cold.

The idea of being spied on made Jiahui feel disgusted. It was an anger and helplessness at being violated, as if her privacy had been stolen and she had been laid bare before someone else's eyes.

Yet the truth she didn't dare face was that, within that disgust, a sliver of barely perceptible comfort had actually risen in her heart -

a subtle feeling born from being noticed.

Someone had taken an interest in her body and felt desire for it, and that suddenly awakened her self-awareness as a woman.

That awareness, even if only for an instant, gave her an inexplicable sense of satisfaction amid the loneliness and loss of her marriage.

But that feeling was extremely complicated.

On the one hand, she despised and even hated that kind of secret spying, feeling it was an insult to her dignity; on the other, the desire to be needed and desired made her unable to completely deny that hidden attention.

She was caught in self-contradiction, half furious with shame, half unable to suppress her vanity and longing.

When Feng Tian got home from work, Jiahui had been tense the entire time.

She didn't know whether she should tell her husband about what had just happened in the bathroom.

She tried to broach the subject, nervously twisting her fingers, hesitating over how to phrase the words.

Feng Tian was taking off his coat as he asked what was wrong, his expression carrying a trace of concern.

"Just now... I was in the bathroom..."

Jiahui struggled to keep her voice steady, but she could feel the heartbeat in her chest growing faster and faster.

She told her husband about the crack in the door, the messy clothes, and the feeling that someone had been watching her; as she spoke, her voice trembled unconsciously, and unease flickered in her eyes.

A trace of confusion and worry flashed across Feng Tian's face. He frowned and, after listening, fell silent for a moment, as if processing what she'd said.

Jiahui held her breath, waiting for her husband's response.

She hoped for an answer from Feng Tian -

comfort, reproach, anything - she needed someone to tell her how to face this complicated feeling and the unrest she couldn't shake off.

"You're overthinking it, aren't you?"

Feng Tian tried to brush away Jiahui's doubts in a light tone, but his voice sounded a little impatient, as if his wife's words were nothing more than an insignificant suspicion.

"But... the door really was left open like that at the time..."

Jiahui still couldn't let it go, her voice thick with obvious unease and confusion.

That open crack, the messy clothes, everything kept replaying in her mind.

Feng Tian only frowned and cut her off.

"Maybe you forgot to close it? You're usually pretty careless, aren't you?"

Jiahui was momentarily speechless. Even though she was certain she hadn't forgotten to close it, she couldn't find the words to argue with her husband.

She didn't want to seem overly paranoid, but the unease in her chest made it impossible for her to ignore.

Seeing his wife fall silent, Feng Tian's tone suddenly turned harsh as he said coldly:

"My uncle would never have that kind of interest in his nephew's wife. It's too much for you to suspect him like that."

There was obvious anger in Feng Tian's voice, as if Jiahui's suspicion were an insult to his uncle, a sign of disrespect toward the elder who had raised him for so many years.

Jiahui instinctively lowered her head. She knew she was touching her husband's rawest nerve.

She didn't want to suspect Feng San either, but the unease inside her simply wouldn't calm down.

"I want to believe that too, but... my underwear was hanging strangely outside the basket. I really didn't leave it like that casually..."

Her voice grew softer and softer. Even as she kept trying to explain, she herself felt a little powerless.

Feng Tian waved a hand and cut her off.

"That's why I'm saying you must be mistaken."

His tone was thick with impatience, and that unhidden coldness seemed to clamp around Jiahui's heart, painful and suffocating.

In that instant, Jiahui felt a deep disappointment, as if a stone had sunk into the bottom of her heart, leaving her unable to say anything more.

She knew very well that her husband had chosen to believe his uncle rather than her.

In the end, Jiahui forced out a bitter smile and looked up at Feng Tian.

"All right. Maybe I really am overthinking it."

She chose silence and didn't ask about it again.

She didn't want to quarrel with her husband over something so vague, and she didn't want to add any more needless tension to an already pressurized family.

But when she turned and walked toward the bedroom, the suspicion in her heart had not faded; if anything, it grew stronger.

She told herself silently to let it go, not to dig any deeper, but the grievance of being ignored and the loss of trust lingered in her heart for a long time and refused to disperse.

(Yes... it must be that I'm overthinking it... how could Uncle possibly be interested in a junior like me...)

Jiahui gave a bitter little smile to herself in silent consolation, trying to use every reason she could think of to dissolve her doubts.

She told herself she must be too sensitive. After all these years, Feng San had never shown the slightest sign of interest in any woman.

Not only that, Jiahui kept using a kind of self-deceptive rationalization in her mind, weaving together enough plausible reasons to reassure herself.

She told herself that someone as rigorous and self-disciplined as Feng San spent every day in his study, immersed in the world of literary papers, thinking only about deep theories and scholarship.

How could a person so devoted to learning possibly entertain any improper thoughts about his nephew's wife?

(Right... someone as high-minded as Uncle would never do something like that...)

She repeated the thought over and over in her mind, trying to suppress every last trace of unease and bury all the doubts and discomfort from that night.

And yet, just when Jiahui thought she had successfully convinced herself, that she had made the unease disappear completely, something that happened a few days later shattered all of her comfort and self-persuasion.

That day, Jiahui went to the mall as usual to shop. After finishing the tedious errands, she came home carrying bag after bag.

She went into the bedroom, set the things down, and prepared to change into something lighter.

However, when she absentmindedly glanced toward the wardrobe, the sight made her movements pause slightly -

she noticed one of the drawers in the wardrobe had been pulled open a crack, and that was the drawer where she kept her underwear.

Jiahui frowned and walked over, slowly pulling the drawer open. But when she looked closely, her heart jolted hard:

the set of white lingerie she liked most was gone!

Jiahui felt a wave of shock and disbelief. She clearly remembered putting it in the drawer after washing it last time, but now that intimate garment had vanished into thin air.

She stared at the drawer, her fingers pressing unconsciously against the wooden edge until her knuckles turned white.

All kinds of guesses swarmed through her mind, but none of them could put her at ease.

In the end, that ominous premonition and harsh reality forced her to accept one fact -

her underwear hadn't disappeared for no reason; someone had secretly taken it.

And the person most likely to have done it was the one she had been carefully avoiding believing could ever do such a thing -

Uncle Feng San.

This time, however, Jiahui didn't choose to tell her husband immediately.

She knew her husband couldn't face that reality, and he didn't want to believe that the uncle he respected so much would do something like this.

Even if she told Feng Tian, it would only lead to more arguing and accusations, and might even make the relationship between husband and wife even more tense and distant.

Things had come to this; the truth was already clear.

Jiahui gave a bitter laugh in her heart and faintly understood that Feng San harbored some unspeakable desire for her.

She thought back on the various clues, thought back on the feeling of being watched that night, and all the doubts and confusion suddenly became clear.

Feng San's behavior troubled her and drew her into deep thought -

how should she face him, and when should she expose this matter?

Or should she endure it in silence and keep up the appearance of family harmony?

Since getting married, Jiahui had deliberately kept a low profile in order to preserve Feng Tian's dignity within the family. She didn't want anything to damage the relationship between her husband and his uncle.

However, Jiahui was not a weak, helpless woman.

In fact, from childhood to adulthood, she had always been someone with a strong inner core and a decisive temperament, with a very strong sense of self-respect and independence in her life.

Thinking of that, Jiahui pressed her lips together, a glint of resolve flashing in her eyes.

She realized she had to deal with this herself -

she couldn't just sit and wait, and she didn't want to become a victim who silently endured it.

She was going to take back her initiative, take back control over her own life.

Jiahui calmed down, and a plan gradually took shape in her mind.

Since Feng San had improper thoughts about her, she would use her own strength to handle this matter.

Maybe it was time to face the problem -

but she would do it her own way.