Zheng Xuemei Invites Me to Dinner for the First Time, and I Push Her Interest to 69 with Casual Chat

The next day at the office, I ran into Zheng Xuemei again in the break room.

This time it was a real coincidence. I hadn’t timed it on purpose.

It was just that after last night, when I’d fucked Wang Youmin until she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, I hadn’t slept very well either. My head was full of Zheng Xuemei’s heavy ass, the kind of ass that looked like it had been trapped tight by a hip-hugging skirt.

A little after three in the afternoon, after two straight meetings that left my mouth dry and tasteless, I finally got up and went to the break room for a cup of hot water to wake myself up.

The moment I pushed open the door, I saw her standing at the sink, touching up her lipstick in the mirror.

It was a deep maroon shade, and on her lips, against her fair, delicate skin, it gave off the mature allure of a woman who looked restrained on the surface but quietly seductive underneath.

In the mirror, the lines of her side profile were soft, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes didn’t make her look old at all. If anything, they added a sensual richness that only life could have given her.

When she turned slightly to reach for the lipstick, the tight hip-hugging skirt wrapped her unusually full, luscious ass in full view.

Her two huge, round globes were squeezed so tightly by the skirt that the flesh was almost spilling over the hem, forming an exaggerated heart-shaped curve that was impossible to ignore yet undeniably meaty.

As she shifted a little, that heavy ass gave a soft sway, sending a tempting ripple through the flesh. The flesh-colored stockings left faint impressions under the curve of her hips, making the whole thing look soft, springy, heavy, and lifted.

I froze for a second, then quickly looked away and pretended I hadn’t seen anything, walking over to the dispenser to get some hot water.

But my eyes kept drifting back on their own.

Dangerous images kept forcing themselves into my head: if I walked up behind her right now, wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressed her hard against the sink, then used both hands to hike up that tight skirt and strip away the stockings that covered her perfect ass... I’d start by kneading those two soft, springy, heavy mounds of flesh, sinking my fingers deep into them, then bunch the whole skirt up to her waist and drive straight in from behind, slamming hard into her wet, tight pussy...

"Here... and here..." Zheng Xuemei’s voice yanked me back to reality. She turned slightly and pointed to two lines of data on the document.

Because of the way she’d turned, our shoulders were almost completely pressed together.

I could clearly feel the softness and warmth of her shoulder, and the warm breath from her voice brushed lightly against my neck, making it itch in a way that was almost unbearable.

Mixed with a faint perfume and the scent of a mature woman’s body, it slipped right into my nose at close range.

"...What do you think?" she asked, turning her head toward me. Her face was less than twenty centimeters away.

I could make out the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and the slight widening of her pupils from being so close.

There was a trace of expectation and trust in those eyes, and my heartbeat sped up without my meaning it to.

I forced down the filthy fire in my chest, focused on the document for a while, and gave her my revision suggestions.

She listened very seriously, nodding from time to time, but her shoulder never left mine.

That touch, pressed that closely together, was both teasing and restrained, and it felt like the temperature in the air had risen several degrees.

After helping her finish the edits, I straightened up.

She straightened too and turned to face me.

We stood face-to-face, so close that her full breasts rose and fell softly with each breath, almost brushing my chest.

That tempting woman’s scent grew even clearer.

"Thanks, Chen Mo," she said in a low voice, her tone softer than usual. "I keep bothering you every time."

"It’s no trouble," I said with a smile, forcing my voice to sound calm. "This is exactly the kind of thing I’m good at."

She looked at me, something complicated flickering in her eyes, as if she had more to say, but in the end she only nodded lightly.

"You really helped me out today... I’ll treat you to dinner another day."

Something stirred inside me, but I didn’t show it too clearly. I just nodded and said, "Sure."

As I left the finance department, I quietly glanced at the number over her head:

[73].

Four points. I had naturally earned another four-point increase.

That evening, when I told Wang Youmin about it, she happened to be in the kitchen cutting fruit. The knife in her hand never stopped, and after hearing me out, she said lightly:

"So Zheng Xuemei likes you because you talk straight and don’t drag things out?"

"Probably."

"That’s exactly the same reason I liked you back then," she said, pushing a piece of cold, juicy watermelon in front of me. A faint smile curved her lips. "You’ve got your flaws, and some of them are really asking to be hit, but one thing counts as a strength: you don’t bullshit. When something needs to be acknowledged, you acknowledge it; when something shouldn’t be given up, you don’t give an inch. That makes some women feel at ease."

"Some women," I repeated, smiling at her. "Including you?"

"Obviously," she rolled her eyes. "If I didn’t feel at ease, why would I have married you? For the fun of it?"

After saying that, she set the knife down on the cutting board, picked up the plate of fruit, and walked off, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen with a warm feeling rising in my chest that I couldn’t quite name.

Sometimes Wang Youmin talked like that. She wasn’t good at saying soft, sentimental things, but every now and then she’d let one line slip out, and it would make you feel like this life had been worth it.

Zheng Xuemei took the initiative to ask me out for dinner on Friday of the second week.

That morning, a little after nine, I was sitting at my desk revising a proposal when my phone suddenly vibrated.

It was Zheng Xuemei on WeChat:

"Chen Mo, are you free at noon on Friday? I want to go back to that place from last time for garlic shrimp. Do you have time to come with me?"

I stared at the message for a full three seconds, and my heartbeat clearly sped up. Almost at the same time, the system popped up a prompt:

[Detected a mature woman taking the initiative to invite the host out. Reward: 20 points. Current remaining points: 95.]

Ninety-five points.

Counting the points I’d earned from those casual conversations in the break room, plus the climax reward Wang Youmin had given me the night she’d fucked me until I saw stars, I was finally no longer just a pure consumer of points.

I was still a long way from the 500 points needed to level up to LV2, but at least I could see the hope of a positive cycle.

I took a deep breath and tried to make my reply sound natural: [I’m free. Shall we meet downstairs at noon?]

She replied almost instantly: [Okay. Noon. Downstairs.]

Just a few words, but they somehow made me feel that the meaning of this meal was already completely different from last time.

Before I left that morning, I told Wang Youmin about it.

She was standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth, her hair loosely tied up, wearing the loose pale pink house dress I liked most, the hem revealing two long, fair legs.

I leaned against the doorframe and told her briefly that Zheng Xuemei had messaged me.

Wang Youmin’s brushing stopped noticeably. She rinsed her mouth, put the toothbrush back in the cup, and repeated softly to herself in the mirror:

"She took the initiative to ask you out."

"Yeah," I said with a nod.

"What’s her current favorability?"

"Before I left this morning, I glanced at it. Seventy-six."

Wang Youmin was silent for four or five seconds, then turned around and looked at me seriously.

Her eyes held caution, a little jealousy, and that strange kind of interest I was becoming more and more familiar with. It was like she was observing an interesting experiment, and I was the subject she trusted most.

"Pay attention today," she said, reaching out to help straighten my collar. Her voice was calm, but it carried weight. "Don’t make it look like you’re doing it on purpose."

"What counts as on purpose?"

"Don’t put on that face that says, 'I know you like me, so I’m here on a date,'" she said, wiping her mouth with a towel and walking out of the bathroom, her voice full of warning. "That kind of man is the most annoying, and the easiest to disgust a woman. Treat it like a normal coworker meal. Talk about whatever you should talk about. Don’t act aloof, and don’t deliberately try to seem overly considerate and thoughtful. Be natural."

I nodded seriously. "I understand. Honey, you really know this stuff."

"I minored in social psychology in the English department too," she said with a smile. When she reached the door, she suddenly looked back, narrowed her eyes slightly, and added, "When you get home tonight, give me a full report. Don’t leave out a single thing. What she wore today, what she said, how her eyes looked... everything."

After saying that, she deliberately poked my chest with a finger. The force wasn’t strong, but it carried her usual dominance and intimacy.

I grabbed her wrist, gently pulled her into my arms, and kissed her on the forehead. "Got it, my queen. I promise to report everything truthfully."

Wang Youmin’s ears turned slightly red from the kiss, but she still looked up at me and lowered her voice a little:

"Chen Mo..."

"Yeah?"

She hesitated for two seconds, lightly pinched the hem of my shirt with her slender fingers, and in the end only said softly:

"Go. Have fun, but remember your own bottom line."

In that moment, the familiar mix of emotions rose in my heart again: guilt, gratitude, and the steady reassurance of being completely trusted by her.

I lowered my head and kissed her lips, with a hint of reassurance in it. "I know what I’m doing. Tonight, if you want me to tell you every detail, I’ll tell you every detail."

Wang Youmin gave a snort and pushed me away, but when she turned, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

This was my second meal with Zheng Xuemei at that restaurant, but the atmosphere was completely different from the first time.

The first time, she’d been thanking me for helping her, and there had still been a bit of formal politeness in it.

This time, she was the one who had taken the initiative to message me and ask me out.

That kind of faint, mature-woman initiative was like a current beneath still water. One touch was enough to send ripples through it, making me both restless and nervous.

She had made a point of changing her look today. She wasn’t wearing the crisp, cool business suit she wore at the office. Instead, she wore a fitted dark burgundy knit dress.

The waist of the dress was cut beautifully, making her heavy, full breasts stand out even more, the soft fabric rising and falling lightly with her breathing.

What drew the eye the most, though, was still the huge, fat ass tightly wrapped beneath the hem of the dress. The knit clung to her rich, rounded curves like a second skin, and her two round, lifted, heavy globes swayed slightly left and right as she walked, rolling out flexible waves of flesh. Every step carried the meat and weight of a mature woman in a way that made it almost impossible to look away.

Her hair was down too, which made her seem less sharp than she did at the office and a little warmer and more casual.

Honestly, it was hard to connect this version of her with the finance manager in the conference room who spoke with such precision and tore into budget issues without mercy.

Right now, she looked more like a woman who had finally managed to step away from the daily clutter for a little while and was willing to spend some effort on herself.

We still sat in the same window seat as last time.

When ordering, she got the garlic shrimp and also ordered a steamed fish, saying she hadn’t noticed the fish last time and wanted to try it today.

I smiled and told her the fish here was actually just average, and the house specialty was really the shrimp.

She smiled faintly. "Then shrimp will be the main dish, and fish can be secondary... actually, I mainly wanted to get out and catch a little air today."

Once the dishes started coming out one by one, the conversation became much deeper than last time.

She first asked me why I’d chosen to do advertising copywriting. After I answered honestly, she propped her chin in her hand and listened, then shook her head softly.

"Then how many people do you think your writing has truly persuaded?"

"Does persuading a client to approve a proposal count?"

"That doesn’t count," she said after taking a small sip of red wine, her eyes serious with a trace of fatigue. "The client approved it because of budget and resources, not because your words moved them."

I thought about it and answered honestly: "Then the only person I’ve really persuaded is probably my wife. She was persuaded by a letter I wrote and married me."

Zheng Xuemei froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

It was a very genuine laugh, the kind you couldn’t hide in time.

She covered her mouth with her hand, the corners of her eyes curving beautifully, and the fine lines at the edges of her eyes looked especially gentle in her smile.

"You wrote love letters?"

"Back in college," I said with a smile. "Nothing fancy. I just wrote down what I thought was good about her, then told her I wanted to be with her."

"And she agreed?"

"She said, 'You write pretty directly. Let me think about it.' A week later, she said yes."

Zheng Xuemei rested her chin in her hand and looked at me, her eyes growing softer and more curious. After a moment of silence, she suddenly said quietly:

"She chose you. She had good taste."

"I think so too," I said with a self-deprecating smile. "She says her taste is unusual, and normal people wouldn’t like this face of mine."

Zheng Xuemei stared at my face for a full two seconds, then lowered her head, picked up a shrimp, and said in a voice so soft it was almost like she was talking to herself:

"Normal people... maybe not."

As soon as she said it, she seemed to realize something herself. Her chopsticks paused slightly in midair, and a faint red crept up to her ears. But she quickly went back to peeling the shrimp and didn’t say anything else.

I glanced at the number over her head: [84].

I didn’t answer and didn’t show anything unusual. I just lowered my head, took a sip of soup, and acted like I hadn’t heard a thing, naturally steering the conversation in another direction.

This was something Wang Youmin had taught me: don’t put on airs.

Mature women hated men who snapped to attention the moment they heard even the slightest hint.

Halfway through the meal, her mood had clearly relaxed, and she took the initiative to talk about her own life.

"Actually... I haven’t eaten out like this in a long time," she said, lightly moving the fish on her plate with a fork, her voice low and soft. "When my husband was still in the city, we’d sometimes come out together on weekends. Later, his projects kept piling up, and it happened less and less... Now it’s basically just phone calls and WeChat. Sometimes I even feel like being married and not being married aren’t all that different."

She gave a self-mocking smile. "The mortgage, my parents’ health, the kids’ education... everything has to be carried by me alone. And at work it’s audits, budgets, and reports every day, so busy I feel dizzy. Sometimes it’s really exhausting."

I listened quietly and didn’t offer empty comfort. I just nodded and said, "It really isn’t easy for Sister Zheng to handle all that alone."

She looked up at me, a complicated expression in her eyes. "Chen Mo, you and your wife... are you the kind of couple who can discuss things with each other?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "If something comes up, we basically talk it through."

"That’s nice." She lowered her head and smiled, her voice much softer. "I really envy that."

At that moment, I could clearly feel the loneliness hidden deep in her eyes.

It wasn’t an act. It was the fatigue and longing that naturally surfaced after a thirty-nine-year-old woman had walked too long by herself through a marriage that was slowly going cold.

After the meal, we walked back to the company together.

On the way, she suddenly asked what my plans were for the afternoon. I said I needed to revise a proposal, and she said she had a pile of reports to handle too, since next month’s budget was about to be submitted.

As we talked, she suddenly mentioned something:

"Thanks to you for helping with this audit. Otherwise, I really might have gotten chewed out by my boss... There are still people in the company saying I brought in outside help."

I smiled. "Let them say what they want. If the data checks out and the audit passes, that’s what matters."

She glanced at me and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.

When we reached the elevator, we parted ways. She pressed the button for the finance floor; I pressed the one for planning. Just as the doors were about to close, she suddenly looked up at me and said softly:

"Chen Mo, you’re... different from how you seem when I see you at the office."

"How so?"

"At the office," she thought for a moment, her gaze softening noticeably, "you seem a little cold, hard to get close to. Outside... you’re fine. Pretty comfortable to be around."

As the elevator doors slowly closed, I stood alone in the hallway and unconsciously touched my face.

Cold.

What Wang Youmin had said back then was that I had a "face that was asking to be hit." Zheng Xuemei’s wording was "cold." The meaning was almost the same, but it gave me a strange kind of warmth inside.

At the very least, two people were willing to look past that layer of "cold" and see me underneath it.

That was the interesting thing about life, and it was also why I treasured Wang Youmin so much. When the whole world thought I was annoying, cold, and hard to deal with, she was the first one who came over and thought I was pretty interesting.

That night, when I told Wang Youmin all of this, she was washing dishes with her back to me, the water running loudly.

After I finished, she turned off the water, put the bowl away in the cabinet, turned around, and wiped her hands, her eyes carrying a hint of amusement.

"She said, 'normal people maybe not'?"

"Yeah."

"And then you didn’t respond?"

"No, I changed the subject."

Wang Youmin stared at me for three seconds and said, "Good call."

Then she folded the dish towel neatly and put it back on the rack, sat down on the sofa with her legs casually crossed, and picked up her phone.

"What’s her favorability now?"

"When we finished dinner and walked back to the company, it was 84. Before the elevator, when she said that line, I didn’t get a chance to check it. I’m guessing it’s a little higher than 84."

"No need to guess," Wang Youmin said calmly. "You could tell she got flustered after she said it."

"Yeah, she paused for a second, but then she kept peeling the shrimp."

"That’s right," Wang Youmin said, crossing her legs into a more comfortable position. "Mature women aren’t like young girls. They don’t show their emotions too obviously. But once they do show them, even if it’s only a line or a gesture, it’s real. When she said 'normal people maybe not,' she really meant you weren’t bad. She wasn’t just being polite."

I walked over, sat beside her, and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Honey, the way you analyze this stuff makes me feel like you’re more invested than I am."

Wang Youmin flipped through her phone and said in an even tone, with a trace of amusement, "I studied languages. I’m interested in how people express themselves. What’s wrong with that?"

"Nothing," I said, leaning back into the sofa with a smile. "It just feels kind of amazing that you’re helping me analyze another woman’s interest in me and doing it so thoroughly."

"What’s so amazing about that?" She gave me a light shove with her shoulder, meaning for me to shut up, but she didn’t push away my hand. "I know you, so I know what kind of women would be drawn to a man like you, and what kind of reactions they’d have once they were drawn in. That’s called knowing yourself and knowing your opponent. Got it?"

"Knowing yourself and knowing your opponent," I repeated, smiling as I asked, "So what you mean is that you’re the 'yourself' part?"

Wang Youmin didn’t answer. She just gave me another shove with her shoulder.

I smiled and pulled her gently into my arms. The two of us leaned there on the sofa, she scrolling on her phone while I stared at the ceiling. Outside, the occasional sound of cars drifted by. It was quiet. It was steady.

I could almost feel the warmth radiating off that huge ass.

If I took just one more step forward, I’d be able to press right against it.

My throat bobbed as I swallowed hard, my eyes fixed on the two plush cheeks trembling faintly with her slightest movement. Dangerous images kept flashing through my head: coming up behind her, gathering her skirt all the way to her waist, gripping that heavy ass with both hands and prying it apart, then driving my hard cock all the way in and slamming it into her hot, tight cunt...

"Here... and here..." Zheng Xuemei’s voice yanked me back to reality. She turned slightly and pointed at two lines on the document.

Because of the way she shifted, our shoulders were almost fully pressed together.

I could clearly feel the softness and warmth of her shoulder, and the breath from her mouth as she spoke brushed lightly against my neck, making it itch.

The faint scent of perfume mixed with the body odor of a mature woman drifted into my nose at close range.

"...What do you think?" she asked, turning to look at me. Her face was less than twenty centimeters from mine.

I could make out the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and her pupils were slightly enlarged from being so close.

There was a hint of expectation and trust in her eyes, and my heartbeat sped up without my permission.

I forced the fire in my head down, studied the file for a moment, and gave my revision suggestions.

She listened very carefully, nodding from time to time, but her shoulder never left mine.

That close, restrained touch was both intimate and self-controlled, as if the temperature in the air had risen several degrees.

After helping her finish the revisions, I straightened up.

She followed suit and turned to face me.

We stood face to face at very close range, and the two full mounds on her chest rose and fell softly with her breathing, almost touching my own chest.

That alluring womanly scent became even clearer.

"Thank you, Chen Mo," she said softly, her voice gentler than usual. "I keep troubling you every time."

"It’s nothing," I said with a smile, trying to keep my voice calm. "I’m good at this sort of thing."

She looked at me, a complicated emotion flickering in her eyes, as if there was something she wanted to say, but in the end she only gave a slight nod.

"You really helped me a lot today... I’ll treat you to dinner another day."

I felt a slight stir in my chest, but I didn’t show it. I just nodded and said, "Okay."

When I left the finance department, I secretly glanced at the number above her head:

【 73】.

Four points. I’d naturally earned a four-point bump.

That evening, when I told Wang Youmin about it, she happened to be in the kitchen cutting fruit. The knife never stopped moving as she listened, then said casually,

"So Zheng Xuemei likes you because you speak directly and don’t drag things out?"

"Probably."

"That’s exactly why I used to like you too," she said, pushing a slice of cool, sweet watermelon toward me, a faint smile on her lips. "You really do have one habit that deserves a beating, but one thing counts as a strength: you don’t talk nonsense. You own what needs owning, and you never back down where you shouldn’t. That’s the kind of thing that makes certain women feel secure."

"Certain women," I repeated, smiling at her. "Including you?"

"Obviously," she shot me a look. "If I didn’t feel secure, why would I marry you? For the perks?"

After saying that, she set the knife down on the cutting board, picked up the plate of fruit, and walked off, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen with a warmth I couldn’t quite put into words rising in my chest.

Sometimes Wang Youmin talked like that. She wasn’t very good at saying soft, sugary things, but every now and then one sentence from her could make you feel like your whole life had been worth it.

Zheng Xuemei taking the initiative to ask me out to dinner happened on the Friday of the second week.

That morning, a little after nine, I was sitting at my desk revising a proposal when my phone suddenly buzzed.

It was Zheng Xuemei on WeChat:

"Chen Mo, are you free Friday at noon? I want to go back to the place we ate last time and have the garlic shrimp again. Do you have time to come with me?"

I stared at the message for a full three seconds, my heartbeat clearly speeding up. Almost at the same time, the system popped up a prompt:

【Detected a mature woman taking the initiative to ask the host out, reward 20 points. Current remaining points: 95.】

Ninety-five points.

Added to the points I’d earned from the natural conversations in the break room over the past few times, plus the climax reward from Wang Youmin riding me until my eyes rolled back that night, I was finally no longer just a pure consumer.

I was still a long way from the 500 points needed to reach LV2, but at least I could see the hope of a positive cycle.

I took a deep breath and tried to make my reply sound natural: [I’m free. See you downstairs at twelve?]

She replied almost instantly: [Okay. Twelve o’clock, downstairs.]

Just a few words, but for some reason they made me feel that this meal meant something very different from the last one.

Before I left home that morning, I told Wang Youmin about it.

She was standing in the bathroom brushing her teeth, her hair casually tied up, wearing my favorite loose light-pink nightdress, with her long, pale legs exposed beneath the hem.

I leaned against the doorframe and told her briefly that Zheng Xuemei had messaged me.

Wang Youmin’s brushing motion clearly paused. She rinsed her mouth, put the toothbrush back in the cup, and repeated softly to her reflection,

"She took the initiative to ask you to dinner."

"Yeah," I said, nodding.

"How high is her affection now?"

"I checked before I left this morning, 76."

Wang Youmin was silent for four or five seconds, then turned around and looked at me seriously.

There was caution and a trace of jealousy in her eyes, but also that strange interest I’d become more and more familiar with lately, like she was observing an interesting experiment and I was the test subject she trusted most.

"Be careful today," she said, reaching out to straighten my collar, her voice calm but weighted. "Don’t let people think you’re doing it on purpose."

"What counts as on purpose?"

"I mean, don’t act like, 'I know you like me, so I’m here on a date,'" she said, wiping her mouth with a towel as she walked out of the bathroom. Her tone carried obvious warning. "That kind of man is the most annoying, and he’s the easiest to make a woman dislike him. Just treat it like a normal meal with a coworker. Talk about whatever comes up, don’t act stiff, and don’t deliberately try to look extra considerate and reliable. Be natural."

I nodded earnestly. "I get it. Babe, you really do understand this stuff."

"I also minored in social psychology when I was in the English department," she said with a smile. She reached the door, then suddenly looked back, her eyes narrowing slightly as she added, "When you come home tonight, give me a detailed report. Don’t leave out a single thing. What she wore today, what she said, how her eyes looked... all of it."

After that, she deliberately poked my chest with one finger. The force wasn’t heavy, but it carried her trademark dominance and intimacy.

I grabbed her wrist at once, pulled her gently into my arms, and lowered my head to kiss her forehead. "Got it, Your Majesty. I’ll report everything exactly as it happened."

Wang Youmin’s ears turned a little red from the kiss, but she still looked up at me and lowered her voice.

"Chen Mo..."

"Mm?"

She paused for two seconds, lightly pinching the hem of my shirt with her long fingers, and in the end she only said softly,

"Go on. Have fun, but remember your own bottom line."

At that moment, that familiar tangle of emotions rose in my chest again: guilt, gratitude, and the steady comfort of being completely trusted by her, all mixed together.

I bent down and kissed her lips, with a little reassurance in it. "I know what I’m doing. When I get home tonight, however detailed you want the story, I’ll tell you that detailed."

Wang Youmin snorted and pushed me away, but as she turned around, the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

This was my second meal with Zheng Xuemei at that restaurant, but the atmosphere was completely different from the first time.

The first time she had treated me to dinner as a thank-you, and it still carried a bit of polite businesslike formality.

This time, she had been the one to message me and make the invitation.

That almost imperceptible initiative from a mature woman was like an undercurrent beneath a calm surface. A light touch was enough to stir ripples, making a person both itchy and tense.

She had deliberately changed her look today. Instead of the sharp, cool professional suit she wore at the company, she was in a fitted dark wine-red knit dress.

The waist was cinched beautifully, making her full, heavy chest look even more prominent, the soft fabric rising and falling lightly with her breathing.

What drew the eye most, though, was still the pair of large, tightly wrapped ass cheeks beneath the hem of the dress. The knit fabric clung to her rich curves like a second skin, and those round, lifted, heavy cheeks swayed gently left and right as she walked, sending out elastic waves of motion. Every step carried the fleshiness and weight unique to a mature woman, making it almost impossible to look away.

She had let her hair down too, which made her look less sharp than she did at work and a little softer and more casual.

Honestly, dressed like this, it was hard to connect her with the finance manager in the conference room who spoke in perfect, measured tones and never hesitated to point out budget problems.

Right now, she looked more like a woman who had finally stepped out of the daily grind for a moment and was willing to put a little thought into herself.

We still sat in the same window seat as last time.

When we ordered, she chose garlic shrimp and also ordered a steamed fish, saying she hadn’t paid attention to the fish last time and wanted to try it today.

I smiled and told her the fish here was actually just average; the shrimp was the signature dish.

She smiled faintly. "Then we’ll focus on the shrimp and let the fish play second fiddle... Actually, I just wanted to get out and breathe a little today."

After the dishes started coming out, the conversation clearly went much deeper than last time.

She first asked why I had originally chosen to do advertising copywriting. After I answered honestly, she rested her chin in her hand, listened through to the end, and gently shook her head.

"Then how many people do you think your writing has actually convinced?"

"Does convincing clients to approve a proposal count?"

"That doesn’t count," she said after taking a small sip of red wine, her gaze serious yet carrying a trace of fatigue. "The clients approved it because of budget and resources, not because your words moved them."

I thought about it and said honestly, "Then the only person I’ve really convinced is probably my wife. I wrote her a letter that convinced her to marry me."

Zheng Xuemei froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

It was a sincere laugh, the kind you can’t hide in time.

She covered her mouth with her hand, the corners of her eyes curving beautifully, the fine lines at the edge of her eyes looking especially gentle in her smile.

"You write love letters too?"

"I wrote them in college," I said with a smile. "Nothing fancy. I just wrote down what I thought was good about her, then told her I wanted to be with her."

"And she agreed?"

"She said, 'You write pretty directly. I’ll think about it.' A week later, she said yes."

Zheng Xuemei rested her chin in her hand and looked at me, her eyes softening with curiosity. After a moment, she suddenly said quietly,

"She chose you. She has good taste."

"I think so too," I said with a self-deprecating smile. "She said her tastes were unusual, and ordinary people wouldn’t like my face."

Zheng Xuemei stared at my face for a full two seconds, then lowered her head, picked up a shrimp, and said in a voice so soft it almost sounded like she was talking to herself,

"Ordinary people... maybe not."

The moment she said it, she seemed to realize something herself. Her chopsticks paused slightly in midair, and a light flush rose to her ears. But she quickly went back to peeling the shrimp and didn’t say anything else.

I glanced at the number above her head: 【 84】.

I didn’t answer and didn’t show any unusual reaction. I just lowered my head, took a sip of soup, and naturally shifted the topic elsewhere as if I hadn’t heard a thing.

That was something Wang Youmin had taught me: don’t act stiff.

A mature woman hates men who instantly start climbing the pole the second they catch an implication.

Halfway through the meal, her mood had clearly relaxed, and she started talking about herself on her own.

"Actually... I haven’t gone out to eat like this in a long time," she said, lightly nudging the fish on her plate with her fork, her voice low and soft. "Back when my husband was still in town, we’d occasionally go out together on weekends. But later his projects kept piling up, and it happened less and less... Now it’s basically just phone calls and WeChat. Sometimes I even feel like being married or not being married makes no real difference."

She gave a self-mocking smile. "Mortgage payments, my parents’ health, the kids’ education... everything has to be carried alone. Then at the company it’s audits, budgets, and reports every single day, busy until my head spins. Sometimes it really is exhausting."

I listened quietly and didn’t offer empty comfort. I just nodded and said, "It really isn’t easy for you, Zheng-jie."

She looked up at me, her eyes carrying a complicated expression. "Chen Mo, are you and your wife... the kind of couple who can really talk things through?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "If something comes up, we basically tell each other."

"That’s good." She lowered her head and smiled, her voice turning much softer. "Really good. I’m honestly jealous."

At that moment, I could clearly feel the loneliness she had hidden so deeply in her eyes.

It wasn’t an act. It was the fatigue and longing that come naturally after a thirty-nine-year-old woman has walked too long alone through a marriage that has gradually gone cold.

After dinner, we walked back toward the company together.

On the way she suddenly asked what I had planned for the afternoon. I said I needed to revise the proposal, and she said she still had a stack of reports to handle, because next month’s budget had to be submitted soon.

As we talked, she mentioned casually,

"This audit really only worked out because of your help. Otherwise I probably would’ve gotten chewed out by my superiors... There are even people in the company saying I brought in outside help."

I smiled. "Let them talk. If the numbers add up and the audit passes, that’s what matters."

She turned her head and looked at me, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

When we reached the elevator lobby, we split up. She pressed the finance floor, I pressed the planning floor. Just before the doors closed, she suddenly looked up at me and said softly,

"Chen Mo, you... aren’t quite the same as you seem when you’re in the company."

"How am I different?"

"At work," she thought for a moment, her gaze turning much gentler, "you seem a bit cold, not easy to approach. Outside... it’s better. Pretty comfortable."

As the elevator doors slowly shut, I stood alone in the hallway and subconsciously touched my face.

Cold-looking.

What Wang Youmin had originally said was that I had a "face that begged for a beating," while Zheng Xuemei described it as "looking cold." The meaning was almost the same, yet it still gave me a strange warmth in my chest.

At least two people were willing to walk through that layer of "cold" and see the me underneath.

That was what made life interesting, and it was also why I treasured Wang Youmin so much: when the whole world thought I looked like trouble, cold, and hard to get along with, she was the first person to come over and think I was kind of interesting.

When I told Wang Youmin all this that night, she was washing dishes with her back to me, the water running loudly.

After I finished, she turned off the water, put the bowls into the cabinet, turned around, wiped her hands, and looked at me with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"She said 'ordinary people maybe not'?"

"Yeah."

"And you didn’t answer?"

"No, I changed the subject."

Wang Youmin stared at me for three seconds and said, "Good move."

Then she folded the towel she’d used to dry her hands and put it back on the rack. She sat down on the sofa with her legs naturally crossed, picked up her phone, and asked,

"So, the affection score?"

"When we finished dinner and walked back to the company, it was 84. Before she got in the elevator and said that line, I didn’t have time to check, but I’m guessing it was a little higher than 84."

"No need to guess," Wang Youmin said flatly. "You can tell she panicked after she said it."

"Yeah, she paused for a moment, but then she went right back to peeling shrimp."

"Exactly," Wang Youmin said, settling her legs more comfortably. "Mature women are different from young girls. They won’t let their emotions show too much, but once they do, even if it’s just one sentence or one move, it’s real. When she said 'ordinary people maybe not,' she genuinely thought you weren’t bad. That wasn’t just politeness."

I walked over and sat beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Babe, the look on your face while you analyze this makes it seem like you’re even more invested than I am."

Wang Youmin glanced at her phone, her tone calm but touched with a smile.

"I studied languages. I’m interested in the way people express themselves. What’s the problem with that?"

"No problem," I said with a smile, leaning back into the sofa. "It just feels kind of amazing that you’re helping me analyze another woman’s interest in me, and doing it so thoroughly."

"What’s so amazing about that?" She gave me a light push with her shoulder, telling me to cut the crap, but she didn’t push my hand away. "I know you, so I know what kind of woman would be attracted to a guy like you, and what they’d do once they’re attracted. That’s called knowing both yourself and your enemy, understand?"

"Knowing both yourself and your enemy," I repeated, smiling as I asked, "so what you’re saying is you’re the 'know yourself' part?"

Wang Youmin didn’t answer. She just bumped me with her shoulder again.

I laughed and pulled her gently into my arms. The two of us just leaned there on the sofa like that, her scrolling on her phone while I stared at the ceiling. Occasionally there was the sound of cars passing outside. It was quiet, and solid, and safe.