I was born to perform.
When I discovered that my husband from a marriage of convenience was only cold and aloof on the surface-and insatiable underneath-I helped myself to the feast.
I loved watching still waters ripple endlessly under my touch.
But I seemed to have taken the act a little too far. It wasn’t just in bed that I clung to him. I lost control outside the bedroom too.
One day, when I brought lunch to his office again, I overheard his friend teasing him.
“Who was it that said this was just a business arrangement and you’d get divorced after three months? Now you go home at six thirty sharp every day. Aren’t you sick of it?”
After a few seconds of silence, Qin Xian answered.
“I am.”
I stood outside the door, staring down at the lunchbox in my hands.
So his workday didn’t actually end at ten thirty. It ended at six thirty.
I decided it was time to rein in my urge to perform.
I remained endlessly enthusiastic in bed, but I never initiated another message to him.
On the day our contract expired, I cheerfully handed him the divorce papers. Qin Xian’s eyes instantly darkened.
“All this time, did you see me as your husband-or as a vibrator?”
