Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Don’t think I don’t know. You young girls all like older guys.”

“Nonsense. You’re just being shy.”

“Girl, you’re doomed. I know you’re trying to suppress your feelings for me, but you’re actually in too deep already, aren’t you? *Smirks.*”

“You’re the duck-head! I don’t like you at all, hmph.”

“Girl, your lively and cute personality reminds me of my first love. Back in the day…”

I skipped over several paragraphs of his bragging.

After finishing clipping my toenails, I scrolled past his long-winded essay and replied:

“Wow, Uncle is so good at making money. Your wife must be so happy.”

He replied, “Hmph, she’s a woman who doesn’t know how to appreciate what she has. These past few days, she’s been running to the beauty salon every single day, buying bags and bags of cosmetics. She even insists they were gifts and didn’t cost a cent!”

Over the last few days, the boss lady had given Mrs. Duck some kind of skin treatment. She told her that for it to be effective, she had to abstain from sex.

Meanwhile, Mr. Duck had been so riled up by my flirting that he had a fire in his gut with nowhere to vent it.

I decided to be a good person and finish what I started by adding fuel to the flames.

Me: “Uncle works so hard to earn money away from home, yet your wife doesn’t even know how to care for you…”

Just as Mrs. Duck returned home, I soon heard a loud crash.

Glass bottles and jars shattered across the floor.

“What the hell is wrong with you, quack?!”

“This is all just a scam for people with more money than brains! You’re such a spendthrift!”

“What do you mean a scam? These are all big brands! Do you even know anything about skincare? Quack!”

“Then do you know anything about me? I work so hard out there to make money…”

“These didn’t cost any money! They were gifts! Quack!”

“Why would anyone give you things for no reason? Was it a man or a woman?”

“A woman! A woman! Oh, so only your work is hard? Is my work taking care of the kid not hard? Your son doesn’t study at all; all he does is play Honor of Kings every day, quack!”

“That’s because all you care about is running to that beauty salon! You’re not allowed to go anymore!”

“A woman has to care about her beauty! Who are you to tell me I can’t go? Quack!”

“Are we even going to stay together or what?”

“We’re done! Quack!”

Mrs. Duck slammed the door and left.

She ran straight to the boss lady to cry and vent.

The boss lady had her video call open, broadcasting the whole thing to me.

“If a man truly loves you, he’ll pamper you like a daughter. He’s clearly had a change of heart.”

“Right? You think so too, don’t you? Quack!” Mrs. Duck said, her eyes welling with tears.

“If he loves you, why is he unwilling to spend money on you? Don’t listen to what a man says; look at what he does,” the boss lady said, leading her on.

Mrs. Duck looked thoughtful.

“He’s treating you like this now. Who knows what he’ll be like when you’re old?” The boss lady took Mrs. Duck’s hand. “That’s why we women must be strong on our own. Look at how beautiful you are. If he doesn’t know how to cherish you, there are plenty of others who will.”

Mrs. Duck said, “True, quack. True. When I was young, I had so many pursuers!”

The boss lady said, “Plenty of people like you now, too. I posted your photo on my social feed a few days ago, and so many young guys asked for your WeChat. I told them you were married and didn’t give it to them, and they all practically cried!”

The boss lady opened her phone, showed her a carefully crafted social media post, and then pulled a bouquet of flowers from under the front desk. “One of those young men owns eight companies and makes tens of millions a year. He’s seen all kinds of women, but he was completely captivated by you. Even knowing you’re married, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He insisted I give these flowers to you; he just wants to be friends.”

Mrs. Duck stroked the bouquet, hesitating.

The boss lady said, “Sister, there’s no need to give up a whole forest for one rotten man. Even if you don’t want to date him, just take the flowers. At least it’ll give your husband a sense of crisis so he treats you better in the future.”

Mrs. Duck took the bouquet, her cheeks flushing. “Is that guy handsome? How tall is he? Quack, quack, quack.”

“Handsome! He looks a lot like Daniel Wu,” the boss lady said. “Looking at him, I’d guess he’s about 175 centimeters.”

“He’s 180,” I whispered a reminder.

“If he stands on his tiptoes, he might reach 177,” the boss lady corrected righteously.