Returning - Chapter 135
Chapter 135: Sharing the Same Boat
Shang Lu had always known that he and Zhao Yu could have no possible future.
It had nothing to do with love. It was simply that he understood his situation within the Shang family better than anyone.
Keeping half his life was already the best he could hope for. As for anything else, he simply couldn't call the shots.
Zhao Yu came from an ordinary background and couldn't bear children. The Shang family would never allow her to marry in.
Besides, in his state of merely dragging out a wretched existence, it was impossible for him to even consider something like romantic love between a man and a woman.
He also understood that Zhao Yu felt the same way.
So, before going to America, he had a very clear definition of their relationship—huddling together for warmth in hell. Even when he agreed to her proposal of a sugar arrangement, he hadn't prepared to actually do anything with her.
But later, Zhao Yu took the initiative.
The day they were first intimate, he was handling business in the study.
She had showered and walked in wrapped only in a bath towel. Calmly, she said to him, "Let's make love."
Her figure was already very good. After that period of recuperation, she had transformed from being thin and frail to gradually becoming fuller and more radiant. Her complexion had improved greatly, accentuating her exquisite features.
He was just an ordinary man. Faced with such an alluring sight, it was impossible for him to have no reaction at all.
But he still draped his own jacket over her and turned to leave the study. He had to keep his distance from her.
She followed him out and asked, "You're my sugar daddy. Isn't this what I should be doing?"
Her eyes were still utterly placid, devoid of the slightest hint of desire. Shang Lu understood.
It wasn't that she craved his body, but that she was unwilling to be indebted to him. She was repaying everything he had done for her with her body.
But then again, wasn't he equally indebted to her? His very life could be considered saved by her.
But since she was willing to do it this way, then so be it.
Mindful of her physical condition, he was very careful that night, extremely gentle.
She panted softly, trembled, and moaned beneath him. Watching her flushed face and tear-filled eyes, he couldn't help but kiss her lips, holding her tightly in his arms as they entwined again and again.
But it was only then that he realized: once certain boundaries were broken, many things began to spiral out of control.
And he had no right to lose control.
He had nothing. His future was uncertain. This life of his could be forfeit at any moment.
What right did he have to enjoy such luxuries that shouldn't belong to him?
That night was the only time their intimacy was filled with tender affection and sweetness. He thought that everything that night should have been worthy of those two words she had used: "making love."
As for what they did afterwards, it could probably only be described as carnal transaction.
After all, they were both extremely clear-headed people, both very aware of what they wanted.
And so, he became a true sugar daddy. Between him and her, apart from the exchange of money and flesh, there was nothing else.
She cooked and did laundry for him, even specifically learned sexual techniques, trying various ways to please him, wanting to become a dutiful mistress, wanting not to owe him a single thing.
But he didn't like that fiery, sexy, and seductive version of her.
He only liked her looking pathetically delicate beneath him.
Because that pathetically delicate version of her most resembled the way she looked the day they first met.
That version of her reminded him of the miserable state he was in that day in the heavy rain, constantly reminding himself what it felt like to be trampled underfoot.
Only when facing that version of her, as he entered her body time and time again, could he cast aside all other thoughts.
They were together for three years. They often ate together, lived together, even shared a bed. They knew each other's bodies incredibly well, knew each other's living habits. Often, just a single glance from the other was enough to know exactly what they wanted to do.
But their relationship was always sugar daddy and mistress, a transaction of money and flesh.
Until he received the notice that his father wanted him to return home for an arranged marriage, saying that a certain young lady had specifically requested to marry him.
All of this, naturally, was part of his calculations.
During his three years in America, it wasn't possible for him to truly be content with just waiting to die. He was constantly plotting his return to the country, back to the Shang family, to reclaim what was originally his, including those things that originally weren't his.
It was just on the night he finally received that news that he realized he didn't feel the anticipated excitement or thrill.
That night, Zhao Yu wasn't there. He was an open-minded sugar daddy and didn't require her to be by his side at all times.
Looking at the empty apartment, he suddenly wondered: Would it be like this after returning?
Facing everything alone, eating and sleeping alone? Even if he really got married, would he still be alone?
Quietly looking at his apartment, recalling the bits and pieces of the past three years, for a fleeting moment, he actually felt that just continuing on like this forever would be quite nice, too.
But such a crazy thought was merely transient. He knew very well what he would face upon returning home—a life-and-death struggle. He had to stake his very life on it.
So, he proposed terminating their arrangement. Even though he had already made up his mind that he couldn't take her back, in the moment he spoke, his heart still faintly held some expectation—expecting her to say the word "no."
But she didn't. She only smiled slightly and said, "Okay."
Just as when they got together, their separation was also very calm—except for the day they parted, that intimacy which, for him, was far too intense, far too out of the ordinary.
But he thought, they had been together for three years.
It was normal even if he wasn't used to the separation. He allowed himself to lose control just that once.
What he hadn't anticipated was that she also returned to the country. They ran into each other again and again, and beside her, there was another man.
What he anticipated even less was that his loss of control, having happened once, would happen a second time, and a third...
He had always known that she, like him, had experienced too much pain and harbored too much hatred.
But he thought her pain and hatred were only related to the womb she had lost and the man who had hurt her.
If he could have lost control a few more times, could have investigated all the things that happened to her sooner, could have felt a little more heartache and compassion for her—then, what would have become of them?
Looking at Zhao Yu, who had already smoked several cigarettes in succession by the hospital bed, Shang Lu suddenly said, "What if, back when we were in America, I had told you: Let's just spend our whole lives keeping each other company like this, I don't want to fight for or care about anything back home anymore. Would you have been willing?"
Zhao Yu looked at him and shook her head.
For a moment, Shang Lu didn't know whether he should feel disappointed or glad.
Disappointed that he wasn't that important in her heart. Even if he was willing to give up his hatred for her, she was unwilling to cast everything aside to live a peaceful life with him.
Glad that this hypothetical was invalid. Then, he wouldn't have to harbor an eternal regret. No matter what decision he made back then, they would ultimately still have reached this point.
Gripping her hand tighter, he smiled at her. "It's alright."
"It's not too late yet. We can continue just like those three years before."
Like those three years, sharing the same boat through wind and rain.
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