Arden couldn't quite understand why, but lately, nothing seemed to spark his interest. Drinking felt dull, and flirting with beautiful women was even duller. It was as if frustration had buried itself deep within him, with no outlet for release. He threw himself into workouts, pushing his body to its limits. While his chest muscles grew, the weight on his heart remained.

Could he be sick?

Despite his indulgent lifestyle, Arden wasn't the type to prioritize women over his well-being. His sex life, though active, was just enough to satisfy his desires—three to five times a week at most. The only notable detail was that his partners often changed.

At the prime of his twenties, Arden figured that if he felt hungry, he just needed to eat appropriately and avoid overeating to prevent "stomach problems," right? He prided himself on his health—his physique was so strong that he never caught a cold, not even once a year.

Driving to see his family doctor, a thought struck him: could he be "dehydrated"?

Then he remembered the "bottle of mineral water"—a girl who was pure, stubborn, tender, passionate, and full of vitality. Just thinking about her made him want to press her onto a bed and have some intimate moments together. The thought alone made him thirsty. He swallowed twice as a fiery heat surged through his body, making it almost impossible to sit still.

What a strange situation. He hadn't felt any interest in other women lately, blaming it on the pressure of his impending graduation. But now, it seemed the issue might lie in his taste in partners.

One of life's little miracles was this: what you desired often appeared right before your eyes. As Arden stopped at a red light, his gaze drifted into the distance—and there she was.

Sandra was dressed in white sportswear—simple, yet it suited her perfectly. Though to Arden, it hardly mattered whether she was clothed or not. His gaze could undress her in just two or three glances.

That body was a rare combination of petite and strength, with graceful curves and impressive resilience. Just the right balance of subtlety, leaving nothing need to be added. No wonder he had been so hung up on her lately.

Thinking about how he had been her first man—and, in all likelihood, her only man—he couldn't help but feel smug.

Just as his self-satisfaction began to overflow, a tall man emerged from a nearby shop. Dressed in matching white sportswear, he carried a bag slung over his shoulder and held two ice creams in his hands. He walked straight toward Sandra.

She took one of the ice creams from him, her smile blooming instantly, sweeter than the ice cream.

Arden felt a jolt of tension shoot through his body. His SVJ roared to life, surging forward with a growl as it crossed the pedestrian path, honking loudly, heading straight toward Sandra and the man feeding her.

The car screeched to a halt by the roadside, startling both of them. Sandra's ice cream wobbled unsteadily, and with a "plop," the top scoop fell onto the car's window, just three inches away from her.

The tall man quickly pulled Sandra aside, and the SVJ's wing doors slowly rose. The fallen scoop of ice cream slid down the glass, leaving a pale trail before lodging in the side mirror.

The man in the driver's seat pushed up his oversized sunglasses, resting an arm casually on the passenger seat. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he addressed his girl:

"Babe, long time no see."

The tall man's posture tensed as he stepped forward to shield Sandra behind him. "Who are you?"

Arden leaned back in his seat, letting his gaze linger on Sandra for a moment before making a dramatic over-the-shoulder motion. He then spread his hand wide and threw his head back as though he'd just been knocked out.

"It's you?" Yao finally recognized him, a frown creasing his brow. "Why are you calling her 'babe'?"

Arden pointed at Yao with a smirk. "Actually, I was calling you 'babe.'"

Yao froze, confusion flickering across his face, and Arden chuckled, waving his hand. "Relax, man. Just a joke. As for why I am calling her 'babe'—well, you should ask the lady behind you. If she doesn't mind..."

Yao turned to Sandra, his gaze probing, searching for an answer.

Sandra felt her heart pound in her chest. This man—either he didn't show up at all, or he appeared just when she was trying to move on. Had she owed him some sort of fortune in her past life for him to keep haunting her like this?

"Sandra?" Yao asked uneasily, noticing the frozen smile on her face.

"You owe me an ice cream," Sandra suddenly blurted, completely off-topic, leaving both men stunned.

Arden glanced at the car door, then let out a delayed "Ah!" He shook his head in dismay. "Tsk... How could this happen? Now I'll have to wash the car again. I just came from the car wash five minutes ago. Babe..."

"You owe me an ice cream," Sandra interrupted quickly, cutting him off before he could bring up the "babe" topic again. She stomped her foot, pouting with exaggerated protest, using the childish excuse to distract him.

Yao stood there, thoroughly puzzled. Normally, if Sandra cared about the ice cream, she'd have rolled up her sleeves and dealt with it right away. When had she ever acted so coy?

Arden didn't seem annoyed at all. He tilted his head slightly and grinned. "Ok, ok, babe, I'll buy you another ice cream. But first, you have to come with me to the car wash."

He leaned over slightly, peering over his sunglasses with a meaningful glance, silently warning her, If you don't come, I'll tell your friend why I call you 'babe.'

It was clear to anyone with eyes that something was going on between the driver and Sandra.

Sandra's forehead tightened, and before Yao could react, she shook off his hand.

"Fine."

Without waiting for further questions, she ducked into the car.

This time, Arden wasn't in a hurry to drive off. The car doors closed slowly, and he even retracted the convertible top.

Sandra sat in the passenger seat, a furious expression on her face.

Arden, looking thoroughly satisfied, reached over to pat her head. But she slapped his hand away. He didn't mind, though. He simply turned and waved goodbye to the dumbfounded man, who was still standing by the roadside, holding a single ice cream.

Arden enjoyed seeing that helpless, despairing expression on Sandra's face. Watching a girl who was always full of fighting spirit occasionally show a vulnerable side gave him a certain sense of accomplishment.

She was like a little kitten, appearing soft and weak but constantly showing her claws. However, if you scratched the right spot, she'd obediently give in.

"Your boyfriend?" Arden glanced at the girl slouched in the passenger seat, frustration etched across her face. A smug smile tugged at his lips, unintentional yet unmistakable—like a cat that had just stolen a fish.

Sandra wanted to say yes, but she knew that if she admitted it, Arden would probably turn the car around immediately to confront Yao. So, she snapped, "No."

"Oh~" Arden dragged out the syllable. "I thought you cared so much about him knowing our relationship... Sorry for the misunderstanding." His sense of accomplishment instantly plummeted several points.

Sandra felt more frustrated than ever. Why was she losing control of herself? She could have just pulled Yao aside and explained, "Arden's just a playboy who calls everyone 'babe.'"

But what if Arden told Yao that the two of them had a one-night stand? Not once, but twice.

So what? Yao wasn't really her boyfriend. Why did she care so much?

She left with Arden, Yao must have a lot of questions. She'd need to come up with an explanation. She wasn't good at lying; one lie would lead to another, and it would be mentally exhausting.

But if she told the truth, wouldn't the result be the same? She couldn't possibly avoid Yao forever. 

Sandra clenched her phone, which was vibrating nonstop, feeling frustrated.

Arden suddenly snatched her phone, tossing the thing that was bothering her out of the car.

"Hey, my phone..."

She turned just in time to see the phone tumble twice across the road, only to be mercilessly run over by the wheels of the car behind the SVJ.

"I'll buy you a new one," Arden said casually. It's just a phone; I can buy as many as you want.

"No need!" Sandra snapped, her anger flaring.

She turned and glared fiercely at the driver. Why did her brain short-circuit every time she saw this man?

Arden glanced at the little kitten he'd tricked into the passenger seat, but as soon as his head turned, he quickly snapped it back to face forward.

What kind of look was that? Terrifying. Even someone as bold as him couldn't help but feel a pang of fear. He needed to soothe her immediately.

"Are you mad at me?" Arden dropped his smug expression.

Sandra ignored him.

"I'm sorry," Arden said sincerely. "I left that day without saying anything."

Sandra clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. Thinking about how she had almost asked him to stay that day—and had foolishly held onto a shred of hope—made her so angry at herself she wanted to cry.

Arden swallowed hard, as if what he was about to say was incredibly difficult. "You know, ever since that day, I keep picturing you standing in the kitchen making instance noodle for me."

But neither of them managed to eat the instant noodles that day. Remembering the reason, Sandra couldn't help but blush, her heart racing. Embarrassed and angry, she turned her head away, trying to resist being swayed by his words once again.

"The warm orange light, the aroma of the food..." She didn't want to listen, but Arden kept talking. "Isn't that what home feels like?"

Sandra still didn't respond, letting him perform his solo act.

"I've never experienced what home feels like," Arden continued, getting caught up in his own story. "But that scene made me feel so warm. Really. In that moment, I wished I had someone who could cook for me every day. Even if it was just instant noodles..."

Arden was so convincing that even he felt a lump rise in his throat.

"I didn't mean to do anything to you, but when you stood in front of me, caring about me like that, I couldn't help myself. When I left, the way you looked at me—it broke my heart. Did you know I almost said something I shouldn't have..."

Sandra thought, Was it that you shouldn't say it, didn't dare to say it, or couldn't say it?

"I'm sorry. I can't make you any promises. You know, I..." Arden paused, letting his words hang in the air. Since she already misunderstood him as being in that line of work, he decided to let her continue thinking so. "...I've been with a lot of women."

Sandra was caught off guard by his brutal honesty.

"But I didn't love them." That was the truth.

"Do you think I'm filthy?" Arden's voice was tinged with vulnerability, an unfamiliar emotion for someone like him. But he managed to pull off the act.

Sandra said nothing, silently struggling with her thoughts.

Arden, sensing her hesitation, fell silent as well, allowing the quiet space between them to speak volumes.

The car was once again enveloped in silence, but this time, it felt different to Arden. Strangely, he didn't find it awkwardly quiet; instead, there was an unusual comfort in it. Just having her sit beside him, even without speaking, eased the gnawing, burning feeling inside him.

But for Sandra, the silence was deafening. It was as though she was surrounded by a chorus of conflicting voices, each pulling her in different directions, dragging her deeper into turmoil.

🧠🌪️

"Get out of the car. What are you waiting for? Let him fool you again?" one voice urged.

"Exactly. He left so decisively that day, like he didn't care at all. You hated him for that." another added, sharp and biting.

"But didn't he just say he wanted to promise something, but his self-esteem wouldn't let him?" one voice countered, trying to soften the blow.

"He has his reasons; you shouldn't be so harsh on him." another, quieter voice reasoned.

"A man with arms and legs, not working but living off women—what kind of ambition is that?" the first voice scoffed.

"But he saved your life and bled so much for you." the other voice reminded her gently, as if trying to justify him.

"You like him, don't you? Ever since the first moment you saw him at The Roxy. That's why you left with him." the voice pressed again.

"Who likes him? Are you out of your mind?" Sandra shot back at the accusation, her thoughts a whirlwind.

"Then why do you dream about him every night?" the voice responded coolly.

"That's just psychological trauma from being deceived, okay?" she snapped, attempting to dismiss the thought.

"Deceived? Did he force you or drug you? Who was holding onto him so tightly during those moments? Didn't you enjoy being with him?" the voice pressed on, persistent.

"You liked being around him, didn't you? The feeling of being enveloped by him, protected, conquered." it whispered, almost as if in triumph.

"He likes you too. Didn't you hear what he said?" another voice insisted.

"You can't believe a man's words." the final voice warned, the skepticism sharp.

"..."

🤯🔚

"Babe, take it easy," Arden gently reminded. "It's about to come out."

"What?" Sandra was still lost in thought, slightly confused.

"Don't... hey... don't squeeze so hard. Ah. Look, it spilled, didn't it?"

Sandra clenched her fists, and the ice cream splashed onto her face. A drop landed on her forehead, and the thick, milky-white liquid slowly slid down through her bangs. She squinted as two little white pearls clung to her long eyelashes, trembling slightly. Most of it landed on her left cheek, with a large glob near the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, she tilted her head and stuck out her tongue to lick it off.

The SVJ wobbled slightly on the road.

Arden glanced at her, his neck stiffening. This mischievous little minx—she must be doing it on purpose.

He quickly pulled over, reaching into the glove compartment and handing her some tissues. But instead of taking them, Sandra slid a finger across her cheek to gather the milk that had spilled at the corner of her mouth, then slowly licked her finger.

Arden felt like he was about to lose his mind. He shoved one hand into her hair, gripping her small head, while the other hand grabbed a stack of tissues and began furiously wiping her face.

"Hey, hey! What are you doing? Ugh..."

He was parched, completely ignoring that they were parked illegally on a busy street. He only wanted to quench his thirst with this cup of "water" to soothe the fiery sensation burning him alive. He tossed the tissue aside, leaned in, and kissed her.

The tip of his tongue met a sweet, creamy flavor. One spot was cool, while another was warm and soft—like a milkshake with slippery jelly that darted away whenever he tried to catch it.

So sweet, so soft...

So firm, so salty...

"Ah..."

Arden let go, running the back of his hand across his tongue, leaving a faint trace of blood. "Why are you..."

"Smack!" Her answer was a loud slap.

Arden sat there for a few seconds, the sting of the slap echoing in his mind.

But Sandra had already made her escape, a quick, fluid motion as she vaulted over the car door and dashed down the street.

Arden straightened, adjusting his crooked sunglasses, and watched her retreating figure with a mix of frustration and amusement.

He glanced down at the mess in the car—a pile of crumpled tissues, the deformed ice cream cone, and the splattered milk that marred the black leather seat. It was like some twisted metaphor for the chaos she had brought into his life, both sweet and maddening.

"This unreliable Cinderella," he muttered under his breath. "Look what kind of mess you left me?"

A smile tugged at his lips.

Run away? Not a chance!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Happy new year!!! Welcome to 2025, the 2nd update~

If you like my story, please add it to your book list and remember to vote! Your support is my motivation！