Long reprint: The Road to Love Exchange, Chapter Two

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Chapter Two. A few days later, I unexpectedly ran into Chen Xinyue while shopping alone. She was pouting and wandering aimlessly through the mall, looking adorably like someone owed her money. I followed her for a while before confirming it was her, since we'd only met once. Just as I was about to be mistaken for a stalker, I stepped forward and tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around and it took her a few seconds to recognize me. After asking, I learned that her best friend had stood her up that day, and she was sulking alone. So, I naturally took on the role of her temporary follower. During this time, I learned from her the reason for Chen Xinyue's change in attitude. Apparently, she had a boyfriend in college, but he went abroad to study after graduation. After her initial heartbreak, she naturally assumed the relationship was over. However, when he recently returned, the first thing he did was go to see her. Upon learning that she had a new boyfriend, he frantically tried to win her back, and that's how things ended.

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. The same old story, the same old plot. Who could be more miserable than me?

Fate is truly wondrous. Chen Qianyi abandoned me, but a chance encounter led me to Chen Xinyue, and after two years of ups and downs, joys and sorrows, our relationship finally came to fruition. We walked hand in hand into the hall of marriage, and have been together for four years now. With the help of both sets of parents, we have our own little home, not big, but cozy enough. We also have our own car, not luxurious, but enough to shelter us from the wind and rain on our journeys.

In these four years, I've gone from twenty to thirty. Every time I comb my hair, I don't know if it's just my imagination, but I feel like my hair isn't as thick as before. Although I exercise regularly and pay attention to my diet, my belly has inevitably become a bit more prominent. But time seems to have only favored me, forgetting my wife; she seems unchanged.

Yes, my wife is very beautiful, 169 cm tall. Her exact height is a mystery to me; she doesn't like people saying she's 170 cm, so she always says 169 cm, just like I'm only a little over 179 cm, but I always say 180 cm. My wife has a small face, a pointed chin, and big eyes. If she dyed her long, black hair blue, she could cosplay as an anime character. Many friends and family say she doesn't look like a woman nearing thirty; she looks like a college fresh out of school.

When we first got married, we were madly in love with each other's bodies, living each day like it was the end of the world. We'd make love when we woke up, sleep when we were tired, make love again when we woke up, eat when we were tired, and make love again when we were full. It seemed like life was supposed to be like this. My wife has fair skin, long, straight legs, and D-cup breasts—all my favorites.

She loved swimming since she was a child and almost joined the city team to pursue a professional career, but her parents couldn't bear to see her suffer and gave up. This experience sculpted her healthy and well-proportioned physique and instilled in her a love for water.

During our honeymoon in the Maldives, we stayed in an overwater bungalow. She could spend almost the entire day in the sea, tumbling like a mermaid. After that, every vacation she took was to the beach; she just loves water that much. No wonder they say women are made of water. This has also led her to develop a habit: to make it easier to wear a swimsuit, she usually shaves her pubic hair clean. Even though life has become more mundane in recent years, and we go on fewer vacations, this habit hasn't changed. Even if there's just a hint of hair, she'll shave it clean. In her words, she's completely unaccustomed to having any hair there.

I must say, my wife is exactly my type. She once worried that I might not like her smooth, clean pubic area, but I really want to shout, this is exactly what I love! It's said that people of East Asian descent tend to accumulate melanin in their genitals due to genetics, resulting in darker vulvas. However, my wife's vulva is always pink and clean, like the heroine in a Western adult film. Watching my penis slide in and out of that pink flesh during intercourse is a wonderful experience.

But like most couples, the frequency of our sex life has decreased dramatically over time. From multiple times a day when we first got married, to once a day, then once every few days, and now, after four years of marriage, it's about once a week. Part of this is because either of us feels it's been a few days since we last had sex and it's time to do it again.

Plus, my wife has been very careful about contraception lately because of her work. Every time she pushes me to get a condom at the crucial moment, it feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over my burning body. I don't like having a plastic barrier between us, so I usually insist on not using it at first, and only putting it on for the final climax. Occasionally, I can't hold back anymore, and she gets up like she's been electrocuted to wash herself, completely disregarding my feelings. Sometimes, feeling uneasy, I even have to take an emergency contraceptive.

Various factors have made me increasingly afraid to have sex with her. When she's on her period, I strangely feel a sense of relief; at least for a few days I don't have to go through that unpleasant, routine kind of sex.

We're both aware of this subtle change, and we're both anxious, but we pretend to be nonchalant, as if it's a taboo subject that neither of us can touch.

That night, I was holding my wife's fair body, making love, and she was making her own unique panting sounds, the pitch changing with the rhythm of my movements.

I reached out and turned on the bedside lamp, a soft light illuminating her fair skin with a pale golden glow. But my wife frowned and turned the lamp off.

"Too bright," she murmured.

"But I like seeing you when you're in ecstasy," I said shamelessly, turning the lamp back on.

"What are you doing?" My wife's face showed a hint of disgust and impatience, and she turned the lamp off again.

Her expression and actions ignited my anger. I stopped what I was doing, pulled my half-erect penis out of her body, sat up abruptly, and turned on the bedside lamp again. This time, however, it wasn't to admire her body, but simply to make it easier to get dressed.

"What's wrong?" My wife seemed to sense my displeasure, gently tugging at my sleeve and asking timidly.

"Nothing, I can't sleep, I'm going to watch some TV," I replied curtly, getting up and walking towards the living room.

There's one good thing about weekend nights: you can turn on any sports channel and there will be broadcasts of leagues from various countries. As a man, I don't feel bored. I took a can of ice-cold beer from the refrigerator and started watching the game. About half an hour later, the bedroom door opened, and my wife came out wearing a silk nightgown. I assumed she was going to the bathroom, glanced at her without saying anything, but she slowly walked over and sat down beside me.

Out of spite, I didn't look at her, but then I heard soft sobbing beside me. I turned around and saw my wife sniffling, wiping away tears with a tissue. My heart melted instantly. I put down my beer can, moved closer to her, and put my arm around her shoulder.

"Don't cry, it's my fault. I shouldn't have lost my temper over such a small thing," I said softly.

She shook her head and said, "Actually, I didn't want it to be like this, but I don't know what's wrong with me lately. We've only been married for four years and things have already cooled down so much. I'm so afraid of what will happen in a few more years. I'm really scared."

Her crying broke my heart, and I couldn't help but hug her tightly and apologize in her ear. My wife's beautiful body had never changed. In just a short while, the fragrance of her body entered my nostrils, and the silky smooth texture of her skin actually rekindled some of my lost passion. I tried to reach my hand inside her chest and grabbed a full hemisphere. After gently kneading it a few times, I extended a finger to tease the pink nipple. She stretched out a hand as if to stop my mischievous hand, but the movement seemed to block the way out of her chest, as if afraid that my hand would abandon her.

The sobbing stopped, replaced by soft panting and moans. The embers of passion in my mind, almost extinguished, reignited as if injected with fresh oxygen. I kissed her lips, licking the corners of her mouth with my tongue, where the faint salty taste of tears lingered.

My wife returned my kiss with her own tongue. One hand reached down to her waist, untying the ties of her nightgown, then pulled it off. My lips left hers, and I lowered my head, taking one pink nipple into my mouth. My other hand slipped inside her panties, exploring the mysterious stream. I could feel the gentle flow of fluid. My wife was aroused. I quickly pulled off her panties, exploring her breasts while sucking on her nipples. The double assault made her moans even more unrestrained.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. Why not take this opportunity to tell her what I'd been thinking about for days?

"Wife."

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to rekindle our lost passion?"

"Yes," my wife answered vaguely.

"If I told you I had a way, would you be willing to try it?"

"What way do you have?"

I whispered in her ear, "Do you want to try a threesome?"

"What?" Her eyes widened in confusion, clearly not understanding what I meant.

"It's about finding another man to join you in having sex." I forced myself to be even more explicit.

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Long reprint: The Road to Love Exchange, Chapter Two

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