The outcome of marriage

I once had a very happy marriage. Back then, we were young and full of life. She was attracted to my gentle and refined nature, and I was attracted to her shrewdness and competence. Her family owned a large private enterprise in the area; she could be considered a "second-generation rich." However, despite being in the business world herself, she didn't want to marry someone from the same circle. She said that businessmen who talked about money and profit were vulgar. She wanted a man like me: cultured, studious, thoughtful, and a sophisticated professional manager. I liked her very much too. She was a very opinionated woman, beautiful, and stylish. Both sets of parents approved, saying they were a perfect match. So, the marriage was arranged.
On our wedding day, we borrowed nine luxury cars from our friends, bosses, and business partners. I even made a point of contacting a traffic policeman friend, saying we'd take a ride around Wuhan's inner ring road for a grand finale. My friend, a traffic policeman, said they each managed a section, and as long as we obeyed traffic rules and didn't run red lights, we should be able to drive around the city without any problems. He reminded me that when crossing the Yangtze River Bridge, license plates had to be assigned odd and even numbers, so I should pay attention to that to avoid being stopped and in trouble. I thought about it and realized he was right. So I checked the license plates one by one, and found that two cars were not allowed. That day, a total of seven floats went on the road. That year, I was twenty-nine years old, and she was twenty-seven.
I had always been very optimistic about our future together. Before we got married, she had bought a two-bedroom apartment.
She didn't know me when she bought the apartment. She said that if her future husband wasn't capable, she would support him. In the end, she found me, which made her overjoyed; a handsome man who didn't need her support became her husband.
We didn't get married in her apartment; instead, I bought another three-bedroom apartment with a housing provident fund loan. My father is a deputy bureau-level cadre in the municipal government. I was deeply influenced by my family upbringing and am a very upright and traditional man. I am quite independent and strong-willed, and I don't want to take advantage of women, even if she is my wife. At first, she was unhappy, saying that we are all family and there's no need to be so calculating. Her parents, however, were very supportive, saying that it's proper for the groom to buy a house, that's what "marrying off a daughter" means. Later, she understood this and was happy to marry me in a "marriage-offering" manner.

After the marriage, we spent a wonderful time together, loving each other deeply and always inseparable, which made the neighbors envious. Her parents also liked me very much as their son-in-law. They said that although they had been in business all their lives and were wealthy, they lacked "nobility," and I and my family had finally brought them honor. So, they always asked her to bring back things from her parents' home for me to eat.
The year after the marriage, our child was born, fair-skinned, chubby, and always smiling at everyone, very cute.
After the child turned one, she left him with his maternal grandmother and continued working at her family business, taking over her father's position as general manager and overseeing the day-to-day operations. Her father, on the other hand, stepped down to a less demanding role as chairman, no longer involved in day-to-day affairs. That year, I was thirty, and she was twenty-eight. We were both in the prime of our youth, vibrant and energetic like blooming flowers.

As the saying goes, fortune and misfortune are unpredictable, and life is ever-changing.
But soon, our lives began to diverge. We both frequently had to work overtime for our respective careers. Sometimes she was home, and I wasn't; sometimes I was home, and she wasn't. Our home gradually became a separate haven for us.
Two years later, she had even more business engagements. Drinking, playing mahjong, dancing, drinking coffee, drinking tea, and so on—the list of activities grew longer, and she was mostly with men. When I asked her why, she said it was all for business, nothing else. I asked, "Couldn't it be during the day? Why does it have to be at night?" She said, "These are all arranged by others; how can I refuse?" Turning down social engagements is like turning down connections; and turning down connections is like losing business.
I suddenly realized that we weren't concentric circles to begin with, but rather organisms operating on different tracks. The chance of overlap wasn't nonexistent, but it was rare.
Sometimes, I was already asleep when she came home. After we got into bed, I was woken up, but she wanted to sleep. Smelling her faint fragrance, I reached out to hug her, wanting her. She would decline, saying, "Let's do it tomorrow morning." When morning came, I woke up to find my penis hard and erect, wanting her even more. She reluctantly spread her legs, lifted her buttocks, and let me take off her pants.
I climbed on top of her and thrust in. She simply cooperated by extending her arms, wrapping them around my shoulders, and closing her eyes. Although she was a little wet down there, I knew that's how women are when they're with a man.
After a quick ejaculation, she remained limp on the bed, and I got up to wash myself. Sex is supposed to be a two-way street, but now it was just me doing it all; it didn't feel very meaningful.
But she wasn't like this before. She used to be so enthusiastic, always wanting me and clinging to me. She was the kind of proactive woman who knew what she wanted and didn't want. But now, because of her business, our sex life has become like this.

I'm perceptive. One day, she came home late as usual, well past midnight, and slept in late the next morning. When I got up, I saw her small bag and phone. So I picked them up and looked through her text message history. I know what I did was indecent, but I had to do it. I found that one person had been sending her ambiguous messages, saying things like, "How are you feeling?" "Do you still want it?" etc. My intuition
suddenly told me that she was having an affair. But at that time, I didn't want to confront her without concrete evidence, after all, she had her own freedom, so I only reminded her to come home earlier in the future when it was convenient.
One morning, as I was getting ready to leave, she lay in bed and told me that she had to go on a business trip for a week to Guangdong to buy a batch of goods. I asked when she was going. She said in a couple of days. I asked who else was going. She said that besides herself, there was also a sales manager at the company. After finalizing the deal, she would return, and the sales manager would handle the rest.
I told her to take care of herself, not to overwork, and to call me anytime if needed.
Two days later, she really left. I called her company and asked the receptionist if she was there. She said she was on a business trip. I asked where she went. She said she went to Guangdong.

We have two houses. One is in Wuchang, where we live now; the other is in Hankou, which she bought before we got married. The two houses are not in the same place, quite far apart, on the south and north banks of the Yangtze River. Sometimes, she would go back to check on things and clean up. Or, if she was out socializing too late and didn't want to drive across the river again, she would just sleep there and call me to let me know. I, however, only went there occasionally.
After she went on her business trip, I continued to work and live according to my own routine. I still only occasionally stopped by that house to rest and relax when I went to work in Hankou. But it was this occasional use that uncovered the secret.
In her bedroom, on the bedside table, I found an opened box of condoms. It wasn't mine. Clearly, someone had engaged in sexual activity in this room.
But was it her? It was hard to say.

—Perhaps she lent the key to her close friend? Perhaps another woman brought a man here?
In their social circle, such things were possible.
—But that didn't make sense; if a friend borrowed the place, shouldn't they try to cover their tracks afterwards? So
I continued searching for clues.
—In the wardrobe were many of her underwear.
—The washing machine on the balcony was empty. Nothing there.
—The wine cabinet contained various spirits and wines. A bottle of Royal Red Wine was opened, half-empty, and sitting there. But that wasn't my wine.
—In the ashtray in the living room were several cigarette butts, smoked by men. They were men's cigarettes because the force used to extinguish them had bent the butts. Women don't usually use that much force.
Continuing my search, I found two pairs of slippers carelessly tossed under the hidden shoe cabinet in the entryway. I hadn't noticed them when I came in, but now it seemed suspicious. If no one was home, these shoes would be in the cabinet, not just lying on the floor.
I then went to the bathroom and touched the towels; they were all wet. This meant someone was staying there, and had used them early that morning. The soap dish was also wet. I
came out of the bathroom and polished the whole house. Overall, it was fairly clean. I figured a woman must have cleaned the house first, and then the man smoked a cigarette before they left.
This small oversight left a suspicious clue.
However, to gather further evidence and find out who was using the house, I needed technology.
But installing listening devices was difficult at the moment. Besides, this place wasn't my property, and I had no right to install listening devices here.
Was this woman really my wife? If so, then she must have returned from her business trip to Guangdong, but instead of coming home, she stayed here to meet with a man. If this deduction is correct, then they might come back here again tonight.

I went to my wife's house again at 9:30 pm. Standing downstairs, I saw that although the bedroom curtains were drawn, I could still see a soft light shining inside.
Turning to the back of the house, I looked up and saw that the window of our living room was dark.
"They're in the bedroom," I thought.
"Should I go up?" I asked myself.
"When disaster strikes, can we escape it?" one voice said.
"If we really encounter it, there's no turning back," another voice said.
"If there's no loyalty, what's the point of a hypocritical marriage?" the first voice said again.
Yes, so-called marriage is based on loyalty and chastity. Without these, two people sleeping together, deceiving each other, is meaningless.
————Up!
Black leather shoes quickly stepped on the stairs.
God didn't want people to be clever in the first place. Because once people become intelligent, they create endless trouble. Therefore, God sent people away from his biological laboratory in Eden. That's how I am now. When I didn't know the truth, everything was fine; but once I knew, how could a man of my stature, with all his might, cower like a coward and let it go?
I gently opened the bedroom door, quietly entered the living room, and slowly sat down on the sofa. Everything was so silent.
The bedroom door wasn't closed tightly, and bursts of unrestrained laughter mixed with the sounds of sexual intercourse escaped from the crack, stimulating my heart.
"Ah…" my wife's moans.
"Slap, slap, slap, slap…" the sounds of their bodies colliding.
"Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak…" the sound of the Simmons bed being pressed down.
"Ah… harder, harder, I'm coming…"
"Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap…" the sounds of their sexual intercourse accelerating.
I took a watermelon knife from the kitchen's sterilizer, its cold light gleaming.
I turned on the living room light.
A pair of cold, sinister eyes stared intently at the bedroom door.
"Ah...I...I'm coming...ah...ah..." His wife was in the throes of orgasm.
"Hmph..." A chilling laugh echoed from hell, the devil's right hand gripping a knife, slapping his left palm.
The door opened. A man stepped out, heading towards the bathroom.
"Hey!...You...calm down, don't do anything reckless!" The man suddenly saw a glaring, murderous figure sitting on the sofa.
Bald head, a protruding belly, short, thick thighs, a man in his forties or fifties—how dare he sleep with my young wife!
"I'll kill you!" the devil finally roared.
"Who is it?" His wife's voice trembled, and then a naked woman floated out of the bedroom, carrying a discarded condom.

"Ah, you—"
A kick landed on her hip, and Pan Jinlian collapsed like a white cotton ball, the condom flying far away, its semen splattering onto the wall.
The bald-headed Ximen Qing was almost inside the bathroom when Wu Song raised his knife to strike. Ximen Qing dodged and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
"Tell me, do you want to die?" Wu Song turned to the naked Pan Jinlian.
Pan Jinlian's snow-white body lay on her side on the floor, like a plump lamb awaiting slaughter, shaking her head.
The watermelon knife slapped against her delicate face. The lewdness that had filled her face moments before was now completely gone.
The bald man opened the door again and came out. I jumped up immediately.
"Brother, let's talk this out! This isn't worth fighting," the bald man said, already dressed.
"You dared to sleep with my wife in my house, what's there to talk about?" "Brother, it's a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding. We can talk, we can talk."
"How do you plan to talk?"
"Give me money. How much do you want? Name your price."
"One million!"
"No problem, no problem, we can discuss it, we can discuss it!"
Does this guy really have money? "What's your background?" the devil thought. "Are you scared because I have a knife?
" "Hmph, hmph. I'll release you two when you pay up." "Tomorrow, tomorrow. I need to go to the finance department to make some transfers."
I glanced at Pan Jinlian at my feet; she seemed calmer. "Release him first, you can talk to me if you have something to say."
"You harlot! Shut up!"
"Leave your underwear, ID card, driver's license, and bank credit cards." "Okay, okay. You can have them all."
The bald man, hearing he could potentially escape the scene, immediately began taking off his underwear.
I immediately pulled out my phone, turned on the camera, and photographed him undressing and reaching for his wallet.
"Sir, here you go."
I pointed at the man's face. "Good! You're smart. Put on your coat!" He said as he put on his coat, "Don't hurt her."
"It's not your place to tell me what to do!" I roared. The whole room seemed to tremble.
He lowered his head, opened the door, and left.
The room fell silent instantly.
I glanced at Pan Jinlian and asked coldly, "Tell me, who is he?""An investor in the company." I picked up the small condom from the floor and placed it among the pile of clothes. Turning back, I stared at her expressionless face: "When did this start?" "Two months ago." I asked, "Is it often like this?" She said, "Occasionally." I said, "I didn't see your behavior just now, but I heard it all. Your relationship with him is definitely not accidental." She said, "Then what do you want me to say?" I asked, "Are you willing to leave him?"

She shook her head: "He's a shareholder in the company, one of the major shareholders." I said, "So, it's unlikely you'll ever go back to each other?"
She remained silent.
"Will he marry you?"
"We're just having fun."
"Fine, I'll grant you your wish." I said coldly.
"No, I won't." She mustered her courage and said.
"Too late." I shook my head: "Too late!" I said, calmly gritting my teeth: "You're not doing this once or twice, not occasionally, but frequently. This is unacceptable!" I am a traditional man, and I value a woman's chastity. From my perspective, divorce is inevitable.
Perhaps some will ask, why can't I forgive her once? Why must we divorce?
Because this isn't just a simple sexual relationship; it also involves her family's interests. It's said that the man was planning to invest 7.7 million yuan in her family business to expand its operations. But he coveted her beauty and pursued her for a long time. This time, she went along with him because she thought that as long as I didn't know, having sex with him would be fine; it was just a fling, not something to take seriously. But fate intervened, and by some twist of fate, I discovered it.
No one can live according to their own will. This was true for both of us, whether we were married or divorced. Tenderness only arises when interests align, while selfishness, indifference, predation, greed, and possessiveness are the most primal essence of life.
That night, she stayed at her house. I packed up all the evidence, including her underwear and sheets stained with her vaginal fluid, and went back to my home in Wuchang.
She didn't want a divorce. She said that in her circle, many women had extramarital affairs. Some even engaged in wife-swapping or threesomes. Her parents, unaware of what had happened between us, called me in for questioning. I went to her parents' house with the evidence and placed it on the table. Her mother fainted from shock.

The divorce was quickly finalized. I continued to live in the house I bought, while she moved back to hers. She wanted a child, and her parents said they would compensate me by raising the child. I thought it didn't matter who raised the child. So we reached an agreement: she and her parents would be responsible for raising the child, and I would have visitation rights. That year, I was thirty-five, and she was thirty-three.
[The End]

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The outcome of marriage

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