Marriage First, Love Later: The Soft and Obedient Little Wife of Mr. Lu - Chapter 103: Trapped at the Dinner Table

Chapter 103: Trapped at the Dinner Table

In the end, Lu Zhijin didn’t block Fang Wenya’s contact information, but neither did he reply to that day’s text message.

However, given Fang Wenya’s capability to drive away the original spouse, she naturally wouldn’t give up so easily.

Over the following days, she persistently harassed Lu Zhijin, sometimes even deliberately sending provocative photos of herself.

Lu Zhijin was exasperated, but under pressure from his wife, he couldn’t just beat this foolish woman to death.

He had no choice but to ask Chen Sheng to hire professionals to develop a feature.

After that, Fang Wenya’s messages would be directly forwarded to Song Shimu’s phone, so he wouldn’t have to see those disgusting texts.

But somehow, after Song Shimu exchanged messages with Fang Wenya, she informed Lu Zhijin in the evening that he had to have dinner with Fang Wenya on Friday night.

What? I have to have dinner with her?!

Lu Zhijin’s eyebrows nearly shot up in anger. Was he expected to make such a huge sacrifice?

Come on, honey, just think of it as a free meal. The main goal is to gather evidence of her infidelity.

Song Shimu softened her body, leaning close to Lu Zhijin, resting her head on his chest. She playfully swung her petite feet and blinked her sparkling eyes, cooing sweetly.

Do I need that meal?!

Lu Zhijin deliberately put on a stern face, thinking to himself that he absolutely couldn’t be fooled by this little woman again.

My husband is so amazing—I’m sure he’ll complete the task brilliantly!

Song Shimu wriggled upward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down. She lifted her head to kiss his sexy, thin lips, deliberately teasing the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue.

Lu Zhijin’s eyes flickered slightly, his expression hesitant, but he maintained his stern facade.

Song Shimu persisted, her petite body lying atop him, her head nestled against the side of his neck. Her fingers traced circles on his firm chest.

Honey~ please? Just this once. I bought a bunny girl suit online. I’ll wear it for you after we succeed, okay?

Lu Zhijin couldn’t help but imagine the scene. His Adam’s apple bobbed subtly, his gaze turning dark and intense. When he spoke, his voice was husky.

Just this once. Truly, even heroes find it hard to resist a beauty’s charm.

Great! My husband is the best!

Song Shimu planted a loud kiss on Lu Zhijin’s lips, thinking to herself, Who exactly is sacrificing their charms here?!

— — —

On Friday after work, Zhao Qiyang drove a flashy dark purple sports car and parked it ostentatiously at the kindergarten entrance.

Zhao Qiyang wore a colorful tie-dye short-sleeved shirt, his hair dyed red, and a pair of oversized sunglasses. He grinned, revealing a perfect set of eight teeth.

Teacher Song, care to join me for a casual meal?

No time.

Song Shimu’s eyes held suppressed anger. It was this man with no moral boundaries who had fractured Bohán’s arm!

You’re off work—surely you have plenty of time now?

I have nothing to discuss with you, Mr. Zhao.

What if it’s about your husband, Lu Zhijin?

Zhao Qiyang raised an eyebrow, a wicked smirk on his face. He leaned closer to Song Shimu, his tone suggestive.

Everyone says Young Master Lu dotes on his wife, but is that really the case? How about I show you a good show tonight?

Song Shimu glanced sideways at him, her mind racing. Calmly, she replied, Fine.

Song Shimu called the family driver to pick up Lu Yike, then left with Zhao Qiyang.

As night fell and the city came alive, Huashi’s streets were bustling with traffic under neon lights that illuminated half the sky, while office building lights twinkled like stars along the horizon.

Lu Zhijin walked into the restaurant Fang Wenya had invited him to with clear impatience. It was a niche, hidden Western-style eatery.

Pushing open the private room door, he found a compact space bathed in dim, suggestive yellow lighting.

Fang Wenya wore a strapless top and a leather miniskirt, her wavy hair seductive and eyeliner sharply winged—a veritable fox spirit.

You actually came, Young Master Lu?!

Seeing Lu Zhijin enter, Fang Wenya widened her eyes. Her messages had gone unanswered, so she’d assumed he wouldn’t show tonight.

It seemed these men were all hypocrites pretending to be proper—in the end, they all fell before her pomegranate skirt!

Lu Zhijin furrowed his brows deeply, already regretting accepting the invitation.

But if he hadn’t come, it would’ve been like skipping out on Song Shimu’s Bawang meal—his wife would surely make him kneel on the washboard when he got home.

Fang Wenya’s overpowering perfume filled the cramped room, making Lu Zhijin feel psychologically suffocated from the moment he stepped inside.

Noticing his cold expression as he sat down, Fang Wenya paid no mind. She swayed closer to him, a flattering smile on her face.

Sensing her movement, Lu Zhijin’s frown deepened unconsciously. He shifted sideways and spoke coldly, Sit properly!

Pouting in feigned hurt, Fang Wenya returned to her seat. Putting on a sickeningly sweet voice, she whined, You’re so harsh, Young Master Lu! Then she stood up, deliberately leaning forward to expose her ample chest as she poured him a drink.

Lu Zhijin crossed his arms and looked away, irritation tightening his brow.

He wanted to leave—desperately.

But his wife had just texted him, telling him to hang in there.

Being an obedient wifey slave was tough!

The entire meal was essentially Fang Wenya’s one-woman show, with Lu Zhijin playing the part of an aloof mute, his face a mask of impatience.

Fang Wenya talked until her mouth felt dry. Suppressing her frustration, she downed a glass of wine, her lips twitching with restrained resentment as she glared at the man across from her.

He’d accepted her invitation—why was he still putting on an act?

Damn man, just wait—you’ll be begging for me soon!

The more Fang Wenya drank, the dizzier she felt. Lu Zhijin’s figure began to blur before her eyes. Her vision grew hazy, and her body grew warm with arousal.

Noticing the glass in front of Lu Zhijin—the one she’d poured for him earlier—still untouched, she propped herself on the table, her heavy head resting on her arm. Her mind grew foggy, and the question slipped out unbidden: Young Master Lu, why aren’t you drinking?

She could barely make out his face. Lu Zhijin seemed to be glaring coldly, his eyes filled with disdain and disgust, but in a blink, the image faded.

His cool, detached voice reached her ears, muffled and distant: The gift you prepared—you should enjoy it yourself.

Squinting, her eyelids heavy, Fang Wenya didn’t understand his meaning.

She saw Lu Zhijin stand and leave. Instinctively, she reached out to grab him but caught nothing.

Young Master Lu—

The room door shut heartlessly. Overwhelmed with discomfort, Fang Wenya clawed at her hair, wanting to tear off her clothes, her mind too muddled to think.

Soon, two servers entered the room, hoisted her up, and took her to a room upstairs.

Her body was dumped unceremoniously onto a bed where a man already lay. Without conscious thought, Fang Wenya tangled herself around him.

The man seemed to sense her movement, pulling Fang Wenya tightly against his chest as he roughly tore off her clothes.

Lu Shao~

Fang Wenya clung to the man’s muscular upper body.

You little slut, I’ll show you what I’m capable of!

Fang Wenya found the voice somewhat familiar, but before she could recall where she’d heard it, she became lost in the throes of passion.

The soft bed rocked with their movements as both man and woman lost all reason, sinking into a world dominated by desire, unaware of what awaited them.