Calls from home all went straight to voicemail. By the time he remembered to check, he'd already missed over a dozen.
The source of his "peace and quiet," naturally, was another woman. She kept him company, doting on him, flattering him endlessly, and treating him like a king.
That woman's surname was Yan. She was in her early thirties and worked as a lounge singer in a bar.
She knew how to make coffee and brew soup. She spoke in a soft, gentle voice and never raised it in argument.
Her apartment was always tidy, the sheets were changed weekly, and the refrigerator was stocked with his favorite foods.
She never asked about his past or brought up the future, only caring that their present days were pleasant.
Whenever he came over, she would have slippers and a hot towel ready for him. She even remembered the exact brand of his favorite cigarettes.
As for the mess at home, he just closed his eyes to it and threw Cao Jiajia out to take the fall.
