Chapter 5 — Six-in-One Sugar Baby

I closed my eyes, unwilling to believe what I was seeing. I hoped it was all an illusion. Afraid that he might spit blood on the spot, I hurriedly added,

“I’m bankrupt.”

Another long silence followed. I lowered my head and waited for him to break up with me.

Instead, he stared at me without blinking. His voice came out through clenched teeth.

“That’s all?”

“You were prepared to become the other man, and that’s all you have to say?”

Good heavens. I clicked my tongue in amazement.

A wife’s status, with a mistress’s temperament. He really loved me enough to have it carved into his bones.

I was so moved that, for one brief second, I no longer wanted to break up with him.

Then I glanced at the expensive suit on Ta Tuy’s body, his broad shoulders and slim waist, and his profile more beautiful than any actor’s. I understood deeply that the gap between us could only be filled with cruel money.

I sighed regretfully.

“Let’s break up.”

Ta Tuy immediately switched into battle mode and gave me a cold, mocking smile.

“You want to dump me again?”

He leaned closer.

“Dream on.”

My eyes nearly fell into the open collar of his shirt. Smooth white collarbones and lightly rippling abs appeared beneath it. I swallowed and tried to drag my mind back to reason.

This man really had no idea what he was doing.

But my bank account was already in the red. I could not afford him anymore. I really could not.

Reluctantly, I reached out and touched his thigh one last time. Then I deliberately provoked him.

“To be fair, you look like a combination of my five ex-husbands.”

“Especially my white-moonlight first love. You look exactly like him.”

Could any man accept being treated as a replacement? The previous four had all run away in fright after hearing that line, so I was very confident this time too.

But Ta Tuy’s expression remained calm. The corners of his lips even curved upward.

“Then your taste really is remarkably consistent.”

“To reward you, the six of us have decided to pool our assets and support you instead.”

6

You do not know what it feels like to be supported until it happens to you. Once it did, I was stunned.

So this was what it felt like to be kept. Someone dressed me. Someone fed me. I no longer had to work. I could simply lie down and enjoy every day.

On Monday, the athlete came to wake me.

“Get up. Come exercise with me.”

He lifted me onto his shoulder with one hand while I was still wrapped in a small blanket. Breakfast had already been prepared and arranged neatly on the table. His full chest strained against his tight workout shirt, and even after his run, heat still radiated from him.

I rested my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arms around his neck. The muscles beneath my hands were firm and powerful.

Ah, good morning, beautiful body.

I rubbed my chin against his and made my sleepy voice sound spoiled.

“I spend all day standing at work. My legs are exhausted.”

“Let me rest a little longer, all right?”

He swallowed. In the end, he reluctantly tucked me back beneath the blanket. A small tray waited on the bed, with soy milk and dumplings arranged in perfect order.

“At least eat breakfast before you go back to sleep.”

On Tuesday, the doctor arrived on time to check my health. I held out my burned hand pitifully.

“I spilled coffee while serving a customer.”

He pressed his lips together and crouched down to apply medicine. His cold white coat brushed lightly against my calves, making me shiver.

His handsome face came close, his eyes beneath those long lashes both moist and serious. I touched his glasses. They were cold.

“Ah... so cold.”

I was about to pull my hand back when he caught my wrist in his warm hand. He looked up at me and suddenly fell silent.

The mask of indifference cracked, leaving only a surging desire. He leaned closer. With his breath close enough to feel, the doctor decisively removed his glasses.

Only then could I see his eyes clearly. Beneath the dim light, they were wild and stubborn.

At the moment his breath claimed mine, a cold voice sounded beside my ear.

“Focus, patient.”

On Wednesday night, the actor came home drunk and crawled beneath my blanket. A cool draft brushed my back before he wrapped his arms around me without the slightest attempt at politeness.

His head rested against my neck and shoulder, his warm breath brushing my collarbone.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”