Chapter 7 — Wife, I Can Be Your Substitute

7During the days in the hospital, I personally cooked chicken soup for him. Mr. Tan criticized while eating: "Too bad, not as good as Duong Duong's egg fried rice." I remained silent. Is it possible that your taste is like eating things that are burned so black that you can't see their shape? I helped him massage, he closed his eyes, his tone was cold but still full of confidence: "Your skills are not bad, give me a raise." I clenched my fist, forcing myself to suppress the urge to punch him in the face. Finally waiting for the day to be discharged from the hospital. Because he had to sign a contract with his partner, Mr. Tan completed the hospital discharge procedures himself. When I got home that night, I was exhausted. After showering, I just wanted to lie down on the bed and go to sleep. He pulled me up again, his face cold and heartless: "You are my canary, now you must do what you should do." I pushed his hand away, lazily asked: "What?" He was serious, his neck stiff: "Serve your golden master." The corner of my mouth twitched. Today I just signed a five million contract, where do you get the confidence to say you are my golden boss? I glanced at him, curled my lips: "Isn't the person you love the most Duong Duong? You still want to go to bed with me? Don't you feel embarrassed?" Hearing that, Mr. Tan blushed to the tips of his ears. He put his hands on his hips and replied eloquently: "You and I are not making love, but... hating." I really want to hit you. In the end, Mr. Tan really pushed me down... to hate me. That night, I felt like a fried fish, flipping back and forth, fried to a crispy golden brown on both sides. He moved and caressed my face, his voice low: "You and Duong Duong are not alike at all." I rolled my eyes, almost breaking the atmosphere. At an important moment, why would you ruin the atmosphere? When it was all finally over, I fell asleep exhausted, and he held me in his arms, a look of contentment on his face. The next morning, I woke up drowsy. Mr. Tan woke up early, put on a pure white shirt, and was buttoning it up. He waved his hand and threw a black card down on my bed: "Last night was very good, this is your reward." My forehead showed blue veins. Once you recover your memory, I will definitely settle this debt. Fortunately, that opportunity did not come too late. Going out the door, because he stepped with his left foot first, he missed a step and fell down. So, just after being discharged from the hospital, he was — again — admitted to the hospital again. The doctor in charge looked at us coldly: "If you don't want to live anymore, you can try other methods. If you intentionally hit your head, the death rate is very low." I embarrassedly promised: "Next time it won't be like that again." Looking at Mr. Tan sitting on the hospital bed again, I could only put my hand on my forehead and smile bitterly. This time, I was really worried that he would spit out something like: "Woman, you are playing with fire." Luckily this time, Mr. Tan was much better. I couldn't help but laugh: "Give me a reward? Now I'm getting retribution, right?" He nodded, looking dumbfounded. I squinted my eyes: "What's wrong? The memory has come back?" His eyes wavered, his fingertips gently poked each other, his voice was soft: "Wife, before that it was because my brain was broken... can you please not accept me?" I stared at him, moved forward in a funny way, my finger lifted his chin, word by word interrogating: "What am I? A canary, hm?" "I have to serve my golden master, and I have to 'make a grudge' with you, right?" "Do you still want to pay me?" With each sentence, Mr. Tan's face turned a little whiter. He clutched the bed sheet tightly, his voice trembling: "If I lose my memory again now... is it still enough?" I curled my lips and smiled faintly: "What do you think?" As a result, for the next seven days, I didn't let him step into my bed once. He carried back countless large and small bags full of luxury items, and even bought a new version of a camera. I hugged the camera, happily not letting go. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek: "Wife, your anger is gone

I squinted my eyes and smiled: "Looks like you're reasonable." Actually, losing your memory isn't necessarily a bad thing. The seed of secret love from when you were a teenager, didn't germinate until the fifth year of marriage.