dkrc Chapter 532 Land That Cannot Be Plowed Out? That Doesn't Exist.
Chapter 532 Land That Cannot Be Plowed Out? That Doesn't Exist.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, the glaring sunlight stubbornly penetrated the gap in the curtains, like a golden probe, finally piercing Chen Wanyu awake from this extremely absurd yet extremely satisfying dream.
She instinctively tried to turn over, but her body protested sharply—her legs felt sore and heavy, as if they were filled with lead, or as if she had just run a marathon, and she had no strength left to even land properly.
She fumbled for her phone with difficulty, glanced at the time, and her heart sank: the flight she was in charge of had already soared into the sky and disappeared into the horizon.
With a helpless bitter smile, she could only endure the aches and pains that made her feel like her whole body was falling apart and dial the purser's number to ask for leave.
On the other end of the phone, the flight attendant, though restrained from raising her voice, spoke in an icy tone and delivered a chilling verdict of "deducting the full attendance bonus and monthly performance bonus according to regulations," every word filled with undisguised warning and dissatisfaction.
In the past, such a severe punishment would have been enough to make Chen Wanyu feel heartbroken and wronged, and she would have shed tears.
But at this moment, in her mind, this level of fine was not even a fraction of the red envelopes Ye Fan usually gave her as pocket money.
Putting down her phone, she turned to the "culprit" beside her with a hint of accusation, her eyes clearly saying: Can't you understand what it means to cherish a woman?
Ye Fan received this silent accusation, and somewhat guiltily touched the bridge of his nose, returning her a faint smile that was both apologetic and innocent.
However, what surprised him the most was that after only a few hours of deep sleep, his terrifying, almost superhuman, recovery ability was back to its maximum!
A familiar, aggressive restlessness was rising again in my lower abdomen.
He was incredibly energetic, even... somewhat savoring the moment.
He wasn't sure if this was a physical transformation brought about by rebirth or some kind of invisible "golden finger" blessing him. In any case, he now felt radiant and energetic enough to fight another "tough battle".
"You...you can still laugh..."
Chen Wanyu rolled her eyes in a charmingly irritated manner, her voice still carrying a unique husky and languid quality: "What are you made of? Steel bars? Titanium alloy? I was half asleep, and you...you woke me up without giving me a chance to catch my breath."
She tried to move her body and immediately gasped, "Hiss... I can barely walk without a limp like a duck..."
She recalled the old saying—"There are only exhausted oxen, not plowed fields."
But how come this ancient teaching is completely ineffective or even reversed when it comes to Ye Fan?
She recalled her initial ambition to "stand out from the crowd," and now she felt it was naive and laughable, like an ant trying to shake a tree.
If Ye Fan maintained this inhuman, tireless fighting power every time, she felt that she might really not live much longer.
The moment this thought arose, the slight bitterness that would occasionally rise in her heart when Ye Fan had other women around him was replaced by an unprecedented and incredibly genuine sense of relief and liberation!
"It seems... I'll have to let Yun Shu share the firepower more often in the future..." Chen Wanyu thought to herself with a mixture of helplessness and sincerity.
The previous persistence in "being devoted" crumbled instantly in the face of harsh reality and worries about one's own "survival".
She was even more grateful than ever before that Ye Fan wasn't the kind of stubborn, "devoted" man—otherwise, she probably would never be able to work normally again in her life, given her beloved job as a flight attendant.
She needs a "firefighter," the sooner the better!
Despite her body sending strong protest signals, Chen Wanyu couldn't help but feel a sweet suspicion rising in her heart.
Ye Fan was indeed very strong in the past.
But the kind of tireless, almost "perpetual motion machine" performance that last night until the early hours of the morning, which seemed to have broken through the limits of human physical ability, really refreshed her understanding of the upper limit.
While grimacing and rubbing her aching, trembling knees, she secretly glanced at Ye Fan as he dressed, a little vanity and a touch of smug delight creeping into her heart.
"Could it be that because we've been apart for so long, my charm has skyrocketed? That's why he's acting like he's discovered a rare treasure, performing at an extraordinary level?"
As soon as the thought crossed Chen Wanyu's mind, the corners of her mouth immediately seemed to be pulled upwards by an invisible thread, and she couldn't help but smile wildly.
All those tearful accusations, like "the ox that's worn out from plowing" or "the land that's been over-plowned," were instantly forgotten by her.
She now felt that Ye Fan's sweet words back then hadn't lied to her at all—she really was the most special, the most pampered, and the only one who could inspire his potential!
Ye Fan had no idea that the girl had already completed a perfectly logical and sweet "self-conquest" in her mind.
He walked barefoot and briskly toward the bathroom.
The warm water washed over the well-defined skin, cleansing away the fatigue and lingering heat of the night.
When he changed his clothes, he habitually fastened the understated yet luxurious Vacheron Constantin Patrimony watch on his wrist. The dark alligator leather strap and deep blue dial reflected a restrained yet expensive gleam on his wrist.
The top is simply a loose, pure white cotton T-shirt of excellent quality and perfect tailoring, paired with a pair of dark-colored cargo pants with a stiff fit.
This combination looks casual and simple, even giving off a clean and refreshing neighborhood vibe.
However, Ye Fan's near-perfect inverted triangle physique with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, as well as his handsome face with perfect proportions, as if sculpted by an artist, were irresistible.
As the widely circulated truth goes: when one's looks and temperament reach a certain level, even if one is wearing a snakeskin bag, one can still exude the aura of top haute couture walking on the Milan runway.
Stepping into the kitchen, he opened the huge, built-in double-door refrigerator. There weren't many ingredients inside, but they were of excellent quality—several beautifully marbled, thick M9-grade marbled steaks, and a small box of handmade Italian wide noodles.
Ye Fan rolled up his T-shirt sleeves, revealing his well-defined forearms, his movements as practiced as a Michelin-starred chef: lighting the fire, heating the pan, melting the butter...
As the thick steak sizzles enticingly in the hot butter, the rich, smoky aroma of caramelized meat instantly fills the air, as if awakening dormant taste buds.
Before long, two steaks, pan-fried to a perfect crisp on the outside and tender on the inside, juicy and flavorful, were served on the softly lit restaurant table, paired with handmade pasta coated in a rich sauce and with a chewy texture.
At this moment, Chen Wanyu, enduring the soreness and weakness as if she had been run over by a heavy truck, leaned against the wall and slowly made her way to the restaurant.