That night, I threw on a skimpy, lace-trimmed nightgown I’d bought ages ago and marched straight into Qin Siyu’s guest bedroom like a woman on a mission. Ever since we got married, he’d insisted on sleeping in separate rooms under the pretext of “not disturbing my rest.” If my math was correct, we hadn’t even shared a proper hug in two weeks.

Qin Siyu had just stepped out of the shower. Toweling his damp hair dry, he froze when he spotted me sitting on his bed. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was as detached as ever, but internally, I couldn’t help appraising him. Damn, the man is absolute eye candy. Broad shoulders, a trim waist, and crisp, sculpted abs peeking through his loosely tied bathrobe. Too bad this high-end item was strictly display-only. Judging by that high bridge of his nose and those long, elegant fingers, his “equipment” couldn’t possibly be disappointing.

With that thought in mind, I launched a preemptive strike. “I’m sleeping here tonight.” Come hell or high water, I was reaping some physical rewards tonight!

Qin Siyu caught his breath, his dark eyes flickering down to my sheer nightgown before he answered in a low, gravelly voice. “Okay.”

Under the soft amber glow of the nightlight, my heart thudded against my ribs. But the moment I wrapped my arms around his waist, his entire body went rigid. A beat later, he looked down at me, his voice raspy with restraint. “Do you… need a hand?”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and pulled open his nightstand drawer.

Every drop of romantic tension instantly evaporated. Sure enough, a second later, he produced a single latex finger cot.

I snatched it, threw it right back in his face, and let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “Need a hand? A hand?! You absolute prudish bastard!”

Maybe because I was genuinely livid, my voice hit a sharp, icy edge. Qin Siyu’s gaze suddenly turned dangerously intense, burning with a heat that was almost terrifying. But I was far too heartbroken and humiliated to care.

“Qin Siyu, if you’re impotent, just say it! There’s a whole world of men out there. I don’t need to tie myself to a dead tree! We’re married! What gives you the right to treat me like you’re handing out charity every single time?!”

“That’s not what I meant,” he rasped out.

Yet he didn’t take a single step forward. No embrace. No kiss.

My third attempt at offering myself up on a silver platter had ended in utter disaster. The last ember of warmth in my chest died out. Grabbing my coat, I spun on my heel, marched out, and slammed the bedroom door behind me.

At my best friend Lin Nan’s apartment, I threw my head back and slammed down a glass of bitter liquor.

“Why won’t Qin Siyu lay a finger on me?!” I vented, practically shrieking. “Is he not into women or something?!”

“No way,” Lin Nan countered, shaking her head. “Back in high school, he shot down every single girl who confessed to him without batting an eye.”

My eyes narrowed as a bitter realization washed over me. “Could it be… he’s keeping himself pure because he’s still hung up on my sister?”

After all, rumors floated around back then that Qin Siyu harbored a secret flame for the gentle, refined eldest heiress of the Le family. And this marriage only happened because I stepped in after she eloped with her lover.

Over the past six months, he’d doted on me in every conceivable way, except in bed. Even when he “helped” me, his face remained a mask of cool, icy restraint. Not a single trace of desire ever breached those dark eyes.

I stared down at the amber liquid in my glass. Maybe he really did find me repulsive.

The thought sent a sudden rush of blood to my brain. All the hurt I’d tried to bury ignited into a full-blown fury. SLAM! I slammed the glass down on the coffee table.

“I’ve made up my mind!”

Lin Nan jumped, startled by the noise. “Made up your mind about what?”

“A divorce!”

No matter how drop-dead gorgeous a man is, if he’s useless in bed, he’s getting kicked to the curb. Especially when he’s keeping a “white moonlight” like my sister stashed away in his heart. I’m Le Shu, as if I’m short on men!

When I woke up the next morning, my neck was covered in bright red scratches, courtesy of Lin Nan’s ridiculously long nails while she thrashing around in her sleep. The moment I unlocked my phone, a barrage of frantic unread messages from Qin Siyu flooded my screen.

…

When I finally dragged myself back to the villa, Qin Siyu was actually home, which was a rare sight for a weekday morning.

The living room reeked of heavy tobacco smoke, and the crystal ashtray was overflowing with spent cigarette butts. At the sound of the front door opening, he raised his head. Under the sharp chandelier lights, his striking, chiseled features carried an overwhelming sense of pressure.

“You’re back?” His voice was terribly raw and hoarse.

But the exact second his eyes landed on the bright red marks scattered across my neck, his pupils contracted. His face darkened instantaneously to a stormy, terrifying pitch.

Seeing him part his lips to speak, I raised a dismissive hand, cutting him off before he could start. “I’m exhausted from last night. I’m going upstairs to sleep.”

I wasn’t joking. This time, I genuinely wanted out.

After all, a sexless marriage is like eating hot pot without any dipping sauce, it won’t starve you to death, but it’s a miserable, infuriating way to live.