“We’ve knocked on the preparatory office’s door a hundred times, and still no one gives us a response to our proposal!”

In the hotel room, Mike slammed the documents heavily onto the table, his voice cracking like muffled thunder. “Even a curse would be better than this silence!”

Randy lay half-sprawled on the bed, lazily blowing out a smoke ring as if listening to some idle tale. “Brother, what’s the rush? Will losing your temper change anything? Some things… you just have to leave to fate.”

Mike clenched his jaw, but with nowhere to vent his anger, he dropped onto a chair.

He shot Randy a look—half envious, half mocking. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got a woman in your arms every night. Poor me… all I’ve got is chatting with Lea to chase away the loneliness.”

When he mentioned Lea, his tone softened unconsciously. That girl really was something different.

“Oh right,” Mike suddenly asked, “that day with your so-called Tantra moves—was that real?”

Randy burst into laughter, flicking his ash into the tray. “You actually believed that? I don’t know a damn thing about Tantra—it’s all an act, just to impress women. If I really had such mystical skills, I’d be meditating in the mountains, not fighting over projects with mortals like you.”

He smirked, then his voice dipped lower. “But Fonda… she believed it. You don’t know—she’s had it rough.”

The room grew quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioner.

“Her husband ditched her because she couldn’t have children. Went to the city, found another woman—now their kid’s already crawling. Fonda was crushed. Since then, she started… well, seeing men. Almost every bachelor in this town has been with her. Once, she even caused two brothers to fall out over her.”

Mike whistled. “No wonder the women here all despise her.”

“Exactly.” Randy nodded. “But she’s got her own rules—never two men at once, only one at a time. That’s why she’s still tolerated here.”

Mike leaned back, turmoil churning in his chest. Fonda’s laughter in the KTV, her eyes catching his under the violet light—what part of it was real?

And then, like a tide rising unbidden, he thought of Lotus.

The woman who connected with him through words alone. Words that were never enough, yet somehow touched his heart. He remembered one of her posts—The Seven-Year Itch.

“What is the underlying logic of marriage? Smart women use sex, family, and duty to exploit men, turning them into beasts of burden and ATMs. Smart men use money and security to bind women, making them cooks and servants. In the end? Foolish men get drained by clever women; foolish women get controlled by clever men. But even the foolish awaken eventually. And when they do, they begin to break free, seeking liberation. That, to me, is the essence of the ‘seven-year itch.’”

Mike’s heart lurched.

He suddenly saw it clearly: his marriage with Amanda was twisted from the start. He worked himself to the bone, while Amanda stood like a taskmaster, whip in hand. His insecurity and her relentlessness had woven together into a suffocating pattern—one that neither of them could escape.

The shrill ring of his phone shattered the thought.

It was Alex, his childhood friend. “Where’ve you been, man? Haven’t seen you in the chatrooms lately.”

“I’m on a business trip. Some backwater town.”

“Ah, that explains it. Listen—Lotus has been posting like crazy these past few days. Almost one every day. All about longing and missing someone. We’ve been teasing her, saying she’s acting like a love-struck teenager.”

Mike’s chest tightened. “What? But I couldn’t reach her on the phone…”

“She told me her daughter broke her phone. Said you were too busy to talk. Honestly, I think she’s lying. Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” Mike shook his head, “I’ve just been away with colleagues. Not convenient to log in. Don’t worry.”

As soon as the call ended, Mike opened his laptop.

There it was—Lotus’s latest post:

“It’s been too long since I gazed properly at the night sky. The moon, nearly full yet still imperfect, like a tilted silver plate. The heavens were flawless blue, without a single cloud, only a handful of stars scattered unevenly. The sky became an ocean, the stars tiny sails, the boats drifting silently… I imagined the people aboard those boats, savoring the same peace.”

Mike’s eyes grew damp. He quickly typed a reply:

“The bright moon over the sea, though miles apart, we share this moment.”

Just then, his phone buzzed.

It was a message from Lea: “Mike, tomorrow’s the weekend. Do you have time? I’d like to invite you to my village’s tea garden. The oolong I grow there is really good.”

Warmth spread through him, his lips curving into a smile. But before he could reply, another notification popped up.

It was Lotus. “A single word carries endless longing, yet two swallows return together.”

Mike typed back quickly: “Enough poetry. I’m stuck here chasing the client. Might take two more weeks. Randy’s with me, so I can’t talk much. Take care of yourself.”

Lowering his phone, Mike sat motionless.

In that moment, he knew: from tonight on, his world was bound to become far more complicated.