Chapter 231: A Bet
“I don’t agree. If they get back together, both of them will be in trouble. Huong Tra will have to suffer in silence, with a relationship kept secret. Minh Nhat risks his career if the paparazzi find out.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Let’s just see what happens tonight. If they end up together—then there’s hope. If not, you win.”
“Why does it always have to be a competition?”
Toan Phuong mulled it over for a bit, then tried to coax Kieu Ly:
“How about a bet? If I win, you owe me five rounds tonight. If I lose, I owe you five.”
Kieu Ly was starting to feel like her husband truly had the thickest skin on Earth. Even when making a bet, he couldn’t keep things serious. She gave him a mock pout:
“What kind of bet is that when both outcomes end in your favor?”
“Haha. I’m a capitalist, babe—I don’t do unprofitable business.”
“If you win, you get five rounds. If you lose, you get nothing—tonight’s a dry night. How’s that sound?”
Toan Phuong paused to consider, then nodded in agreement.
“Deal.”
After that, he leaned down to kiss Kieu Ly—partly to satisfy his craving, partly to calm her mood. This was the second time they’d had a difference in opinion—and both times, it was about someone else’s relationship. He didn’t understand why, when it came to their own issues, Kieu Ly always let him decide, or made decisions that favored him. He didn’t like that she was always yielding. But now that she was openly expressing her opinions, it actually gave him a sense of relief.
After the shower, Toan Phuong was visibly restless. He kept checking his phone and finally texted Minh Nhat:
“You sober yet?”
But there was no reply.
He unlocked his phone again and again, typing messages only to delete them before sending. If Minh Nhat had sobered up, he was likely busy... doing “stuff.” If not, he was probably passed out cold. Either way, texting wouldn’t help.
Toan Phuong grew more anxious by the minute, while Kieu Ly remained calm as ever, quietly sitting at her vanity and blow-drying her hair.
His anxiety grew. How could you expect anything from a guy who passed out cold after just a few drinks? If he lost this bet, he’d have to go without tonight—and that, to Toan Phuong, was just unbearable. At least if they hadn’t bet, he could’ve negotiated one “passionate round.”
Unable to hold back, he moved over to help her dry her hair, but she gently refused. Still, he shamelessly sat beside her, reaching out to touch her—only to have her calmly brush his hand away.
What a fool, he thought. No two kinds of stupidity are the same, but this one’s all mine.
With nothing else to do, he plopped down on the bed and started rewatching the concert videos that had been posted all over the internet. As he watched, he was struck by how generously the cameraman had captured his moments. Even when he walked up to give the purple rose to Kieu Ly, the cameraman followed him the entire way.
No wonder, he thought. When you’re from the richest corporation in the country, even night footage looks like it was shot in broad daylight.
When Kieu Ly stood up and took the flower from him—it was a picture-perfect moment. She looked like an angel in her pure white dress, and he, dressed all in black, like a mysterious knight. The scene was more romantic than a proposal. Just a flower exchange, and yet the internet was losing its mind.
In the comments, some viewers had already identified Kieu Ly—and from there, they’d guessed that the masked man was Toan Phuong. So much for hiding his identity.
Suddenly, he felt guilty—he’d unintentionally stolen the spotlight from Minh Nhat.
Deep down, he truly hoped Minh Nhat would be able to hold on to his love. Lately, he had this sinking feeling: If Minh Nhat didn’t step up soon, he’d lose Huong Tra for good.
That’s why he had gone through all this trouble—to create one last chance for them.
Once her hair was dry, Kieu Ly set the blow dryer down and slowly picked up her phone to text Huong Tra:
"You home yet?"