Chapter 3

My physical care was meticulous, and I never relaxed my mental and physiological manipulation either.

However, from the day I confirmed his affair, my body had completely shut him out.

Every touch physically repulsed me.

But that didn't stop me from keeping him in a state of insatiable hunger, high arousal, yet utterly unsatisfied by me.

I began deliberately changing my information consumption habits.

My browser history would occasionally show pages for adult novelty stores and niche lingerie brands.

The search bar on my shopping apps would be filled with keywords like 'sexy,' 'seductive,' 'couple's intimacy.'

Big data algorithms are ruthless and efficient. Soon, not just my phone, but the shared household tablet, and even Leo's own phone, began popping up with related recommendations.

Ads for barely-there lingerie, promotions for all sorts of bizarre products, and even short video clips disguised as 'tutorials' but actually quite explicit.

At first, Leo would awkwardly swipe them away, scolding: "What kind of rubbish are you looking at all day?"

But the light in his eyes didn't lie.

I wouldn't argue, simply responding in a shyer, more innocent tone: "Oh, I just clicked on it by accident. This big data is so annoying…"

My tone and expression were like a child who had just discovered a new world, both scared and curious.

This blend of innocence and forbidden suggestion was more impactful than any direct seduction.

Leo's Adam's apple bobbed. His gaze at me grew complex, holding surprise, suspicion, but mostly an undeniable, aroused desire.

I created a new, anonymous social media account, with no connections to anyone we knew. Then, I 'accidentally' let Leo discover it.

Consequently, bolder, more explicit images, links, and short videos began to 'casually' appear in our lives.

I never said, "Let's try this." I just asked, "Does this look good?" or "Is this useful?" leaving the space for choice and imagination entirely to him.

His body, ravaged by alcohol, high-fat diets, and irregular sleep, secreted untimely hormones of excitement.

I knew he forwarded most of those pictures and links to Eve.

Because I had inadvertently seen Eve's replies pop up on his phone: "You devil, so kinky?!"

"Buy it! I want the black one!"

"This looks wild, let's try it next time!"

Their interactions, thanks to my unseen contribution, grew more passionate, more brazen.

I could even imagine how Eve was using these 'new toys' to desperately please and bind Leo to her.

This was exactly what I wanted.

However, merely adding fuel to their fire from afar wasn't enough. I needed this fire to burn more wildly, consuming him even faster.

The opportunity soon arose.

Eve was even more impulsive than I'd imagined.

Perhaps my changes made her feel threatened, or maybe Leo's recent physical discomfort made him less capable, causing her anxiety.

She actually used a seemingly ordinary anonymous account to send me a SnapChat friend request. The message read: "Hey, thinking of trying out some new skincare? Let me know!"

I looked at the profile picture and name and almost burst out laughing.

Such a petty trick.

I clicked "Accept."

She started sending me occasional skincare ads, her tone enthusiastic and humble.

I would occasionally reply with a bland "Hmm," or "I'll take a look," my attitude cool but polite.

I posted on Ins, setting the privacy to 'custom visibility,' meaning only she could see it.

The first photo was a lavish dinner I had cooked, captioned:

"Hubby's been working hard lately, so I'm nourishing him. He ate all of my loving dinner!~"

The second was a profile shot of me wiping Leo's sweat after his run, captioned:

"Accompanying hubby on his night run. Even though he's fast, I'll always be at the finish line waiting for him."

The third showed a corner of our closet, vaguely revealing an adult novelty item, captioned:

"Oh dear, my package arrived by accident, so embarrassing… I'll surprise him when he gets back!"

Every Ins post was precisely targeted.

Sure enough, Leo's "overtime" hours suddenly increased, and the timing became even more ridiculous. Sometimes he wouldn't come home all night.

When he returned, his face bore the exhaustion of overindulgence, his eyes bruised, but his spirit had an unnatural high.

Besides his usual cologne, he sometimes carried the mixed scent of cheap essential oils or other strange fragrances.

And whenever he received certain calls, looking hurried and about to leave, I would express just the right amount of disappointment, but quickly replace it with an understanding smile.

"More overtime? Go on, don't work too hard."

Or, before he left, I would gently pull him back, my face flushed, saying in a voice only we could hear:

"My… my new nightgown arrived. Will you… come home early tonight?"