Conspiracy

Jiang Jiahe will always remember the day of her eighteenth birthday celebration. Her parents, who had been giving each other the silent treatment for over a week, took the day off and came to her school together. They donated a whole science building to the school in their own names. It was spring, and white magnolias were in bloom on campus, their faint fragrance lingering in the air. Onstage, though he was nearing fifty, her father looked refined, with elegant features and graceful manners. Beside him stood his wife in a pale green silk qipao, beautiful and gentle. Jiang Jiahe listened as her classmates voiced their envy. Some envied her family background; others envied her parents’ striking looks and talent. She smiled coldly to herself. Perhaps no one knew that not long ago, her parents had had a huge fight, leaving antique ornaments shattered all over the house. - Jiang Jiahe had always assumed her parents had married because of an unplanned pregnancy. They didn’t seem to have much affection for each other, and in their daily life they treated each other with formal courtesy. That was until the night she was filling out her college applications. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When she got up to use the bathroom, she discovered a nearly empty box of condoms on the living room sofa. She had no idea when it had appeared. Reader’s Guide: Primarily told from the daughter’s perspective, focusing on how her parents’ relationship changes through her eyes. The emotional arcs of the daughter and her parents unfold side by side. Older man, younger woman: 40 x 47. Not-actually-siblings. The male and female leads are not related by blood, and they aren’t registered in the same household. A slow-burn slice-of-life story. Don’t expect much logic; it’s basically a sweet romance. Please don’t offer any kind of writing advice. My other novel, Accomplices, is now underway. If you’re interested, please check it out. When Zhou Wei was touching himself to a photo of me, I was standing right behind him. This shy admirer was the man I’d married after a blind date. Every morning, he looked at me with those sticky, clinging eyes, like a damp snake winding itself around every inch of my skin. One day after we were married, I thought I’d found the secret he’d hidden in his bedside table. Inside were all the intimate clothes I’d lost, along with a diary whose title page had yellowed with age. On the last page was a line: My wife smells so good. She smiled at me again today. I think I’m about to lose control. I really want to keep her by my side, where she can’t go anywhere. Reader’s Guide: First-person narration. Written to indulge my kinks; free to read and not contracted. Theme: Acknowledge the emotional needs of middle-aged people.