Chapter 34 You Never Age

Maggie wasn't in a good mood, even though she was trying her best to restrain herself. The pain of separation and death was rooted in her heart, an enduring trauma.
Harold looked at her as if seeing through her thoughts, "When did it happen?"
"In high school," she replied, burying her head in the soup, declining to say anything more.
Two police cars whizzed by the front of the restaurant, sirens echoing through the street.
At the neighboring table, a person smoked a ten-dollar pack of cigarettes, the secondhand smoke choking the air, "They've been cracking down for half a year, and the public safety is still like this. Which place got robbed again?"
His friend chimed in, "Yeah, that place. They opened a new entertainment complex nearby, attracting a lot of drunks and troublemakers. They target single women returning home at night. A couple went missing recently, and the patrol cars have doubled."
"Is it true?"
The conversation reached Harold's ears. He put down his wooden chopsticks and looked at Maggie blowing on the hot noodle soup, her cheeks turning pink from the steam, like a freshly peeled lychee.
In the Red Valley, by the window, he had done all the exertion while selling his strength, yet this girl had an even better appetite than him.
"Have you found a place to live?"
"I just moved here, less than two weeks ago. I had to pay double the agency fee for this apartment, so I don't plan on looking for another one."
Harold raised an eyebrow. "How much was the agency fee?"
"One thousand."
He didn't respond, but waited for her to finish eating before getting up to pay.
Maggie stood under the street lamp, holding a bottle of golden yellow wine, waiting for him.
The boss unveiled a pot of boiling bone soup, and the hot steam dispersed like a rushing fountain, enveloping the man's statuesque figure.
His back was broad, his waist narrow, and his sky-blue shirt neatly fitted. His profile was distinct, exuding a rugged masculinity.
In the vicinity of the water tank boiler room, the steam turned into a different kind of tranquility, with a warm and mellow aroma.
"You don't have to give me a ride," Maggie said, not wanting to delay him. "It's just a few steps away."
Harold repeated, "Get in the car."
She sat back in the car, and the man handed her a hard card with a handwritten address and a series of phone numbers on it.
"Find some free time and move there."
Maggie was surprised, her fingers twisting white. "I don't want it. We don't have that kind of relationship."
He furrowed his brows. "What kind of relationship?"
"I don't sell myself."
"Who said you were selling?" he blurted out.
Harold's anger surged but he swallowed it down. "I'm unmarried, you're single, even if there are entanglements, what's the problem?"
Maggie grabbed the car door handle, but he moved faster, and the car lock clicked shut, preventing her from escaping.
"Mayor Williams," her voice was as gentle as the spring rain. "This is how we are, it's fine."
He pursued his career, a different person from Matt, who was carefree and unrestrained.
Maggie knew well that in her previous marriage, she had been too naive and gave away too much. She had hit a wall once and ended up with a broken head and blood flowing. She had learned her lesson.
She indulged in desire, but her heart was like a tight string, unwilling to cross any boundaries.
"Am I ugly?"
Maggie turned her head, confused. "No."
The car was warm, and he was sweaty. The scent of rose shower gel on his body was strong. "Am I old?"
There was a decade-long age difference between them, but his sharp and profound features didn't make him appear old.
At the crucial moment of releasing desire, his tight muscles tensed, exuding a captivating masculine hormone. He was no more than a twenty-year-old boy.
Maggie's ears reddened, shaking her head. "Still no."
Harold caressed her palm. "Then don't reject me, Maggie."
Maggie went upstairs in a daze, tightly holding the card in her hand, feeling its warmth, and pulled back the curtain to look down.
Harold in the driver's seat had sensed something, honking the horn in response before starting the car and driving away.
...
The next day, Harold went to the city hall, where Jake happened to be reporting on the city-wide fire safety and security operations.
The two encountered each other in front of Building 5, with people coming and going. Jake was in his formal police uniform, and the badge on his hat sparkled in the sunlight. He greeted him warmly as a gentle breeze.
"Harold, you're looking great. Is something exciting happening?"
The nourishment of desire is mutual; even a man can be invigorated by it, a rosy complexion can enliven a person.
Harold brushed the cigarette from the corner of his lips, a faint smile on his face, not taking his bait. "Did you come all the way here just to confront me?"
"Yeah, looking for a place to drink tonight."
He waved his hand to politely decline, "Alcohol ravages the heart and willpower. Drinking too much leads to foolishness and drunken ramblings."
"I'll pretend to be drunk just to hear your drunken ramblings." Jake's gaze was sharp, "Heather has returned from Havenport. Women have delicate faces, afraid you're too busy to invite her out. It's a significant event in life, I have to help my sister make arrangements."
Harold smiled faintly, "Mr. Lopez has quite a diverse business."
"Don't tease me." Jake had a straightforward personality, "Will you come or not?"
"I can't leave. The Provincial Political Consultative Conference inspection team is coming to Radiant City to conduct research later. I have to arrange everything first, then we can make plans."
Using official duties as an excuse, Jake couldn't find fault with him, so he didn't insist. Harold went upstairs to his office, where a cup of wild cola had been brewed on the desk.
He had a pot of gentleman orchids on his desk, with only a few yellowing leaves left, and the pot was filled with cigarette butts.
Leo came in to report on his work and handed him a familiar letter.
It was the complaint letter that Rob filed against the Governor of State X at the cultural exchange meeting.