Uyên’s new job had transformed her, and Vấn was surprised to find that she no longer displayed any signs of annoyance or weariness when being intimate with him. She seemed to be in a constant state of arousal. She appeared far more responsive to him than before, and she treated him with greater patience. At times, Vấn imagined he might actually be able to fully satisfy Uyên—at least on occasion—though he wasn't entirely sure. Uyên’s transformation delighted him at first, but as time went on, Vấn began to grow suspicious and found himself raising many questions.

Uyên’s peculiarities, though subtle, were impossible for Vấn to overlook. Certain positions or techniques she employed were entirely novel to him. Her gestures and actions seemed to have been imported from some outside source—caresses and acts of affection accompanied by strange, unfamiliar forms of stimulation. Even her laughter and the sounds she made while in his arms had undergone a change. Vấn had a distinct intuition that her newfound uninhibitedness during intimacy must have a root cause. And so he concluded—or rather, he *knew*—that Uyên was having an affair; that there was another man in her life.

No sensation is more agonizing for a man than the feeling of being cuckolded. A friend of Vấn’s had once told him exactly that while recounting the story of his own marriage’s collapse. Vấn had merely offered a smile of pity back then, never imagining that such a thing could ever happen to him. Accidents, misfortunes, and horrors of all kinds always seem like things that happen to *other* people—never to oneself—until the moment they actually strike. Vấn was perceptive enough to realize that Uyên was being unfaithful—that he had indeed been cuckolded—yet he could not bring himself to accept it fully; a part of him still clung to the hope that it wasn't true, desperately attempting to delude himself.

Perhaps he was simply being overly suspicious and jealous, seeing as Uyên had begun leaving early in the morning and returning late at night? Could Uyên’s changes be merely a matter of social obligation—that she still loved him, and everything remained just as it was? Vấn had sat for hours, trying to convince himself, searching for every possible excuse to vindicate Uyên. Yet, from the deepest recesses of Vấn’s soul—that place where his calculating, strictly rational nature held sway—he weighed the conflicting facts and conclusions. Vấn could do nothing other than accept the truth: he had, indeed, been cuckolded!

The only remaining issue was concrete proof—for Vấn, a man of exemplary propriety and meticulous method in all his dealings, felt compelled to see it with his own eyes, to witness it clearly so that not a shred of doubt could possibly linger. Vấn had hired a private investigator to tail Uyên for several consecutive days, and he awaited the man’s report like a condemned prisoner awaiting a death sentence. One afternoon, amidst a torrential downpour, he was at work when his secretary informed him that a Frank Rutter was insisting on speaking with him immediately. It was a matter of the utmost urgency—a private affair!

Vấn picked up the receiver. His heart pounded as if he had just run a grueling cross-country mile. His spirits sank instantly. Rutter spoke in a flat, detached tone—the voice of a man who performed this task every day, sounding utterly bored, as if this were nothing more than a mundane way to earn a living:

"I’m parked right outside the Holiday Inn. Your wife just went inside with another man. I followed them and saw them rent a room. Would you like to come over right now?"

Vấn asked in return, his voice cracking and barely audible, as if he had been winded:

"Are you absolutely sure? Is it definitely my wife?"

Rutter replied curtly:

"I cross-referenced her with the photo you gave me. There’s no mistake!"

"I’m on my way!"
 
He dropped the receiver and, as if fleeing from a ghost, bolted from his office, calling out over his shoulder as he rushed past his secretary’s desk in the outer room:

"I have to leave early!" Family matters!

The secretary watched in astonishment; for nearly eight years, Van had never left the office even half a minute early!

Van drove to the Holiday Inn, where he found Rutter waiting for him right at the entrance. Rutter said:

"They’ve rented Room 305. What do you want to do?"

Van had regained his composure during the drive from the bank to the hotel. He asked Frank Rutter in return:
 
"What do you think I should do?"

Rutter shrugged:

"That depends entirely on what you want. Do you simply want to know for certain, or do you want concrete evidence—photographic proof? The matter rests entirely on your decision!"

Van nodded and said to Rutter:

"I just want to know for certain. That’s all. However, I do want you to take a few photos when they leave the premises—close-ups, as well as shots that clearly show the Holiday Inn signage in the background."

Van sat inside Rutter’s car—parked on the opposite side of the street, directly across from the hotel’s main entrance—waiting for Uyen and for a glimpse of the man who had cuckolded him. In the back seat, Rutter had his camera—equipped with a state-of-the-art telephoto lens—ready to shoot. Van tried to clear his mind, yet the image of Uyen inside that hotel room, making love to a man who was not him, flashed vividly before his eyes.
 
Suddenly, Van felt a wave of nausea; he felt as though he were about to vomit. He could even perceive the pathetic nature of his own presence there—sitting with a private investigator poised to take photographs, waiting for Uyen and her lover to emerge from their hotel bedroom. Why didn't he simply fly into a rage—roaring like any other ordinary man—and storm in to catch the adulterous pair red-handed, letting the chips fall where they may? He even found himself wondering: why hadn't he simply done the tailing himself and then shot them both? Questions arose, and various courses of action were hypothesized...

 
Questions were raised, and various solutions hypothesized, yet Vấn knew he could not act rashly or thoughtlessly—actions that would ultimately prove self-destructive. He was neither hot-headed nor foolish enough to let everything come crashing down. He had already been wounded by Uyên’s infidelity; he could not allow that pain to deepen any further.

Rutter called out loudly:

"There they are!"

He snapped photos furiously. Vấn watched as Uyên wrapped her arms around the man’s waist; his heart skipped a beat, and his stomach clenched tight. The man who had cuckolded him was none other than Lữ—Uyên’s client, the very man preparing to go into business with him and his wife!

Uyên stood on her tiptoes to embrace Lữ around the neck, sharing a passionate, fervent kiss before each headed toward their respective cars. Vấn watched with bitter resentment. Had Uyên ever kissed him like that? The truth struck him suddenly, like the lash of a whip across his face. Uyên had never loved him; she had shared his bed, yet he had never possessed her heart.
 
His body went cold. Had Uyên once loved him only to grow tired of him now—seeking a new romance—perhaps Vấn would not be suffering so acutely in this moment. Instead, he was forced to confront the utter emptiness of his marriage: a union defined solely by his own unrequited love for Uyên.

Vấn watched Lữ’s retreating figure as he headed toward a white convertible Mercedes parked near the entrance. His enemy! Vấn made a swift decision. He would proceed with the business venture with Lữ, just as Uyên had discussed with him; the potential profits were simply too vast, too lucrative—he would be a fool to let such an opportunity slip away. Doing business with one’s enemy for the sake of profit was, after all, the mark of a shrewd man. Yet, Lữ would be made to pay a steep price for this grave insult.
 
Vấn watched Frank Rutter continue snapping photographs, and a sneer curled across his lips. Uyên and Lữ would remain oblivious to the fact that Vấn had uncovered their affair. Everything would proceed as usual, as if nothing untoward had ever occurred. Yet, step by step, he would ensnare Lữ in his trap—Lữ and Miriam, along with their colossal fortune and vast business empire. They would become prey choking within the tightening noose Vấn had fashioned. He would draw it taut ever so slowly, savoring the death throes of his enemies—a death a thousand times more agonizing than the swift release a bullet would have offered.

Vấn would never forgive; yet, in the execution of his vengeance, he intended to reap the maximum possible benefit. Only a fool acts in the heat of the moment merely to vent momentary rage, thereby inflicting further damage upon himself. Vấn sought to exact the most brutal retribution upon the man who had cuckolded him, but simultaneously, he demanded that this act of vengeance serve as a conduit for immense profit and personal advancement. Only then—as he watched his enemies writhe in their death throes—could he truly feel vindicated and take pride in his own cunning!

 
Chapter 19
 
Vấn did not know how he was supposed to treat Uyên. He was acutely aware of his own misfortune—whether he wanted to be or not. Vấn had become a cuckolded husband, and he knew it with absolute certainty. He now had to assume a new role in the drama that he and Uyên had scripted for their marriage. Vấn thought to himself with bitter irony: Is not every life merely a stage play? The only difference, perhaps, lies in whether the actor is conscious of the fact—whether they deceive themselves, in addition to putting on an act for those around them and for the outside world.

Vấn wondered: Now that he had seen with his own eyes Uyên and Lữ emerging from the hotel, to what extent would he be able to maintain his composure when he next encountered Uyên? How would he speak? How would he behave? A sudden surge of curiosity rose within Vấn. For a brief, fleeting moment, he felt a sense of detachment—as if he were a dispassionate bystander, calmly observing himself from a distance, coldly analyzing the couple that was "Vấn and Uyên," and scrutinizing the reactions of the cuckolded husband and the unfaithful wife.

Vấn smiled. Was there any husband quite like him? Why was he still capable of such detached analysis and self-examination? Why couldn't he simply be like other ordinary men, reacting in the standard way when faced with such circumstances? But then again—why *should* he be like anyone else? While having an unfaithful wife might be a common occurrence in life, for him, it was by no means a simple matter that could be reduced to a generic formula. This was a monumental tragedy in his life; how he chose to react to it was his own private affair—why should he question it or feel the need to justify himself?

Uyên walked through the door and began speaking in a rapid, ceaseless stream:

"It’s pouring outside! Did you get soaked coming home from work?" "I took this couple out to look at houses, but we got stuck in the rain and couldn't get back to the car; we had to wait forever before we could finally head home!"
 
Vấn simply stared at Uyên, saying nothing. What a truly deceitful woman! Had he not witnessed it with his own eyes—Uyên and Lữ walking out of the Holiday Inn with their arms around each other—he might have felt sympathy for his wife’s arduous work and loved her even more. Vấn took note, recalling the days when Uyên came home late—days when she was far more talkative and cheerful than usual. He had rejoiced in her happiness then, but now he knew the truth. Those flushed cheeks and that radiant smile were brought about by another man—not him.
 
And perhaps, at some point, they had laughed at him, turning him into a farce to mock and toy with, all to heighten their own thrill and gratification! Vấn suddenly flared with anger. His hands trembled slightly. He took a deep breath and composed himself. When Vấn finally spoke, he was surprised to find his voice remained outwardly calm—merely carrying a subtle, measured chill:

"Go change your clothes, then come eat. I’ve already prepared a few things. You just need to warm them up a little!"

Vấn poured himself a glass of wine. It had been a long time since he had touched a drop of alcohol. Vấn was not a heavy drinker; he only indulged on special occasions or when meeting with close friends. He gave a wry smile at himself. If today wasn't a "special occasion" for him, then what day could possibly be?

Uyên descended the stairs. Vấn looked at his wife and was stunned to realize he had never seen her look so beautiful. He had married Uyên because she was beautiful and alluring, yet after years of married life, Vấn had all but forgotten that fact. He remained conscious that he possessed a beautiful wife, but he had come to take it for granted—no longer a source of fresh excitement, nor something he felt the need to cherish and remind himself of every single moment of every day. Vấn was forced to confront a banal truth—one that felt almost like a cliché—namely, that his wife was truly stunningly beautiful, alluring, and seductive precisely when she was no longer his. She belonged to another man now. She had committed adultery and was no longer his possession.

It pained Vấn to realize that she had never looked as beautiful as she did today—at this very moment—fresh from an intimate encounter with a bastard who was, in every respect, even more despicable than he was, and who had ruthlessly cuckolded him. Vấn shook his head. He would deal with that adversary later. For now, the time had come to resolve matters between himself and Uyên first. Everything had its own time.

The meal was nearly over. Uyên chatted cheerfully about her day selling real estate—stories about the clients she had taken to view properties: people who appeared unremarkable on the surface yet were ready to pay cash for a massive house worth three or four hundred thousand; couples who insisted on touring luxury neighborhoods even though their combined income wouldn't be enough to buy a kitchen nook; and a few single men who had tried their hand at flirting with her. She chattered away incessantly, while Vấn sat in silence, eating and listening.
 
Several times, he had been on the verge of asking her about this afternoon—specifically about the Holiday Inn—intending to confront her directly and listen to her evasive denials, but each time, Vấn held back.

Vấn contemplated the consequences of letting Uyên know that he was fully aware of her infidelity. The inevitable outcome would be that Uyên would demand a divorce. Vấn did not want that to happen. He would suffer heavy losses; he would lose Uyên completely. And he would lose a portion of his assets—a substantial sum of money—something Vấn absolutely never wanted! He looked into Uyên’s eyes and said:

"I want to discuss something with you."