"Did Anderson bring Amanda here for a car tryst, a wild escapade?" Michael glanced back at the parking lot entrance. "Should I drive in? Otherwise, we won’t see if they’re doing anything in the car..."

Emily shook her head. "No need, I have a plan." She refreshed her watch's location tracker, noting Anderson's car had come to a stop. "The watch has an 'ambient sound listening' feature..."

As she explained, she pressed the 'Listen' button in the app, showing Michael the prompt. "Once activated, the watch will call your phone. You can hear the sounds around the watch but cannot converse."

Michael raised an eyebrow, noticing the mischievous glint in Emily's eyes. "So, it's basically eavesdropping," she admitted with a hint of cunning.

Michael gave her a thumbs-up and laughed. "If you ever give up being a food blogger, you could join me in 're-employment'."

Emily finally managed a faint smile and handed Michael one of her Bluetooth earbuds. They guessed correctly—the couple was still in the car. The watch's deep concealment caused fluctuating audio levels, especially with Anderson's voice being sometimes inaudible, whereas Amanda's was much clearer. Emily didn't forget to record.

The illicit lovers called each other "baby," and Amanda even coquettishly addressed Anderson as "husband" several times, leaving Emily both distressed and trembling. She glanced at Michael, whose face had darkened further.

Surprisingly, they didn't get intimate in the car. Amanda had suddenly gotten her period that morning, apologizing and promising to make it up to him later. A long silence followed, with only occasional kisses and Amanda’s murmurs telling her “baby” not to kiss too hard, or she’d feel uncomfortable.

Understanding their activities, Michael was infuriated, moments away from storming into the parking lot to confront Anderson. However, he knew Emily was suffering more from these explicit conversations. Aware the watch couldn’t transmit their voices, he suggested, "Maybe we should stop. Recordings aren't strong evidence anyway. Let’s end it here?"

Emily rubbed her aching nose and gave a bitter smile. "I can endure a bit more."

Though there were only sounds, Emily's mind conjured vivid images of her husband and Amanda, passionately entangled in the car. Nausea churned within her chest, her mouth dry, feeling the urge to vomit.

Noticing her pallor, Michael quickly handed her a piece of chocolate from their morning grocery run. "Have a bite, you don’t want low blood sugar."

Feeling unwell, Emily accepted, biting into it. Her action, unaware at first, seemed intimate like a shared piece of chocolate. Michael paused, placing the rest in the cup holder.

As their conversation grew more explicit, Michael and Emily understood what was happening. Men have a tendency to assert dominance, even in affairs. Anderson suddenly asked, "Just squeezing your n*ppl*s makes you this weak? Hmm? Hasn't your man been satisfying you? Still finishing quickly?"

Emily’s mind went blank. Such a short sentence contained so much information! She felt a complex mix of emotions, her pale cheeks flushing faintly. Glancing sideways, she saw Michael’s intense reaction: his brows furrowed, jaw clenched, and veins throbbing as his fists tightened.

Emily wanted to stop listening. "Maybe we should stop here... We shouldn’t listen anymore..."

Before she could hang up, Amanda’s sultry voice came through the earphones, mixed with moans and a plaintive complaint. "Yeah, and lately, he can't even get it up. He's worse than a toy."

"I really don't... How could I possibly...!"

This was the fifth time Michael wanted to refute his girlfriend's slander, but many words couldn't escape his lips when facing Emily.

Initially, he habitually wanted to curse "that vile woman," but considering Amanda's body wasn't vile at all, he restrained his foul mouth a bit.

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Following Anderson's car out of the Baiyun Mountain parking lot for over ten minutes, Michael was still on the brink of an explosive rage.

He couldn't comprehend, after years of relationship, how Amanda could so easily and heartlessly speak such baseless lies to another man.

Him? Finished in seconds? Unable to perform?

Impossible!

Every morning he woke up as hard as steel!

"Don't believe what she says. I have no issues in that regard, none at all..."

For some reason, Michael instinctively wanted to clarify to Emily that he had no unmentionable ailment.

Scratching his head heavily, he candidly confessed his thoughts, "Let's put it this way: ever since I found out she was seeing someone else, I've unconsciously avoided her... So from her perspective, she probably thinks I can't perform."

Since discovering Amanda's infidelity, Michael had viewed intimacy with her as a monstrous flood, rejecting her advances over the past few months with excuses of physical discomfort and mental fatigue.

Women always say men think with their lower halves, but that's not entirely true. Whether he could perform depended on who it was.

"Don't worry, I didn't believe her! Truly!" Emily hurriedly assured.

When she heard Amanda's "complaints," her face had already turned beet red, trying her best to keep her inner turmoil from showing.

Between Michael and Amanda, Emily naturally trusted the former more.

She also knew the words Michael couldn't utter, but there was no need for him to explain.

Perhaps to show her "trust," Emily, in a moment of flustered sincerity, blurted, "You're tall and strong, you don't look like 'that kind of person'."

Michael's eyelids twitched, slightly surprised.

He smirked and teased, "What kind of person?"

"...That kind." Emily's voice grew quieter, pointing shyly at a men's urology hospital they passed, mumbling, "Like that."

Immediately feeling embarrassed, she looked down at her phone to change the topic: "It seems our 'mission' is ending early this time."

The adulterous couple in the parking lot had been entwined for nearly an hour, with fewer coherent words and more indistinct panting.

Amanda, silent for a while, didn't speak, but Anderson's intermittent praises—"How do you lick so well, baby?" "Go deeper," and "I'll reward you"—were clear.

All the emotional fortifications couldn't hold. Years of love and marriage were shattered by these bombs, leaving only a ruin tainted with soot.

Even a glance felt dirty.

Anger, shame, sadness, and anxiety churned within.

At that moment, Emily felt like a washing machine, tumbling together clothes that should never be mixed, creating a tangled, discolored mess.

And yet, a hint of relief emerged.

Emily was relieved that Anderson's crude words during passion provided enough recorded evidence to shock.

This recording of their tryst was enough for Michael.

Though he didn't need many reasons to break up with Amanda, nor did he plan to use this evidence to embarrass her, it was essential to retain some leverage, lest the truth be twisted.

He asked Emily, "Do you need more evidence? If so, I won't confront Amanda yet."

Amanda's period meant no more trysts for a few days, making their painstakingly arranged free time seem wasted.

Emily pondered seriously, "Can I get back to you later? I need to organize today's timeline and evidence to see if it's sufficient."

Michael nodded, "Sure, your matters are more complicated than mine. If you can't continue investigating yourself, I can find someone to keep tailing them."

Emily tucked her swaying hair behind her ear and whispered, "Okay, thank you."

Heading towards Binhai West, Michael guessed Anderson would take Amanda home.

The ring road was clear, and cars sped along their lanes. Michael didn't follow too closely, tapping the steering wheel intermittently. After a while, he asked, "Where will you stay tonight?"

Ironically, though they both had homes, neither could return.

"I already found a place..." Emily answered vaguely, "What about you?"

"I'll book a hotel room," Michael joked, "Maybe spend a night at the Mandarin Oriental."

He didn't press her for details.

Emily knew he was joking and smiled faintly, not asking where he would stay either.

Anderson dropped Amanda off at the complex's entrance. Michael stayed back, watching the butterfly-like woman carrying a paper bag, walking towards the gate.

He thought, once this was over, he would get the gate card back from Amanda and change the password on the house lock.

As Anderson's car drove away, Michael also pulled out.

He said, "It's still early, shall we follow a bit longer?"

Emily hesitated, unsure whether to continue. Since Michael decided, she spared herself the dilemma, nodding, "Okay, thank you."

"Don't mention it." Michael glanced sideways at her, disliking her polite distance.

Anderson's next move was irrelevant to him.

He impulsively floored the gas pedal.

Michael just didn't want today's "mission" to end prematurely.

Anderson returned to the office.

Michael sneered sarcastically, "Mr. Anderson is quite the workaholic."

Emily couldn't laugh; something felt off to her, a sense of disconnection.

Michael noticed her pale face, his heart clenched, thinking he had upset her with his chatter: "I sometimes ramble nonsense, don't take it to heart."

Emily realized the misunderstanding and shook her head, "It's nothing. Should we keep following? He returned to the office, I don't know when he'll leave."