The package was light, its packaging utterly nondescript, yet Chen Mo instinctively glanced around as he opened it. The living room was empty—his wife had been away on a business trip for three days, and the sound of rain outside drowned out any telltale heartbeat.  

Inside the box lay a matte black cylindrical device, its smooth curves cool as jade to the touch. As he lifted it, the weight in his fingertips felt precise, engineered—nothing like the cheap novelties he’d imagined. The manual bore terms like "adaptive pressure control" and "temperature regulation," making it seem more like a piece of cutting-edge tech than a mere pleasure device.  

 

He tucked it into the bedside drawer, yet found himself drawn back to it again and again. Seven years of marriage had softened the fire between him and his wife into something quieter, like tea slowly cooling. Even their occasional intimacy had become routine—less about discovery, more about familiarity.  

 

The first time he used it was late at night, after overtime.  

 

Stepping out of the shower, Chen Mo stood before the fogged-up mirror, water dripping from his hair. Memories surfaced—his first nervous hotel stay with a college girlfriend, his wife whispering "I’m in your care" on their wedding night. The hot water rinsed away the soap, and with it, a vague sense of guilt.  

 

The smart-connected vibrations surprised him with their rhythm—not mechanical, but undulating like ocean waves. Closing his eyes, he didn’t envision scenes from adult films. Instead, he saw his wife from last summer, barefoot on the beach, turning back to smile at him.  

 

While cleaning the device afterward, Chen Mo noticed tiny engraved words at the base: "Pleasure is a gift of self-awareness." It struck him then—this wasn’t just about release, but a journey to rediscover his own body.  

 

The next morning, he texted his wife: "I’ll make lemon shrimp when you’re back this weekend." He added a sun emoji.  

 

The device remained in the drawer, yet something had undeniably shifted. Like the inscription inside a wedding ring that needs frequent touch to stay polished, perhaps intimacy, too, requires new explorations to rekindle what time has lulled to sleep.