Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 11 - Are you going to get a stomachache and then have your legal team sue me for intentional harm?

June 24, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 11: Are you going to get a stomachache and then have your legal team sue me for intentional harm?

 

After Wen Shuchen explained the reason for his visit that evening, the atmosphere between them became awkward for a while.

 

He Qingchi’s reaction was like someone caught red-handed doing something wrong, completely seen through.

 

She took a moment to compose herself. Instead of standing against the wall this time, she leaned against the shoe cabinet. Her long lashes cast a row of shadows across her porcelain-like face, giving nothing away emotionally.

 

“I came back to Jiangcheng today and worked for ten straight hours on the plane. That way, I’d have enough time after landing to come pick you up for our appointment.” Wen Shuchen's uniquely husky voice, made raspy by discomfort in his throat, broke the tense silence between them.

 

He abandoned his usual gentlemanly subtlety—every word he said made it clear:

 

This date mattered to him.

 

There was a misty look in He Qingchi’s eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder if he treated every woman this way, even those he hadn’t known for long—so thoughtful, gentle, and attentive?

 

She kept her head down, staring at the floor, unwilling to look at his face.

 

After a pause, she muttered, “I already had dinner.”

 

That was her way of turning him away.

 

Wen Shuchen seemed to understand and asked in a low voice, “Is there any left?”

 

“Huh?” He Qingchi looked up in surprise, her wide, dark eyes blinking.

 

Just earlier, when she’d been alone in the apartment, she’d jokingly fantasized about feeding Wen Shuchen a meal—was that dream about to come true?

 

“I didn’t have much of an appetite after landing. Now I do,” he said, his gaze steady on her. The faint smile lines in his deep eyes under the light were indescribably charming.

 

Her heart couldn’t stay calm—she even wondered if his words implied…

 

He hadn’t been hungry,

 

But after seeing her, he was.

 

*

She had ordered a table of private dishes in the evening but barely touched any of it; everything had gone cold on the table.

 

She wanted to reheat the food and brought a plate into the kitchen, only to find that the decorative microwave she’d bought didn’t work. She wasn’t sure if it was broken or if it just refused to “serve” this man.

 

She tried twice, but when she turned around, she was startled to see Wen Shuchen behind her.

 

She jumped in surprise, then immediately felt embarrassed.

 

Not being able to work a microwave was a subtle admission of her skill level in the kitchen.

 

“I’ll just order you takeout,” she offered. 

 

No matter how temperamental He Qingchi was, she wasn’t the type to mistreat others.

 

Any grudges or misunderstandings between them could be laid out on the table—but it didn’t justify serving leftovers to someone of his status.

 

Wen Shuchen took the plate from her calmly, as if food wasn’t something he was picky about at all. “Just a few bites to fill my stomach—no need to go through all the trouble.”

 

He Qingchi instinctively thought he was lying. Who eats spicy leftovers to ‘fill the stomach’?

 

Her red lips parted as if to say something, but she held it back.

 

She didn’t really have any right to worry about his stomach anyway.

 

The messy relationship between them should be cleared up early to avoid further misunderstandings.

 

Wen Shuchen was already seated at the dining table, slowly wiping water from his hands with a napkin. Under the light, his fingers looked pale and clean. The tightly buttoned collar at his slender neck gave off an almost obsessive neatness.

 

He Qingchi noticed that every time this man wore a shirt, all the buttons were fastened—including the cuffs.

 

He never rolled up his sleeves to show his arms.

 

With his tall, lean build, he probably didn’t even have abs.

 

She figured no one was perfect. Abs or not, even if Wen Shuchen turned out to be a sickly guy, it wouldn’t be surprising.

 

Sitting half a seat away from him, she rested her chin in her hand and watched him chew slowly…

 

Clearly, his taste leaned light—completely opposite from hers.

 

Trying to get him to stop eating, she deliberately asked, “If your stomach gets upset, you won’t send your legal team to sue me for intentional harm, right?”

 

Wen Shuchen lifted his head and looked calmly at the woman beside him. Though he knew her ploy, he still smiled faintly and replied, “Depends.”

 

Depends on whether to sue her?

 

He Qingchi snatched the chopsticks from his hand, her delicate features vibrant and expressive: “Feeding a thankless wretch like you for nothing—stop eating!”

 

She dumped all the food into the kitchen trash, but still refused to admit she was worried about his stomach.

 

Wen Shuchen didn’t stop her, just sat quietly in his seat.

 

His throat wasn’t feeling great to begin with, and spicy food made it worse. After forcing down a few bites, his brows subtly furrowed.

 

A few moments later, He Qingchi came out of the kitchen with a glass of water.

 

Wen Shuchen accepted it with his long fingers, his gaze fixed on her face as he spoke, not looking away for even a second. “Not mad anymore?”

 

“What are you talking about?” He Qingchi’s voice quivered along with her heartbeat.

 

Wen Shuchen sipped the water, then asked, more earnestly this time, “If you’re not mad anymore… can you lend me three more hours? I want to take you to meet someone.”

 

Last time, he asked for three hours to take her to a private dinner. This time, three hours to meet someone.

 

He Qingchi didn’t ask who—she had a vague feeling that Wen Shuchen’s visit tonight wasn’t just about retrieving a shirt.

 

She’d been stewing in her apartment for days, angry and hurt. Yet with just one sentence from him, all that emotion dissolved.

 

“Is that okay?” he asked again, softly.

 

The way he said is that okay—it sounded so tender, like a big hand gently patting her head.

 

He Qingchi’s emotions were all tangled up. She looked at him, one second… two seconds… then finally couldn’t help it—her lips curved into a smile.

 

*

When they suddenly needed to go out in the evening, He Qingchi had no choice but to leave Wen Shuchen in the living room while she went to the walk-in closet to change.

 

Standing in front of the glass wardrobe, her fingertips slid over a dazzling array of dresses until they paused on a pearl-white gown.

 

She fell silent for two seconds, and Wen Shuchen’s image from earlier—him in a light gray shirt—floated into her mind. On a strange impulse, she pulled the dress out.

 

After changing into it, she stood before the mirror. The pearl-white color suited her, making her skin look even more fair and radiant.

 

She stared for a while, her ears turning slightly red, then hurriedly changed out of it.

 

Instead, she chose a vibrant red dress—perfectly avoiding the chance of accidentally coordinating outfits with Wen Shuchen.

 

Dressed and ready to go, she walked out without putting on any makeup, not wanting to make it look too much like a real date. She casually brushed her long, black hair over her shoulders. But the moment she stepped into the living room and was about to speak, her voice caught in her throat…

 

She froze—awkwardly.

 

Her deep black eyes saw clearly: Wen Shuchen was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his long hand reaching out to pick up a white men’s shirt from the chaise lounge.

 

It was the one she’d worn as a pajama top the other night, which she had casually tossed there.

 

She hadn’t cleaned it up in the past few days, too irritated by the whole situation with the movie to bother.

 

Now that Wen Shuchen had found it, He Qingchi wanted to die on the spot.

 

“This is mine?” Wen Shuchen’s voice was soft and calm, but clearly tinged with amusement.

 

He examined it for a moment and even complimented it without reservation: “The embroidery is beautiful.”

 

The fine silk fabric was embroidered with precise, delicate stitches.

 

He Qingchi couldn’t even lie with a straight face—especially since the cuff of the shirt had the character "温" (Wen) embroidered on it.

 

She had practically stamped it with his name.

 

Wen Shuchen took the shirt without hesitation. Sensing her reluctance, he breezed past it without giving her a chance to object. Then, checking his watch, he said calmly, “We should go.”

 

He was taking her to meet someone—he must have arranged the time with them.

 

With her thoughts a mess, He Qingchi held back any protest and glanced several times at the shirt in his hand.

 

*

She’d already worn that shirt to sleep twice—was it really appropriate to give it to him?

 

On the way there, she kept hesitating, wanting to say something but unsure what Wen Shuchen would think if she told the truth.

 

Tangled up in her own thoughts, the car finally pulled up in front of a private club.

 

Right in front of her, Wen Shuchen carefully folded the shirt and placed it in the trunk. Only then did He Qingchi realize—it was a gift.

 

Holding her head in frustration, she bit her lip before getting out of the car and said seriously, “Mr. Wen, you know you’ll have to wash that shirt when you get home, right?”

 

Wen Shuchen opened the car door for her like a gentleman, his gaze looking directly at her.

 

He seemed especially pleased tonight, even more so after they left the house.

 

At her comment, he smiled slightly and said, “Calling me Mr. Wen is too formal. Just call me Shuchen.”

 

He Qingchi froze—No way.

 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Wen Shuchen not only seemed cheerful tonight, he’d also decided to elevate their relationship from strangers to friends.

 

He Qingchi felt a little lost. This counts as friendship?

 

But Wen Shuchen continued calmly, “We’ve known each other for seventeen days and twenty hours. I gave you a bracelet. You gave me a shirt in return. Qingchi, doesn’t that make us friends?”

 

His last sentence was deliberately phrased as a question, with a tone so deep and unreadable it was almost provocative.

 

As if, if she dared to say no, he’d follow up with: You stayed at my hotel. You rolled up my sleeves and looked at my wrist. I’ve been to your apartment, and my hand happened to brush your back. I’ve seen you in a camisole nightgown.

 

Those aren’t things that happen between strangers.

 

He Qingchi was speechless, and she noticed he had stopped calling her "Miss He" and now simply called her Qingchi—so naturally.

 

He was calm and composed; if she kept resisting, she’d just seem petty.

 

Wen Shuchen then raised his cool, pale hand and slowly extended it to her. “Let’s go.”

 

Their eyes met in silence. Hidden meanings filled the moment. After a pause, she calmly placed her fair hand into his palm.

 

……

The private rooms on the third floor of the club were separated only by carved rosewood screens, giving a quiet and undisturbed atmosphere.

 

He Qingchi was firmly convinced Wen Shuchen had brought her here to meet someone. But once they were in the room, all he did was leisurely prepare tea for her. Just as she couldn’t hold back anymore and was about to ask—

 

Wen Shuchen looked up and made a quiet gesture with his hand, signaling her to stay silent.

 

He Qingchi blinked, and then she heard a door open in the adjacent room—followed by the sound of footsteps.

----------