Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 3 - Twenty-three — that's the legal age for marriage
Chapter 3: Twenty-three — that's the legal age for marriage
Separated by the glass door of the bathroom—
The man’s tall, lean figure stood in front of the mirror. The lighting was bright—almost blinding. A transparent droplet of water fell from his tousled hair, trailing perfectly along his sharp jawline, heading toward his Adam’s apple...
She froze in place, stunned, watching this increasingly clear image of a beautiful man stepping out of the shower.
As if sensing something, her heart suddenly started racing.
The next moment, he stepped out of the bathroom. His chest was still damp, and that bead of water slid down the eight sculpted abs on his torso, eventually disappearing into the waistband of his fitted pants.
She blinked, and when she looked up, her gaze met a pair of deep, dark eyes.
He Qingchi opened her eyes.
The room was dark. The windows were closed, and no lights were on.
Lying still, she slowly reached under her pillow and found her phone.
Before she could even check the time, the lock screen lit up—showing the image of a male model with eight-pack abs, dominating her view.
The dream came rushing back—Wen Shuchen, stepping out of the shower. It must’ve been the result of Qin Chuan’s nonsense last night at Penglai Palace. That brainwashing worked too well. Otherwise, why would she dream of a man she’d only met once—and subconsciously map Wen Shuchen’s face onto her phone’s screen saver model?
After two seconds of silence, He Qingchi made a serious decision: change the lock screen.
She hadn’t chosen that photo because she was obsessed with male bodies. The only reason she used it was because the old man at home kept nagging her about not having a boyfriend, even questioning her sexuality at one point. In retaliation, she found a bunch of shirtless male models online and changed her wallpaper daily—just to put his mind at ease.
In this regard, she was more “normal” than any other woman!
Bored, she fiddled with her phone for a bit before her finger suddenly froze. On a whim, she opened her sent messages.
That dog Qin Chuan—he said he’d handle everything, and then he went and stole her phone to message Wen Shuchen!
The message was still there: [Hello Mr. Wen, this is He Qingchi. Would you like to meet for a meal sometime?]
An entire night had passed with no reply. It was like throwing a stone into the sea—completely ignored.
Honestly, it was for the best.
She was 23 and had never tried to pursue a man. After staring at her phone for a while, she tossed it next to her pillow and burrowed back under the blanket. Still groggy from last night’s drinking, she gave up. Fine. Let him contact her for the car compensation if he wants.
*
e Qingchi dozed off again, and when she finally woke up, it was already 4:30 in the afternoon.
Upon checking her phone, she was bombarded with notifications—tons of direct messages from Weibo.
After her trending controversy over refusing a film role, she had logged out of her official, verified Weibo account. She only had a private side account that not even her manager knew about, and it barely had five zombie followers.
But now, judging by the messages flooding in, her ‘little vest’ had been outed.
The hashtag “#CheongsamBeautyRefusesRoleThrowsAttitude” was still trending in the top ten. Gossip blogs and media accounts were milking it, and the DMs and comments were mostly people calling her out.
——Too good to be a Guo girl, huh? Trying to shoot for the stars?
——Before acting, maybe learn some manners first. Backing out on the first day of filming—what is this, an escort haggling price?
——Her candid pics made me drool. Those legs under the cheongsam—so long, so pale… If there’s a stripping scene in the movie, maybe she should sacrifice for the art!
——Here for the drama. She’s got no background, huh? Even her agency dropped her? LOL. If she can’t pay the millions in penalties, it looks like that stripping scene might actually happen.
Penalties...
That word made her thumb pause mid-scroll.
She threw off the blanket, got up for a glass of water, then called Qin Chuan.
“Qin dog, what’s your plan for helping me with this penalty crap? Keep stalling, and I will sacrifice my body for art!”
“That’s great news! With your body…”
Before he could finish his sleazy praise, He Qingchi cut him off coldly: “Before I sacrifice anything, I’ll post every photo of you from age three with your bird hanging out to eighteen still wearing Pikachu boxers—on Weibo. We die together.”
Humiliation.
Qin Chuan instantly caved: “Relax, I’ve got it covered. Babe, if you can’t deal with the director, go work on the investor.”
Before she could respond, he sent her an address to a private club. “I did my homework. The director of your film hasn’t found anyone to replace you. That’s why he’s using online pressure and the contract penalty to force you. You’ve heard of actresses getting roles because of rich daddies, right? They even rewrite scripts. I’ve done all I can—go get ’em!”
……
He Qingchi blinked. By the time she snapped out of it, Qin Chuan had already hung up.
A moment later, she lowered her phone, turned to her nightstand, and grabbed a cigarette from the box. She walked barefoot across the carpet, pulling the heavy curtains open with a flick.
Outside, the city glittered under a just-cleared sky. The air was crisp with a lingering chill from the earlier rain.
Holding a slender cigarette between her pale fingers, she exhaled softly. The rising smoke blurred her delicate face. Her reflection in the window looked fragile—almost one with the night.
She stood there for a long time. Once the cigarette burned halfway down, she turned, stepped into the walk-in closet, and changed into a dark teal cheongsam.
It just rained outside. The temperature was low, and cool air was floating in the air.
This time, she’d learned her lesson. No more driving herself. She hailed a cab, and forty minutes later, arrived at the address Qin Chuan gave her.
It was a small, elegant club located in a prime area of Jiangcheng. Only three stories high, the white building was adorned with intricate black ink-style designs—rich with the charm of southern China.
Just as she entered, a polite server stopped her. “Miss, may I help you?”
Like most high-end clubs, this one was members-only. Wealthy businessmen conducting private deals here had their own exclusive rooms. She gave the room number Qin Chuan had sent her, and the server nodded and led her upstairs.
The waiter still politely led her to the second-floor room. “This way, please.”
He Qingchi followed him up the steps, turned right, walked through the particularly quiet corridor, and came to a private room.
On the door, three characters were written: ‘A Hint of Spring.’
The server knocked twice before opening the door and gesturing for her to enter.
He Qingchi nodded with a smile and stepped inside.
With a soft sound, the door closed behind her.
The private room was quiet, filled with a faint, elegant scent of tea. He Qingchi saw no one around, but on the intricately carved screen in the center of the room, a man’s silhouette was faintly visible.
She walked over, lifting her eyes—and just a few steps away—
She saw a strikingly handsome man.
He sat calmly on the sofa, leisurely brewing tea. Unlike the night before when he wore a formal dark blue suit, tonight he was simply dressed in a white shirt and black trousers. The neatly buttoned collar and his composed demeanor exuded an air of nobility that made him seem almost unapproachable.
He Qingchi thought he ought to keep a low profile. With a face like that, if he appeared casually in public, few would be able to resist.
What she hadn't expected… was that Wen Shuchen turned out to be the investor of the film <Red Rogue>, in which she played the lead!
But none of that mattered now. He Qingchi had no money to pay the multimillion breach-of-contract penalty—she had to convince this man in front of her.
Otherwise—
It was either accept an arranged marriage back in the He family or ‘sacrifice’ her body for the sake of art.
Her fair fingers silently clenched, hiding the sweat in her palm, and she stepped forward on her own initiative.
Before she could speak, Wen Shuchen’s deep, dark eyes turned toward her direction. After a moment of quiet, his voice was calm and low: “It’s you?”
She’d crashed into him the night before, and now she was here to ask a favor.
Even He Qingchi would feel awkward in this situation. For some reason, dealing with Wen Shuchen made her feel uneasy—like it could never end well. Even if he looked warm and harmless, that might just be a carefully placed front.
“President Wen, I’m the lead actress in the film <Red Rogue>, which you previously invested in. I apologize for the unannounced visit—I wanted to talk with you about the movie.” He Qingchi didn’t think they were close enough to make small talk, and she could tell he had been surprised to see her.
Not wanting the atmosphere to grow more awkward, she took out her portfolio and placed it on the tea table, getting straight to the point.
Wen Shuchen’s gaze skimmed lightly over the documents, then moved back to her, as though considering something.
After a moment, while continuing to brew tea with practiced ease, he spoke in a mild tone: “Please, have a seat.”
His invitation to sit—that meant there was room for discussion, right?
He Qingchi slowly walked to the opposite sofa. She had worn a cheongsam to prove she perfectly fit the image of the female lead, hoping it would give her some bargaining power. When she sat down, she moved slowly and with poise. Her long legs were half-concealed beneath the slit of her cheongsam, their pale smooth skin faintly visible.
Wen Shuchen’s gaze swept across her legs briefly—barely a second.
He lowered his eyes again, calmly.
He Qingchi was unaware, her mind was only focused on persuading him to use his influence as the investor to cut the last-minute added scenes from the script.
She spoke earnestly for a while, but the man remained silent and gave no response.
Her lips pressed together slowly. For some reason, the atmosphere in the room made her tense—so tense she couldn’t even organize her words clearly.
Wen Shuchen calmly poured a cup of tea for her, his voice even and unreadable: “Miss He, have some tea.”
He Qingchi blinked, staring at the clean, slender fingers holding the teacup out to her.
She instinctively took the tea, and with a look of quiet anticipation in her dark eyes…
Wen Shuchen finally, with what seemed like noble indulgence, picked up the portfolio from the table.
His gaze swept through the acting résumé quickly.
The photo was makeup-free. She looked young, her face smaller than a man’s palm, her skin pale and delicate—very easy on the eyes. In a cheongsam, she looked like a beauty straight out of a comic book.
“Twenty-three?”
In the quiet room, Wen Shuchen’s voice broke the silence.
He Qingchi had just put down her tea cup and looked up.
His next words were spoken in a low, deliberate tone: “Twenty-three. That’s legal marriage age.”
She stared at him in shock, watching as he continued to study her profile. The lighting in the room outlined his features sharply, and he appeared deep in thought. His long fingers gently tapped the teacup beside him.
Her mind was completely overwhelmed by that one phrase— ‘legal marriage age’!
Could it be that he was criticizing her for entering the entertainment industry so late, at her age? It wasn’t impossible—these days, most actresses debuted in their teens. Compared to them, she was indeed late to the game.
He Qingchi forced a smile and said carefully: “I still look very young.”
Wen Shuchen’s gaze rested on her. In a quiet voice, he asked: “Miss He, are you currently single?”
That was the first question. She nodded truthfully.
Then he threw out another: “Is there someone you like?”
He Qingchi’s words caught in her throat. What was up with this investor?
Investing in a movie, and now he had to worry about the actress’s love life too?
Her lips parted, still uncertain if she should answer when— The door to the private room opened from the outside, and a middle-aged man in his forties stepped in. Before he even entered, his voice arrived first: “Shuchen, I can’t give you this room. I have to entertain my father-in-law soon—why don’t you use the one next door for your tea?”
Every word of that sentence plunged He Qingchi into confusion.
He wasn’t… the investor? He’s not the investor?
Her eyes widened in shock as she turned to stare directly at Wen Shuchen.
For a brief second, there was a flicker of tension on his face—but it quickly returned to its usual calm. He set down her résumé.
The middle-aged man stepped inside. It was immediately clear he was the true host of this private room. His eyes quickly landed on He Qingchi, a lovely stranger he didn’t recognize. His eyes lit up. “And this is? You brought a girl here on a date?”
He Qingchi was speechless. A strange emotion stirred quietly in her chest.
If Wen Shuchen wasn’t the investor in her film, then why waste time luring her into this?
But just then, her phone buzzed with a new text message—an unspoken reminder.
But just then, her phone buzzed with a new text message—an unspoken reminder. [Hello Mr. Wen, I’m He Qingchi. Would you be available for a meal sometime?]
And now, a new message had come in.
Just one word: [Yes.]
Sender: Wen Shuchen.
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