Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 9 - That shirt—I used it as a pajama top
Chapter 9: That shirt—I used it as a pajama top
Late at night, the nanny van slowly stopped in the residential area. Li Ling escorted He Qingchi upstairs but didn’t go into the apartment.
“The director hasn't officially announced the casting change yet, so there’s still room to turn things around. The company will do everything it can to help you win the role back. Just stay home for the next couple of days and don’t think too much about it.”
“Ah, I’m not thinking about anything,” He Qingchi replied calmly. She had been momentarily stunned when she first heard the news, but now seemed composed. She turned and gave a gentle smile.
That delicate smile, so close, immediately reminded Li Ling of a phrase:
—A beauty of national grace and divine fragrance, rivaling even the peony.
He Qingchi had gone viral online thanks to a series of photos of her in a cheongsam. Some doubted they were heavily edited. But later, a candid street photo of her circulated — and she looked even more stunning. Each casual shot was a visual delight.
Even when she was criticized online for refusing roles and acting like a diva, it was undeniable: in a world where looks matter, He Qingchi in a cheongsam was a seductive feast for the eyes.
Li Ling genuinely wanted to help her rise to fame — otherwise, it would be a shame to waste such elegance and charm.
After offering a few heartfelt words, Li Ling left.
He Qingchi stood outside her apartment door for a while. Only after Li Ling disappeared from sight did she go inside.
She didn’t turn on the lights. After kicking off her silver stilettos, she walked barefoot into the bathroom.
Clothes and dresses were scattered all over the floor.
After a shower, He Qingchi lay down on the chaise by the window. Her bathrobe hung loosely from her shoulders, and the cold air brushed against her delicate white skin, making her shiver slightly.
She didn’t care. She just lay there, silently like a corpse, for almost ten minutes before suddenly sitting up.
She walked into the walk-in closet and stood in front of the glass wardrobe. Dropping her robe to the floor, she pulled on a white dress shirt. As she lowered her head, her silky black hair veiled her expression. She rolled up the overly long sleeves.
This shirt was quite suitable as a pajama top.
Staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror, her mood slightly improved.
She sat cross-legged on the cold floor, running her fingers along it.
In truth, she wasn’t as indifferent as she’d seemed in front of Li Ling—especially not after learning that her role had been taken without so much as a word. A rare surge of anger had welled up inside her.
It was like picking out a beautiful cheongsam, customizing it with care—only to see someone else wear it first.
She didn’t tell Li Ling she had gone to find the investor earlier. There was no point.
Because with just one sentence—“Movie Queen Shu’s backer is the new investor of this film”—Li Ling had already forced her to swallow every word she had planned to say.
The director’s film had changed investors—right after her negotiation with Wen Shuchen. Even with little industry experience, He Qingchi could piece it together: who was really behind all of this.
Now, she found out Wen Shuchen was the new investor. And he had placed his “woman” into the lead role.
It felt like something sharp stabbed into her eyes and chest.
Her eyes stung, and her breathing grew tight.
What a complete waste of effort!
*
Around midnight, He Qingchi’s stomach began to ache from hunger.
She rummaged through the kitchen and found a cup of instant noodles. With little appetite, she was clearly just trying to fill her stomach.
The warm light illuminated her white figure dressed in that oversized shirt. Once the noodles were ready, she brought them to the coffee table in the living room. Just after taking a couple of bites, her phone—silent all night—started to ring.
She glanced up and saw the screen flash: “Deadbeat Dad.”
She reached out and turned on speaker.
“Sweetheart, what are you up to?” boomed a hearty male voice over the line.
“I’m sleeping at home,” she said, still eating her noodles.
It was nearly midnight—what else would she be doing?
The call abruptly ended. Two seconds later, a video call request from WeChat popped up.
He Qingchi sighed. Her old man was unbelievable.
These check-in tactics… who knew which mistress he picked them up from?
She declined the first video call.
Soon, the second one came in, bombarding her again.
This time, she answered and leaned the phone against the utensil box, pointing it at her face.
Before her dad could even react with shock, He Qingchi calmly covered her eyes with her fingers and said helplessly, “Dad, can you turn off the beauty filter first? Then we can talk properly.”
“It’s off, it’s off—” her father quickly replied, afraid she’d hang up.
“And turn off the big eyes, face-slimming, and skin-smoothing effects.”
“Already turned off—”
With all the filters gone, her dad’s chubby, wealthy-looking face filled the screen. From his bone structure, he must have been handsome when young. But now, middle-aged and slightly overweight—even with a net worth in the billions—he couldn’t escape the toll of time.
His eyes bulged in shock, and even through the screen, his roar was almost palpable: “My daughter… what are you wearing?!”
“Pajamas,” He Qingchi replied, still eating noodles.
“Pajamas?!” Her father’s plump face moved so close to the screen it almost pressed against it. “That looks like a man’s shirt! Who’s the little punk trying to take advantage of my daughter?! I’ll kill him!”
Although he dreamed of his daughter returning home for an arranged marriage, that didn’t mean Father He could accept his daughter being taken advantage of by her future husband before marriage.
He Qingchi’s ears were hurting from all the shouting. She picked up her phone and turned the camera around to show the living room: “Dad, do you see any men? Want me to go into the bedroom and open the curtains, check under the bed, or show you the closet in the dressing room so you can inspect everything?”
“He could be hiding behind the door too...” Father He added helpfully.
He Qingchi: “…” She was this close to hanging up.
Sensing her frustration, Dad He quickly changed the subject: “Okay, okay—yes, it’s pajamas, pajamas. These days, what girl doesn’t wear a few men’s shirts as pajamas? I’m not some feudal maniac—I’m open-minded… But, sweetheart, why are you eating junk food like that? It breaks my heart. I’ll have the driver come pick you up tonight and bring you home. I’ll get the housekeeper to cook you a whole table of good food.”
He Qingchi paused, holding a noodle strand near her lips.
“If you come home obediently, I’ll support you making movies too. I’ll invest a fortune to film one just for you. Whichever director you want to work with in the industry—I’ll have him tailor a film just for you. I’ll even hire top actors and actresses to be your co-stars. How about that?”
On the video, Father He saw her expression freeze.
She was still holding her chopsticks like she was eating—but she hadn’t moved for a long while.
In the middle of her father’s sweet-talking and generous promises, He Qingchi suddenly felt her throat tighten. Under her lowered lashes, tears fell like a snapped string of pearls—silent, sudden, and unstoppable.
She didn’t sob, but the tears fell one after another.
Seeing his daughter suddenly burst into tears, Father He panicked. His hands flailed, but all he could do was speak through the screen: “Why are you crying? Did someone bully you?”
He Qingchi only cried for a few seconds before regaining control.
She dabbed her red eyes with a tissue. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse from crying: “No.”
“Really?”
Father He asked again, then followed up: “Is it about that film from before? Are they still making you pay a penalty?”
“No, the breach of contract issue is resolved.” He Qingchi didn’t want to go into detail—or explain to her father why she had cried.
When her eyes weren’t red anymore, she looked back at the screen where her dad was nervously watching. Her expression shifted slightly, turning a bit pitiful: “Dad, can I still be your daughter?”
“Of course you can!”
“Then why did you freeze my credit card?” she said, covering her pale face with one hand, trembling slightly. “When you froze my money, it felt like you were cutting me off. I wanted to cry.”
Father He was stunned by her tearful accusation. So he was the villain here?
“Ahem, well…”
He tried to sound stern, but seeing her so sad, his heart softened.
Before he could even think it through, he blurted out: “I’ll call my secretary right now and unfreeze your credit card.”
Immediately, He Qingchi lifted her head. Her delicate face was completely dry—no trace of tears.
“—Thanks, Daddy!”
She beamed and smiled sweetly, then…
Reached out, and ended the video call.
*
The apartment returned to silence. The bowl of noodles had gone cold.
He Qingchi got up from the sofa. After shedding a few tears and releasing the pressure that had been building inside her, she felt much better.
She walked into the bedroom, slipped under the covers, and let herself sink into the soft bedding. Her cheek rested against the snowy-white pillow, and slowly, in the quiet of the deep night…
She began to extract and release those tangled, nameless emotions that had been haunting her these past few days.
A few tears. She’d count that as the end of it.
He Qingchi was not the kind of woman who played the "other woman."
Her innate pride wouldn’t allow her to fall that low.
As for Wen Shuchen—whatever happened between them, she’d chalk it up to a misunderstanding born out of mutual loneliness between a man and a woman.
……
He Qingchi spent the next few days holed up in her apartment—not even stepping out once.
Coincidentally, Qin Chuan had returned to the Qin family home, so no one came to disturb her.
In the blink of an eye, it was Wednesday. He Qingchi slept until past three in the afternoon
She got up lazily, washed her face, changed clothes, and pulled out her phone to order a lavish meal to be delivered to her apartment.
Perhaps her father was feeling extra generous—not only had he unfrozen her credit card, but his secretary also transferred a large sum of money to her. He said it was for “nutrition expenses,” and insisted she eat well, or else her fingers would get too skinny and bony.
He Qingchi, ever the obedient daughter, ordered a full spread of gourmet dishes every day.
But when she put down her chopsticks, unable to finish the food, one thought occasionally popped into her head:
Did she ever lack fine food?
Just because someone treated her to a few gourmet meals, they thought they had her all figured out?
Thinking this made her lose even her normal appetite.
She stepped away from the dining table, remembering it was Wednesday. She picked up her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and found Wen Shuchen’s number. She sent him one final text, then immediately deleted his number—blocked him on WeChat too.
Then, decisively, she turned off her phone.
That way… she wouldn’t think about it anymore.
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