Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 26 - Handkerchief
Chapter 26: Handkerchief
He Qingchi had always been a light sleeper. She was used to resting with her cheek pressed against a soft pillow, and the moment anyone came near her, she would wake up. Her dark eyes blinked open and stared blankly at the man sitting at the edge of the bed.
He was still wearing that neat, immaculate shirt—hadn’t even changed. The lamplight softened his figure, making him appear more gentle and approachable.
“Did I wake you?” Wen Shuchen’s deep eyes were laced with a faint smile, and at this late hour, even his voice was quieter, more soothing.
Still dazed from sleep, He Qingchi furrowed her brows. Her fingers tightened the blanket around her, instinctively cocooning herself. Her voice was tinged with drowsiness and nasal from sleep. “What time is it?”
“Eleven fifty. Almost midnight.” Wen Shuchen sat at the bedside, not immediately slipping under the covers.
Instead, he removed his watch and cufflinks one by one and placed them on the nightstand.
This made He Qingchi relax slightly. She lowered her head, breathing in the elegant woody scent lingering on the blanket—his scent. It was pleasant, almost calming, and before, just lying there had already lulled her to drowsiness.
This scent, uniquely his, was very different from the perfume she usually wore.
Wen Shuchen noticed her dainty nose sniffing at the blanket and arched an eyebrow with amusement. “Smell something?”
“It smells nice—”
He Qingchi lifted her head, meeting his gaze, and answered honestly, “It smells like you.”
Wen Shuchen's smile deepened, his expression gentle. “Want some water?”
She took whatever he offered without question.
He went outside the bedroom and brought back a glass of lemon water. His movements were respectful, never even lifting her blanket.
He Qingchi’s pale wrist timidly emerged from under the covers to take the glass. She lowered her head and took a small sip.
She wasn’t really thirsty—just couldn’t bring herself to reject him and felt a bit nervous.
The lemon water helped ease that tension.
Wen Shuchen continued to sit by the bed, watching her quietly for a long moment before chuckling softly. “Still afraid of me?”
Her lashes fluttered faintly at the question. She looked up to meet his eyes and smiled, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just… I don’t know you well enough yet. I don’t know what to say.”
Wen Shuchen reached out and gently wiped away a droplet of water at the corner of her lips with his clean, slender fingers. It was a natural gesture, as if it belonged there. His voice, low and rich, was especially soothing in the night: “We’ve got a lifetime. There’s time to get to know each other.”
She felt the spot he touched on her lips burn faintly. Just as she was about to speak, Wen Shuchen pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.
Light blue, the fabric looked luxurious and fine.
Was he really going to wipe his hand just because he touched her mouth?
Still bundled up in the blanket, He Qingchi sat on the bed in confusion, watching him.
Wen Shuchen glanced back at her expression and seemed particularly amused. Then he reached out and turned off the only light in the room.
Her heart tightened. She could feel him moving toward her in the dark, bringing with him a scent distinct from the room’s still air.
“Wen Shuchen…”
She couldn’t see, so she instinctively reached out to find him.
In the next moment—
Her pale wrist was caught in Wen Shuchen’s hand. His long, cool fingers were firm and full of masculine strength.
Still dazed, He Qingchi’s lips were suddenly covered with the thin, soft fabric of the handkerchief, stopping her from saying anything more.
Beneath her lashes, tension spread through her gaze. Her breath hitched as his warm presence leaned in, close enough to trace down from the tip of her nose… to her lips.
……
In the span of a few seconds,
He Qingchi lost all sense of balance. In the darkness, her senses heightened—she could hear the shallow breath of the man beside her, each strand pulling at her already racing heart.
Just a single handkerchief between them—warm, delicate.
Wen Shuchen, even when he kissed, could be lethally gentle.
One of his hands rested on her shoulder. The two of them leaned against the headboard. The wide bed dipped slightly between them, and even in the faint light, she could make out the blush and shyness coloring his face.
Her mind was flooded with images of their lips meeting through the fabric. Her fingers clenched tightly at his collar, unable to come back to her senses.
She might still have been lost in that moment when Wen Shuchen gently pried her fingers away, threading his fingers between hers.
Her eyes were misty, unable to find words.
He pulled her, blanket and all, into his embrace. His gaze was deep, clearly seeing the flush and panic on her face. Very gently, he removed the handkerchief from her lips. His low voice, hoarse from restraint, came out as if it had rolled through his throat a few times: “Sleep.”
Obediently, He Qingchi closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, doing her best to ignore the lingering sensation on her lips.
In her hand, his warm palm held hers—
And slowly, it began to quiet the chaos inside her.
**
Early the next morning, when she woke up, the spacious and quiet master bedroom was already empty.
He Qingchi opened her eyes to a pillow white as freshly fallen snow—but Wen Shuchen was nowhere to be seen. She lay there for a moment before sitting up, her long hair a messy cascade, still wrapped in layers of the warm blanket—no wonder she’d felt hot in her sleep.
She swung her legs off the bed and stretched lazily.
The heavy blackout curtains had already been drawn, but the man had considerately left a layer of sheer drapes to block out the harsh sunlight. Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, He Qingchi admired the villa’s morning view.
At 7:50 a.m., a servant knocked gently on the door: “Madam, are you awake?”
He Qingchi turned and opened the door.
The servant was holding a shopping bag filled with freshly prepared clothes for her.
“Sir said you’d likely be awake by now. These are for you.”
He Qingchi took the bag, her eyes sweeping over the contents, then asked, “Where’s Wen Shuchen?”
“Sir is downstairs, waiting for you to have breakfast.”
He Qingchi nodded and motioned for the servant to go downstairs first.
She returned to the room holding the shopping bag, more or less guessing Wen Shuchen didn’t want her to wake up feeling awkward after sharing a bed, so he even had the clothes sent up by someone else.
Especially after that handkerchief kiss last night…
As she recalled it, her eyes caught sight of the neatly folded light blue handkerchief resting on the nightstand.
Her face instantly flushed, and she could still feel the warmth of that kiss lingering on her lips.
That handkerchief had to go!
She reached out, ready to destroy the evidence—only to hesitate, realizing it might make things look even more suspicious.
Slowly, her overly pale fingers retracted.
He Qingchi tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, cleared her throat, and pretended not to notice anything.
Ten minutes later
In the dining room downstairs, a lavish breakfast prepared by the chef had been laid out—everything one could imagine.
Wen Shuchen wasn’t in his usual shirt and suit, but in a light gray set of loungewear and a pair of glasses, adding a softer, more domestic air to his refined appearance.
He sat at the table, leisurely reading a financial newspaper, a finished cup of coffee by his hand.
Song Chao quickly refilled his cup, thinking to himself that married men really were different.
Day one of marriage, and President Wen had already inherited the full glory of the nation’s fine traditions—he looked every bit the ideal husband.
But after a long wait, He Qingchi still hadn’t come downstairs.
Unable to hold back any longer, Song Chao broke the peaceful atmosphere of the dining room: “President Wen, what time did Madam go to bed last night? Maybe she’s still asleep?”
Wen Shuchen calmly turned a page of the newspaper without even glancing at him.
Song Chao, being a man, didn’t dare go upstairs, so he resorted to wild speculation: “President Wen, I think Madam might be acting coy with you. Newlywed women have all these little twists in their minds. If you were lying beside her this morning, she might feel embarrassed… But if you weren’t, she might think you’re a heartless man who just abandoned her after the act!”
He had just gotten the word "heartless" out when Wen Shuchen shot him a sharp look.
Song Chao immediately shut up, his expression awkward and contorted.
Wen Shuchen, still composed, set the newspaper down and tapped the table with his long fingers.
Ten minutes had passed. He Qingchi still hadn’t come down.
After another pause, Wen Shuchen finally stood up and walked upstairs, his pace calm and unhurried.
Song Chao wanted to follow but didn’t dare—now that his boss was a married man, he no longer allowed people to trail behind so casually.
Upstairs, everything was quiet except for the sound of Wen Shuchen’s footsteps.
He stopped at the master bedroom door and, politely, knocked: “Qingchi?”
The servant had already brought her the clothes earlier, so she shouldn’t still be asleep.
He knocked twice more, then gripped the doorknob and opened the door with natural ease.
The bed was still messy, and the room was empty.
His gaze swept around the space, finally landing on the closed bathroom door.
Frowning slightly, Wen Shuchen walked over and called softly: “Qingchi?”
There was a faint sound inside—
She was definitely in there.
Standing just outside, his voice was low and steady through the door: “What’s wrong? Is the dress the wrong size? Or did something happen?”
Silence.
As time ticked by and his patience nearly wore thin, the bathroom door creaked open.
He Qingchi stood there, wearing the crimson gown he had picked for her. Her silky black hair hung down messily to her waist, and her face was a little pale, the disheveled look making her appear even more fragile.
She clutched her phone tightly in her hand and met Wen Shuchen’s worried eyes.
There was a brief silence.
Then He Qingchi lowered her gaze slightly and finally said the words she had been holding back: “My father… said he doesn’t approve of this marriage.”
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