Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 32 - He Brought it on Himself
Chapter 32: He Brought it on Himself
That “Mrs. Wen” from him was another reminder of her now-settled identity.
He Qingchi put down the crispy duck wrap irritably, reaching for the napkins — but the man beside her was quicker. He took her hand in his palm and gently wiped the bit of grease from her fingertips with a clean tissue.
Wen Shuchen didn’t squeeze her hand hard. His touch was gentle yet firm, and when it was clean, his fingers slowly trailed upward along her wrist. The warmth of his skin brushing against her fair complexion made He Qingchi instantly uneasy.
Just that light touch from him left her arm completely stiff until his strong hand settled on her shoulder.
“You should get some rest…”
Wen Shuchen easily picked her up from the sofa, his steps steady and calm.
The flush on He Qingchi’s cheeks hadn’t faded. Wen Shuchen was already slowly approaching. His shirt was neatly buttoned all the way up, the fabric carried a slight chill—probably picked up from being outside late at night—but there was no scent of alcohol.
The desk lamp had been turned off, and the only light in the spacious master bedroom came from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Her fingertips fumbled at Wen Shuchen’s shirt collar as her voice turned soft: “Not changing clothes?”
Wen Shuchen had no intention of changing into sleepwear. He didn’t even loosen his collar, just revealing a bit of his long neck. The buttons were fastened tightly. Even in bed, he didn’t abandon his habits.
He Qingchi’s thoughts wandered. Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable to sleep like that?
Beneath her fingers, through the shirt fabric, his body felt slightly warm. She couldn’t tell if his chest had any muscles. But then again, she thought, how could someone with Wen Shuchen’s lean and slender frame possibly have muscles? He always seemed to either be socializing or leisurely sipping tea.
His lifestyle was very disciplined, but he probably didn’t have time to work out.
Not that it mattered—he always had a professional team and bodyguards with him when he went out. No one could easily get close to him.
He Qingchi’s fair fingertips paused at the cold buttons on his shirt. She didn’t dare to undo them yet. Unable to sleep, she deliberately spoke to him: “The night I crashed into your car, you didn’t seem to have any bodyguards... otherwise, would you have had me arrested?”
Wen Shuchen wrapped her in the blanket and lowered his head. When he spoke, his thin lips brushed against her dark hair: “Was your first impression of me really that heartless?”
“Not really.”
He Qingchi continued to snuggle against him, her long eyelashes gently fluttering: “You were in the car on the phone. I didn’t even get a clear look at your face… but your voice was really nice.”
In the dim and hazy light, Wen Shuchen gently brushed her hair aside. His voice softened, clear and warm, as he leaned close and whispered her name, “Qingchi,” again and again, his warm breath lingering by her ear. After repeating it several times, he suddenly lowered his voice and asked, “Like this?”
He Qingchi could almost feel his breath clearly. Her open eyes felt blinded, unable to see anything around her. The man’s voice was so close, murmuring by her ear—vague and indistinct, yet strangely real.
They both fell silent.
Wen Shuchen didn’t stop. His thin lips parted as he softly urged her to wrap her arms around his neck.
And He Qingchi, her mind fuzzy and losing grip on rational thought, curled her shoulders and obediently lifted her pale hands.
The next moment—
Everything went dark. All light was blocked out by the white blanket.
All that remained was the soft rustling of clothes against bed sheets… faint sounds, quietly magnified in the stillness of the master bedroom.
At seven in the morning, bright light shone through the windows.
He Qingchi’s foot slowly emerged from under the white blanket. Her foot was dainty, looking delicate and elegant.
A few seconds later, she struggled to sit up on the edge of the bed. Her long black hair was messy, hanging around her waist. Her face looked only half-awake, clearly short on sleep. Dark circles hung under her eyes.
In the direction of the bathroom, Wen Shuchen had already finished washing up and appeared looking refreshed.
Seeing how she couldn’t even open her eyes properly, he walked over and lightly scraped her smooth cheek with his long fingers: “Want me to carry you?”
His fingers were cold, bringing He Qingchi a bit more clarity.
But when she looked up and saw the man’s handsome face, her lips felt like they were burning. She quickly looked away, dropping her gaze, avoiding his eyes, and uncomfortably muttered, “I’m awake.”
Then she got out of bed and rushed into the bathroom.
Wen Shuchen stayed where he was, the smile in his eyes deepening.
After He Qingchi shut the door, her first instinct was to turn on the tap and splash cold water on her face.
Several times in a row, until her mind finally cleared.
Her hair was damp from the water, and a suspicious blush still lingered on her cheeks. She sat weakly by the edge of the bathtub, closing her eyes in embarrassment and frustration.
A few minutes passed.
He Qingchi was still dwelling on what had happened with him before she got more sleep. That lingering heat refused to subside.
So that’s what kissing between a man and a woman could really be like—it could last over ten minutes.
She had been so innocent when it came to relationships, like a blank sheet of paper. She couldn’t have imagined how just two lips meeting could last that long—ten minutes or even longer, without pulling apart.
The last time, it was just a light brush through a handkerchief. Other than almost forgetting how to breathe, He Qingchi hadn’t really had the presence of mind to savor it.
But this time, Wen Shuchen didn’t use a handkerchief. It was a real kiss—lips and teeth intimately connected.
He Qingchi’s fair fingers pressed against her burning cheeks, forcing herself to stop thinking about it.
Half an hour later—
The tightly shut bathroom door opened. He Qingchi had taken a shower inside. She came out wearing the hotel’s bathrobe. Her change of clothes had been left outside, neatly folded on the bedside table, and she spotted them at a glance.
Wen Shuchen’s taste in fashion aligned perfectly with hers — all of it was upcoming season's unreleased designs.
After tidying herself up, He Qingchi came out of the bedroom, having regained her usual calm demeanor.
On the dining table next to the living room, a lavish breakfast was laid out, with dishes of all kinds.
Wen Shuchen sat leisurely in his chair, dressed in a white shirt and black suit pants. The golden sunlight streaming through the window gave him a clean, crisp appearance — so refined he seemed almost otherworldly.
He Qingchi quickly noticed the shirt he was wearing — it was the one she had sewn herself.
The soft sound of her footsteps caught his attention. Wen Shuchen looked over, his gaze even gentler than usual. “Qingchi, come here.”
He extended his long hand and pulled out the chair beside him.
He Qingchi walked over and sat down. The dark blue hem of her dress draped elegantly, her waist slim and graceful — she looked stunning.
Wen Shuchen served her half a bowl of rice porridge. His every gesture perfectly portrayed the image of a considerate husband.
Neither of them spoke much during the meal. He Qingchi would occasionally glance at him.
It was fine the first couple of times, but after a few more glances, Wen Shuchen smiled and looked straight at her. “Do I look especially handsome today?”
“…” What kind of man asks a woman that?
He Qingchi reached for the napkin and dabbed her lips, coughing softly, wanting to tell him to be more reserved — and to stop smiling like the spring breeze.
But Wen Shuchen’s eyes remained filled with a smile, with no intention of restraining himself.
“Qingchi, after breakfast, shall we go register the marriage?”
It was as if he wanted to get it done while her mood was still good.
Surprisingly, He Qingchi reacted calmly and didn’t say no.
She just blinked and smiled at him. Then she noticed the figure of Song Chao hiding in the kitchen and said, “Secretary Song, are you eating in the kitchen? Come sit with us.”
Song Chao nearly jumped out of his skin. He wasn’t eating —
He was hiding out of guilt!
He didn’t know whether or not Wen had slipped up yet, and since no one said anything, he couldn’t ask.
So he stayed out of sight, not daring to face He Qingchi.
Now that he had been seen, he had no choice but to squeeze out a smile and walk out.
He Qingchi leaned slightly in her chair, propping her delicate chin on one hand, her expression kind. “You prepared so much breakfast… It’d be such a waste if Wen Shuchen and I couldn’t finish it. Come eat with us.”
Song Chao kept a straight face and quickly shook his head.
He Qingchi felt he was acting oddly today — not as friendly and natural as usual. With some suspicion, she looked at the composed Wen Shuchen. “Did you dock his pay?”
Wen Shuchen picked up the newspaper without looking over. His lips calmly parted: “No.”
“Then he seems afraid to face me.”
Clearly, He Qingchi was still in the dark about being injected with a sleeping pill.
Song Chao realized this and quietly breathed a sigh of relief. A bright smile returned to his face. “I had a big chicken drumstick, four buns, and three youtiao this morning. I’m really full.”
He Qingchi had only called him over to change the subject anyway. When she heard that impressive list of food, she paused and genuinely admired him. “You’ve got a great appetite.”
Song Chao returned the compliment: “Flattered, flattered — Madam’s appetite isn’t bad either.”
After breakfast—
He Qingchi intended to go to the set for filming and didn’t bring up the marriage registration again.
Wen Shuchen tested the waters, but when she didn’t agree, he had no choice but to arrange the driver and bodyguards.
He stayed behind at the hotel. Later, he was meeting a business contact. But his expression, now that He Qingchi was gone, wasn’t as pleasant — cool and distant, he sat on the sofa, silently unfastening his shirt cuffs with his long fingers.
His pale wrist, as the sleeve rolled up, revealed a tattoo on his strong forearm.
Slowly, he rolled up the sleeve to reveal a single embroidered character — “Wen” — stitched carefully with thread on the inside.
Song Chao came over with tea and took the initiative to confess: “Mr. Wen, maybe I should come clean to Madam about the sleeping pills?”
He could tell Mr. Wen was dressed like this specifically to register the marriage. But although He Qingchi had already signed the marriage agreement, she suddenly changed her mind about registering — right at the final step. It was a headache.
He didn’t regret persuading Mr. Wen to see the doctor last night, but he knew he had to take responsibility for what happened with He Qingchi.
“She doesn’t know,” Wen Shuchen said calmly, with no expression on his face.
However…
He Qingchi didn’t fully believe his excuse for not being at the hotel that night either. That’s likely why she changed her mind about the registration.
Song Chao broke into a cold sweat and blurted, “Girls these days are really good at picking up clues!”
“Don’t let her know about Meng Qingchang yet. You can go now.”
Wen Shuchen remained composed. He didn’t blame his secretary for He Qingchi’s change of heart.
To put it plainly, this was his own doing — he had tried to deceive her.
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