Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 46 - I’ve Even Thought of What to Carve on His Tombstone

September 12, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 46: I’ve Even Thought of What to Carve on His Tombstone

 

“Earlier she said you were her benefactor…” He Qingchi took a full minute to digest this concise story, her smile faint and unclear as she murmured softly, “So this is where that comes from.” 

 

In Shu Tongyi’s eyes, Wen Shuchen had once saved her life.

 

Without that man’s bet, perhaps after hitting rock bottom she would never have pulled herself together again.

 

He Qingchi’s gaze on him now carried a certain unfamiliar sense of distance.

 

Wen Shuchen suddenly reached out, clasping her slender, pale fingertips in his palm. The warmth of skin against skin passed between them, making He Qingchi’s back stiffen for a moment, her fingers curling slightly.

 

Perhaps she didn’t want to say much, and Wen Shuchen didn’t know what she wanted to hear, so both fell silent.

 

He Qingchi didn’t know how to ask, though she vaguely guessed Shu Tongyi might have seen Wen Shuchen as a lifeline. If she had attempted suicide by cutting her wrists, the people around her would have informed him immediately.

 

Understanding was one thing—acceptance was another.

 

“I have one more question.” She didn’t pull her hand away, only lifted her lashes to look at him.

 

Wen Shuchen’s handsome face remained composed. Removing the cigarette from between his thin lips, he said in a low voice, “Go ahead.”

 

He Qingchi fell silent again. After three full minutes of carefully weighing her words, she finally asked, her voice tinged with quiet seriousness, “Have you ever had feelings for Shu Tongyi?”

 

For some reason, the instant she asked, her chest gave a sharp, painful tug.

 

She wasn’t the type to dwell on the past—what was over should be left behind—but somehow, when it came to Wen Shuchen, those rules didn’t apply. She was petty enough to want to claim even his past affections.

 

His gaze seemed both complex and clear.

 

“Is it so hard to answer?” She tried to pull her hand back.

 

His grip tightened slightly, refusing to let her go. His low voice came: “It’s not hard to answer—I just want to know why you’re asking.”

 

“Don’t change the subject.”

 

Her face was serious. “Otherwise I’ll just assume you’re feeling guilty, and then it’ll be hard to have an honest conversation.”

 

“No.” Wen Shuchen’s voice was firm and without a trace of hesitation.

 

He explained earnestly, without a single false note: “Qingchi, you’ve seen what I’m like when I truly have feelings for a woman.”

 

He Qingchi believed that if he had wanted to pursue Shu Tongyi, the two of them would have been together long ago.

 

She looked into his eyes, and they seemed almost devoid of emotion, calm as still water.

 

And Wen Shuchen allowed her to look as much as she wanted.

 

“Then how pitiful must Shu Tongyi have been for you to feel sympathy for her?”

 

He Qingchi didn’t doubt the truth of his words, but asked softly again.

 

Wen Shuchen thought for a moment. Even after so long, the memory was blurred. His voice was low and unhurried: “She was Meng Qingchang’s patient. She locked herself in the bathroom and cut her wrists—her arms covered in fine scars, her white dress soaked in blood, and she hadn’t yet gotten a prosthetic leg.”

 

It was by chance that he happened to be at Meng Qingchang’s place that day and helped persuade the patient to stop.

 

Wen Shuchen had always kept his word. He hadn’t overly involved himself in Shu Tongyi’s life—he gave her resources for a few years, then let her develop on her own.

 

Later, they became acquainted mostly because Shu Tongyi and Meng Qingchang became friends and occasionally met in passing.

 

He had respected Shu Tongyi’s privacy and never mentioned this in front of He Qingchi, but now that the situation had changed, Wen Shuchen carefully spoke from his thin lips, confessing: “This matter was a setup by people from the old house, involving both you and her—and it was because of me.”

 

“I’m your wife—there’s no such thing as being ‘involved’,” He Qingchi replied after a brief pause, though her gaze drifted toward the ward.

 

If anyone was dragged into this, it was probably Shu Tongyi.

 

Wen Yue was a twisted man—if he wanted something, he didn’t care how much pain it caused. Even knowing Shu Tongyi’s traumatic past, he had no problem destroying her again.

 

“You should call someone from the old house to take care of Shu Tongyi until she recovers.” There was another meaning hidden in her words—she didn’t want to see Wen Shuchen keeping vigil in Shu Tongyi’s hospital room. That silhouette should belong to her alone.

 

Even if it was selfish, He Qingchi didn’t want to share.

 

Her tone was tactful, but after speaking she started to get up. 

Wen Shuchen didn’t let go. His grip tightened slightly, pulling her back into her seat—this time into his arms. His voice was low as he said, “You’re right. I’ll have someone from the old house come.”

 

He never mentioned Wen Yue’s name, only calling him ‘someone from the old house.’

 

He Qingchi knew he likely had some unresolved feelings there. When she lifted her head, his deep eyes were fixed on her.

 

After half a month apart, the closeness they had built seemed to vanish without a trace.

 

She instinctively turned her face away, but his long fingers tilted it back toward him. His warm breath trailed from her forehead downward, as if searching for her lips.

 

She could clearly see her own reflection in his dark pupils—her face bare of makeup, a little pale, expression stiff. After a moment, she suddenly smiled for no apparent reason.

 

Wen Shuchen’s lips stopped just a hair’s breadth away, and he asked, “What are you smiling at?”

 

Half-squinting, she glanced toward the ward. “Someone used Shu Tongyi’s accident to make you angry at me and neglect me. He probably never expected that in the end, the roles would be reversed—and I’d be the one who’s angry.”

 

Wen Shuchen understood immediately who she meant, and realized Wen Yue had been in contact with her privately.

 

“Wen Yue.” The two words slipped from He Qingchi’s red lips, making it perfectly clear.

 

Wen Shuchen’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes instantly turned cold and dark.

 

He Qingchi could sense that Wen Shuchen really didn’t want Wen Yue—whether the person himself or even just his name—to appear between them.

 

She had already spoken the words; there was no taking them back.

 

The next moment.

 

 Wen Shuchen pulled her up, his tone returning to normal. “I’ll handle the aftermath of this matter. Let Song Chao take you back to the hotel first. Don’t go back to the film set for the next few days—someone will inform Director Guo.”

 

So he still wasn’t going back to the hotel—did that mean he was choosing to stay here with Shu Tongyi?

 

As his palm released her fingertips, a faint chill crept over He Qingchi’s skin.

 

She unconsciously tightened her own fingers and answered stiffly, “Oh.”

 

……

Song Chao arranged four bodyguards and personally escorted He Qingchi, smiling all the way as if afraid she might be in a bad mood.

 

She sat quietly in the back seat, most of her figure hidden in shadow. Only the fine lines of her profile could be seen—delicate features, a graceful nose, and soft lips.

 

The atmosphere remained silent for a while until Song Chao deliberately broke it. “After Shu Tongyi cut her wrists, her agent called Mr. Wen, saying it involved you, Madam—so he came to the hospital.”

 

“I know.” He Qingchi’s voice was calm.

 

Song Chao added, “Madam, perhaps you shouldn’t go to bed too early tonight.”

 

The vague, out-of-context advice finally made her glance at him.

 

Song Chao left the rest unsaid, only giving her a small smile.

 

Was this supposed to be comfort? He Qingchi thought, Even the secretary is trying to console me—how pathetic does that make the legitimate wife?

 

Outwardly, she refused to let her emotions show, her tone light. “He probably found out at the hospital that it was Wen Yue, didn’t he? Yet he didn’t even bother calling me. What role am I supposed to be playing in all this?”

 

Song Chao found the question hard to answer. “Maybe Mr. Wen wanted to settle everything first before telling you.”

 

She curved her lips slightly, though it didn’t look much like a smile. “Your Mr. Wen is truly a contradictory man.”

 

The rest of the drive was silent—Song Chao feared saying more and making mistakes.

 

Once they reached the hotel, he left four bodyguards to ensure her safety, took a call, and hurried off.

 

He Qingchi slammed the door shut and stood alone in the empty living room.

 

Only now did her delicate face slowly lose all expression.

 

After a while, she headed to the master bedroom. It was spotless, yet traces of Wen Shuchen’s life were everywhere—his belongings neatly placed, a wristwatch and a pair of fine blue cufflinks still on the nightstand, as if casually left there.

 

There was no sign of another woman—no stray hairs on the sheets or pillows.

 

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it didn’t leave her feeling suffocated either.

 

She casually grabbed one of his shirts, went into the bathroom to change, then lifted the covers and climbed into bed.

 

His clean, familiar masculine scent lingered on the pillow and in the quilt. She closed her eyes; even her breathing was filled with it.

 

She tried for half an hour to fall asleep, but it was impossible.

 

Finally, she gave up, picked up her phone, and opened Weibo.

 

The trending topics were still there, but her name had disappeared.

 

The media and gossip accounts were still clinging to the plastic surgery scandal surrounding Shu Tongyi, and now they had fresh news—she’d cut her wrists and been sent to the hospital. Reporters flocked there, but with bodyguards heavily guarding the entrance, they could only take photos of the hospital doors.

 

He Qingchi scrolled through the comments for a long time but saw no mention of herself.

 

Then Li Ling sent her a message, blunt and to the point: [There’s too much buzz around Shu Tongyi—paying to delete won’t work, and even hired commenters can’t suppress it.]

 

He Qingchi’s fingertips hovered over the screen for a while before replying: [I understand.]

 

Seeing that there was no news about He Qingchi anymore, Li Ling felt her earlier worries ease. [It’s late—get some rest. I’ll keep following the trending topic situation.]

 

As long as her own artist wasn’t involved, Li Ling had no intention of caring about someone else’s—

 

Even if that someone was the over-hyped Shu Tongyi.

 

He Qingchi tossed her phone aside, pressing the back of her hand over her forehead, shadows blocking her view.

 

The more one wanted to sleep, the more awake one became.

 

Near midnight, the motionless figure in the center of the large bed suddenly sat up, hugging the quilt. She gave in, reaching for her phone and pulling up Qin Chuan’s number.

 

The line rang several times before cutting off—Qin Chuan was unreachable.

 

She guessed he was either out indulging in nightlife or tangled up in a woman’s arms, unlikely to answer anytime soon.

 

She scrolled through her contacts until her finger stopped on Qu Bixin’s name.

 

Past midnight in Jiangcheng, the lower districts where people rose early and worked late were still brightly lit.

 

She had the bodyguards park at the end of a street and got out, stepping over the uneven pavement toward a small food street at the alley’s end. It was lively—each small restaurant’s owner busy cooking, delicious aromas thick in the air.

 

She spotted a small late-night eatery with only a few closely packed tables, occupied by strangers drinking and chatting.

 

It didn’t take long for her eyes to find the one figure that didn’t belong.

 

Qu Bixin had ordered a few signature dishes and a case of beer, sitting casually on a plastic stool. Tonight she had abandoned her usual sweet, pink, girl-next-door style for a black cropped top revealing a sliver of waist, short shorts with black fishnet stockings, and high leather boots. Her pale legs drew attention immediately. The contrast between her innocent looks and the wild, edgy outfit brought back a shadow of her past self.

 

He Qingchi walked over and sat down directly, asking, “How did you even find a place like this?”

 

If it weren’t for the bodyguards being familiar with every corner of Jiangcheng, she wouldn’t have been able to find it at all.

 

“Just think of it as experiencing life. The taste here isn’t much worse than those high-end restaurants we usually go to.”

 

With family backgrounds like He Qingchiand Qu Bixin’s, whenever they went out to spend money, they came with the labels of extravagant and indulgent, the kind who would throw money around without blinking. Normally, they’d never set foot in a common street food alley like this.

 

Yet this time, Qu Bixin had chosen to meet here, and she seemed to be adapting quite well.

 

He Qingchi wasn’t hungry; she just sat there quietly, watching Qu Bixin unwrap the chopsticks and eat, without touching her own food.

 

“Go on and eat. It won’t poison you,” Qu Bixin said, rolling her eyes, knowing He Qingchi found the place unsanitary.

 

He Qingchi still didn’t pick up her chopsticks. She just felt that the place was lively—everyone laughing and chatting, as if they had no troubles at all.

 

After eating for over ten minutes, Qu Bixin suddenly put down her chopsticks. “Shen Fu grew up in this kind of environment.”

 

He Qingchi lifted her lashes, looking at her quietly.

 

Qu Bixin had just been looking for someone to talk to. Lately, it was as if she’d vanished from the world; if He Qingchi hadn’t called to invite her out, she would probably still be sulking at home. She picked up a bottle of beer, popped it open with practiced ease, and, without bothering with a glass, took a swig before handing one to the woman across from her. Then she opened one for herself as well.

 

The icy chill seeped into He Qingchi’s fingertips as they touched the beer.

 

The two of them drank in silence for a while before Qu Bixin glanced around at the messy yet bustling surroundings. “His friends all say behind my back that I’m a spoiled little princess, raised in piles of gold, and that by being with me, Shen Fu is… how did they put it…? Ah yes, destined to bow and scrape for me his whole life. Poor him.”

 

He Qingchi swallowed the bitter taste of the beer and smiled faintly. “Which of his friends dares say that about you? Aren’t they afraid you’ll get back at them?”

 

“Oh, I got back at them.”

 

Qu Bixin flashed her signature sweet smile, but the words that came out of her crimson lips were anything but sweet. “I spent a hundred thousand yuan to hire a private investigation firm. Followed one of his friends for six months straight until I finally caught him cheating. Then I sent the evidence—completely uncensored—to every single one of his family members. Everyone got their own copy.”

 

He Qingchi wasn’t surprised at all. That was exactly the kind of straightforward and darkly mischievous thing Qu Bixin would do.

 

“They all think Shen Fu and I will never grow old together…”

 

Qu Bixin shook her head, her doll-like voice dropping a few tones before she cursed bluntly, “Bunch of shallow idiots.”

 

He Qingchi continued listening quietly, not wanting to talk about her own situation with Wen Shuchen. Tonight, coming out so late, she simply wanted someone to keep her company—just to chat, say a few words, anything.

 

Qu Bixin ranted about Shen Fu’s poor friends for a while before finally pausing to take out cigarettes and a lighter.

 

“Want one?”

 

He Qingchi took one, her pale fingers lighting it with practiced ease. In the deep night, the sight was strikingly beautiful.

 

She handed one back to Qu Bixin in return, who lit it and held it between her lips.

 

“Good cigarettes.”

 

“Stole them from Shen Fu’s pocket,” Qu Bixin said, biting the filter, smiling so that a small dimple appeared on her cheek.

 

The cigarettes were good, though the flavor was a bit strong—

 

Not quite what a calm, aloof man like Shen Fu would usually go for.

 

He Qingchi commented lightly, “He hides a lot from you.”

 

Qu Bixin didn’t mention the matter of Wen Shuchen’s screenshot, simply holding the cigarette between her fingers, letting the smoke curl upward.

 

“So, what’s wrong with you tonight? Something bothering you? Tell me so I can feel better.”

 

He Qingchi’s calm face creased slightly with agitation. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for marriage.”

 

“Who’s born cut out for marriage?” Qu Bixin asked.

 

She was right, but He Qingchi’s emotions were unstable tonight. Before meeting Wen Shuchen, she’d had no romantic experience at all—like a blank sheet of paper—so she had no idea how to properly handle the problems that came with a relationship.

 

She couldn’t do what Qu Bixin did—pretend to be clueless and fool herself into feeling better.

 

“You’re at a stage… hmm… I’ve been there. You’re probably starting to fall for Wen Shuchen,” Qu Bixin analyzed logically, speaking with certainty.

 

He Qingchi froze for a moment before hearing her ask, “How do you feel about him now?”

 

How did she feel?

 

It was a tricky question, but once she thought it through, it was easy to answer. “When I’m with Wen Shuchen, I feel very emotionally stirred. Not in a physical way, but psychologically. I just naturally feel that he’s mine, and that I have the right to control him.”

 

Qu Bixin opened another bottle of beer, speaking like someone who’d been through it all. “That’s called possessiveness.”

 

He Qingchi stopped drinking, pressing her lips together. “Then that means I’m justified.”

 

“Possessiveness comes in levels. I’m the extreme type. You, I think, can still be saved.”

 

“Why can I still be saved?”

 

Qu Bixin’s answer was simple. “Because you can still sit here drinking with me.”

 

He Qingchi: “…”

 

“If you’d advanced to my level, you’d be fighting with Wen Shuchen right now,” Qu Bixin said knowingly, winking at her.

 

He Qingchi lowered her lashes, and after a long pause said, “Actually, when Wen Shuchen didn’t message me at nine o’clock tonight, I’d already thought of what to carve on his tombstone.”

 

“A kindred spirit,” Qu Bixin said, clinking her beer bottle against hers, crossing her slender legs and sneering, “Women get depressed and drown their sorrows in alcohol… isn’t it because we know killing someone is illegal, so we can’t scold or touch the one at home? It’s complicated.”

 

He Qingchi was provoked by her words. Despite saying she wouldn’t drink, she opened another bottle.

 

With their drinking capacity, the whole case of cold beer was no problem at all.

 

Qu Bixin was happily drinking and even wanted to ask the shop owner to bring another case over.

 

He Qingchi frowned and stopped her, “This beer tastes awful.”

 

How good can cheap beer be? It’s just for the buzz.

 

Seeing He Qingchi stop drinking, Qu Bixin didn’t order more and showed a look of regret on her delicate face: “I was hoping to get myself drunk tonight, give Shen Fu a chance.”

 

He Qingchi responded with a cold laugh, picking up her phone from the table and checking the time—it was almost 3:30 a.m.

 

“I’m tired. Let’s call it a night.” She went to pay the bill. Despite the uneven cement floor, she walked steadily in her heels. Except for the smell of alcohol on her, it wasn’t obvious she’d drunk much.

 

The shop owner, who had worried the two pretty young women would get drunk, was relieved to see they weren’t and complimented them with a big smile at checkout: “Great drinking capacity! Remember to come again.”

 

He Qingchi smiled lightly. The food was good, just the beer was too bad.

 

She helped Qu Bixin out of the lively alley, glancing at her, “You’re pretending to be drunk so well.”

 

Qu Bixin leaned softly on her shoulder, blowing out a breath, “If you’re acting, you have to go all the way.”

 

From afar, the bodyguards stood vigilant. Seeing them appear, one quickly opened the back seat door.

 

But Qu Bixin didn’t get in, instead pointing to her own car parked nearby: “I’m heading back to my place. Waiting for Shen Fu to pick me up.”

 

Seeing she was determined to keep up the act, He Qingchi helped her into the car and quietly instructed, “I’ll leave a bodyguard to look after you. When Shen Fu arrives, leave with him—no interruptions to your acting.”

 

Qu Bixin gave her a sweet smile, then turned to lie back on the seat, her chin-length black hair covering her face.

 

After He Qingchi got out and walked away, Qu Bixin’s slender figure gradually disappeared into the night, and she muttered drowsily, “You’ve obviously fallen for him but won’t admit it. Idiot.”

 

……

He Qingchi returned to the car; the heater quickly chased away the chill on her body. The bodyguard had already prepared some sobering medicine.

 

The service was really thorough.

 

He Qingchi took the medicine and, after tossing and turning for half the night, grew tired. Covered with a thin blanket, she lay half-asleep on the back seat.

 

The driver kept a steady speed. She lost track of time until the bodyguard woke her.

 

Her vision was blurry for a moment before she finally recognized her surroundings—it was still inside the car.

 

“Madam, Secretary Song called. He wants you to come to the old house.”

 

The bodyguard relayed the message first to He Qingchi, waiting for her reaction.

 

She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. The awful beer was bad enough, but the after-effects lingered. After a moment, she caught the words “old house” and seemed to clear up a bit, calmly asking, “Go for what?”

 

The bodyguard lowered his voice, “Mr. Wen is at the old residence. Secretary Song means for you to go pick him up.”

 

“Isn’t Wen Shuchen at the hospital with Shu Tongyi?”

 

“Uh… I don’t know either, madam. Madam will know it after going to the old house.” The bodyguard had been following her all night and didn’t know the boss’s whereabouts. 

 

He Qingchi was silent for two seconds, thinking that Secretary Song wouldn’t spread false information about this.

 

The bodyguard waited again, “Madam?”

 

She came to her senses, slowly sat upright, brushed back her messy long hair, and said three words clearly: “Go to the old house.”

----------