Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 52 - He was The One Who Took the Initiative

September 26, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 52: He was The One Who Took the Initiative

 

Shu Tongyi had grown thinner. Dressed in the blue-striped hospital gown, she leaned against the bed, her face carrying a sickly pallor, yet her emotions were unnaturally calm as she told He Qingchi the truth behind the rumors that had spread online.

 

Ever since her debut, her physical disability destined her to face more controversy in the entertainment industry than others. Aside from possessing a breathtakingly beautiful face, Shu Tongyi had no other advantages. She could only fight her way up by relentlessly taking roles and working non-stop to secure her foothold in the industry.

 

She wanted fame—wanted to change her environment, to give herself a chance at rebirth.

 

And Shu Tongyi did succeed. But no matter how famous she became, famous to the point where no one dared to openly mention her leg anymore—

 

When night fell silent, she would still sink into her memories of the past, unable to climb out.

 

Even now, when she spoke of her biological father, there was still an unshakable fear that rose from deep within. Her fingertips unconsciously clenched the sheets, her face drained of blood as she said, “I started getting plastic surgery when I was eleven. My father personally held the knife. He believed it was a gift for his child.”

 

“Later, my face was altered no less than twenty times. At seventeen, I had facial bone-shaving surgery, and every year there was another major operation. My father was never satisfied with my face—he wanted to turn me into the most perfect woman in the world.”

 

He Qingchi immediately understood—plastic surgery had not been Shu Tongyi’s choice.

 

After a brief silence, she asked, “Your father’s… occupational obsession?”

 

Shu Tongyi gave a bitter laugh. “I wasn’t his daughter. I was his career’s masterpiece… At seventeen, I developed severe depression. I secretly drove the family car out, wanting to end my life. But I got into a crash. I didn’t die—just lost a leg. From that moment, in his eyes, I was defective.”

 

Seventeen was when the accident happened. At eighteen, during a session with a psychiatrist, she met Wen Shuchen. He Qingchi roughly pieced together the timeline, remaining a qualified listener, not interrupting.

 

“Defective things are destined to be discarded. Later, he had another daughter with my mother—wanting to mold another perfect masterpiece. As for me, I became worthless. Even this face of mine, he no longer had the interest to look at.”

 

That was when the surgeries on her face finally stopped. But she herself picked up the blade—slicing into her own flesh, over and over.

 

Born only to be treated as a project by her father. Then, losing her left leg in a car accident—forever unable to dance ballet again, stripped of her dream, quickly replaced by her younger sister.

 

What meaning was there left in living?

 

After countless ineffective sessions with psychiatrists, she found no anchor in life. Her family offered no hand to pull her out.

 

That was when Wen Shuchen appeared. She spoke to He Qingchi with raw honesty: “At the time, I thought Heaven had finally taken pity on me. He sent Wen Shuchen into my life—to give me a chance at rebirth.”

 

“Honestly, with your personality, even without Wen Shuchen, you would have found a way to live. Your father destroyed your life, but indirectly, this face gave you another kind of life. I think…” He Qingchi paused for two seconds, searching for the right words.

 

She wasn’t trying to persuade Shu Tongyi to forgive—no one could endure such a thing. But she did say: “You’re only twenty-five. If you don’t start looking forward, if you keep clinging to the past, you’ll only be torturing yourself. Shu Tongyi, those memories aren’t what’s terrifying. What’s terrifying is that you won’t face them. Of course… what I mean is, don’t keep holding onto Wen Shuchen’s so-called kindness.”

 

Kindness owed—those debts are the hardest to untangle.

 

“These years, I still can’t forget the image of my father sending me to the operating table again and again with his own hands. Every time I wake from nightmares at night, I instinctively reach for my face. It’s become part of my body’s reflex.” Shu Tongyi had even tried hypnotherapy, reliving her childhood memories in her dreams, but the illness only worsened.

 

He Qingchi was no professional psychiatrist—she could only stop here.

 

After speaking so much, her throat was dry. She poured two glasses of water, handing one to Shu Tongyi, whose face was still pale.

 

“He Qingchi.”

 

“What is it?”

 

The room was quiet for several seconds. Shu Tongyi didn’t drink. Her lips were dry, her gaze locked firmly onto the woman in front of her. “I won’t destroy your marriage with Wen Shuchen. But if one day you no longer want him, I won’t give you the chance to take him back.”

 

He Qingchi raised her brows, set her cup down, and said, “So I should take this as you, Shu Tongyi, being always ready to step in as the backup?”

 

“......”

 

Every time she clashed with He Qingchi, Shu Tongyi had to brace herself for the outrageous things this woman might say.

 

Sometimes, she would rather the two of them rip off the masks and fight openly—anything but He Qingchi’s maddeningly casual attitude.

 

“Do you truly love Wen Shuchen?”

 

Without so much as a blink, He Qingchi replied, “Of course. We’re true love. Doesn’t that crush your backup dreams?”

 

“You can sit here listening to my story, and you call that true love?”

 

Shu Tongyi repeated the question, then gave a bitter laugh at herself. “I can’t see through you. What kind of woman doesn’t get jealous…”

 

He Qingchi had gotten jealous once—very subtly. She even called Qu Bixin out in the middle of the night to drown her sorrows in alcohol. But because of her nature, she would never admit it. Her beautiful face stayed calm as she said: “You’re just clinging to pride. If I were you, I’d have seized those many chances years ago—when Wen Shuchen was still single. You had plenty of opportunities to make your move. Now you’re asking whether I get jealous? What’s the point?”

 

“You and he… was it you who made the first move?”

 

Shu Tongyi ignored the jab, focusing only on this point.

 

“Of course not. He was the one who took the initiative.” He Qingchi kept her goddess-like poise. Before marriage, she had never planned on developing anything with Wen Shuchen. It was he who step by step set the traps, played at ambiguity, and coaxed her into marriage.

 

Maintaining intimacy might look difficult, but in truth, when two people spend every day together—doing little things side by side—it becomes effortless.

 

He Qingchi’s world had already grown accustomed to the presence of a man like Wen Shuchen. Sharing the same bed night after night, upon waking, she had gotten used to turning to check whether he was still lying beside her asleep. When she pulled out her phone, she no longer opened Qin Chuan’s WeChat, but instead waited for Wen Shuchen to message her.

 

If you asked her—did she love him?

 

He Qingchi would shake her head. For now, she couldn’t find an answer.

 

But one thing she had to admit: from the moment they met until the day they married, she had once been moved by Wen Shuchen—had once liked him.

 

At this point, He Qingchi had no interest in dissecting her own feelings of love any further.

 

She glanced at the time and said, “I won’t stay for dinner.”

 

“This is a hospital,” Shu Tongyi reminded her expressionlessly, not intending to invite her to a meal anyway.

 

Ten minutes later.

 

He Qingchi left the ward and the hospital. Instead of going to Wen Shuchen’s private residence, she uncharacteristically had the bodyguard drive to Wen Group.

 

Halfway there, He Qingchi received a call from Shu Tongyi’s agent.

 

This time, the other party wasn’t arrogantly questioning her, but sincerely apologizing for what had happened before.

 

He Qingchi put the phone on speaker, unwilling to hold it, and listened to the woman talk on for a full ten minutes.

 

Finally, she lazily cut in, “If in the future something happens to Shu Tongyi and you still come to my husband for help… hmm… then I might just end up confirming those rumors about her being blacklisted.”

 

Hearing this, Shu Tongyi’s agent repeatedly and breathlessly apologized.

 

He Qingchi had heard enough. Once she had made her stance clear, she had no desire to continue dragging out the conversation.

 

But just as she was about to hang up, the agent hesitated, then finally spoke: “Miss He, I was too concerned for Tongyi that day, which is why I spoke so rudely to you. I want to apologize again. Could you please not tell Mr. Wen?”

 

“You’ve apologized, so as far as I’m concerned, this matter is over.” If He Qingchi had wanted to complain, she would have told Wen Shuchen that night in the hospital.

 

She always meant what she said—there was no reason for her to go back on her word afterward.

 

After hanging up, He Qingchi leaned back in the rear seat, her mood noticeably lighter.

 

The driver focused on the road, while the bodyguard dared to strike up a little conversation: “Madam, are you going to see President Wen?”

 

The phrasing was cautious, almost skirting around the words “checking up on him.”

 

He Qingchi smiled. “What? You planning to tip him off?”

 

The bodyguard nearly dropped to his knees explaining, his face flushing red. “I wouldn’t dare.”

 

She found his reaction amusing, and asked, “What’s your name?”

 

The bodyguard, thinking he’d somehow performed poorly earlier, grew conflicted. After a moment’s struggle, he forced himself to answer, “My name is Song Beibei.”

 

He Qingchi narrowed her long, thick lashes, studying the tall, strong man before her—buzz cut, sharp features, dressed in a black suit that made him look more like a gangster than a bodyguard. Finally, she spoke: “Song Beibei? Then what’s your relation to Song Chao?”

 

“Song Chao is my cousin,” Song Beibei admitted, sounding guilty.

 

After all, he had gotten the job through family connections.

 

He Qingchi nodded. “Song Chao does make good use of his ties.”

 

The car went quiet for a while before she asked again, “Did Song Chao used to be called Song Baobao?”

 

Terrified of offending this little ancestor, the bodyguard replied honestly: “Yes, he used to be called Song Baobao. Later, after he became President Wen’s chief secretary, he got sick of his team calling him ‘Baobao’ all the time, so he shortened it to just ‘Chao.’”

 

The driver smoothly pulled the car into Wen Group’s massive parking lot. Through the window, He Qingchi spotted the so-called renamed “Baobao” running toward them from afar.

 

The two cousins made a striking contrast: one tall and imposing, the other delicate and clean-cut.

 

“Madam, what brings you here?” Song Chao rushed over, opened the car door, and bent down to greet He Qingchi respectfully.

 

He had taken the elevator down the moment he got his cousin’s call and was now slightly out of breath.

 

He Qingchi headed toward the elevator, glancing at his smiling face. “I came to check on the company’s operations.”

 

Everyone, including Song Chao, knew she held shares in Wen Group.

 

“So you’ve come as a shareholder today?”

 

Not wanting to use the title of Mrs. Wen, she asked him, “Is that not allowed?”

 

“Of course it is—” Song Chao gestured politely, inviting her into the elevator.

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