Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 54 - How Many More baobaos and beibeis Do You Have?
Chapter 54: How Many More baobaos and beibeis Do You Have?
He Qingchi sat on the sofa, lips curved in a smile. After she’d laughed enough, she finally turned her head toward the man still standing quietly by the desk. Wen Shuchen pressed his thin lips together, head lowered, his deep brows shadowed beneath his short black hair. He slipped off his expensive wristwatch and set it carelessly on the desk with a crisp clink.
“Secretary Song’s desserts are way too sweet. Do you want some?” He Qingchi offered.
“When did you get so familiar with him?” Wen Shuchen asked faintly, his tone betraying no emotion.
He Qingchi parted her lips to reply, “It’s nothing. Isn’t he your personal secretary?”
Wen Shuchen turned. His gaze caught her lounging diagonally on the sofa, chin resting on her arm against the armrest, long lashes arched as she stared out at the high-rise buildings beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The light streaming in softened the delicate lines of her small profile, her lips tinged as though brushed with rouge.
After a pause, he abandoned the question.
He Qingchi lifted her head again, watching as Wen Shuchen checked the time on his phone, then put the wristwatch back on as if the earlier gesture had been pointless. His expression unchanged, he said to her, “I’m going to a meeting—”
“When does it end?”
“Take a nap.”
He didn’t say when it would end. Instead, he strode over, bent down, and brushed his lips lightly against her brow. Like a dragonfly skimming the surface, the kiss lasted barely two seconds, leaving behind only the faintest warmth.
Not wanting to disrupt his work, He Qingchi raised her fair hand and buttoned up the shirt collar she had undone earlier. “Mm, we can’t get married and suddenly turn wild. You look better this way—proper and reserved.”
Wen Shuchen allowed her to tidy him up. After a moment, he slowly left the office.
Outside, Song Chao caught sight of him and instinctively flashed his trademark brilliant smile.
“President Wen—”
But Wen Shuchen didn’t stop. He only turned his head slightly, casting a sidelong glance.
Song Chao froze in place, looking as innocent as a child.
Only when Wen Shuchen’s figure disappeared did he grab someone nearby and whisper, “Did President Wen just glare at me?”
Back inside, He Qingchi lay back down on the sofa to nap. Not ten minutes later, a young female secretary came in with a thin blanket, saying it was President Wen’s instruction.
She draped it over her waist, curled up her slender legs, and settled in.
The office grew quiet. The secretary even lowered the blackout curtains on the glass wall so the light wouldn’t be too bright, helping her drift off faster.
For the entire afternoon, without Wen Shuchen’s orders, no one dared step near the office. Outside, everyone moved carefully, lowering their footsteps and voices.
Even without an official introduction, they had all guessed that this “President He” was absolutely no ordinary president.
By nearly five o’clock, He Qingchi shifted on the sofa and almost rolled off.
Her dark eyes opened, breath catching for a moment. Once she recognized her surroundings, she remembered she was in Wen Shuchen’s office.
The stillness pressed in, filled only by her own breathing. No doubt, the man was still busy with work.
Yawning lazily, she got up and walked to the office door.
Opening it, she found the outer office still bustling with busy elites.
The moment they saw her appear with her hair tousled, all of them froze mid-task.
Faces, all unfamiliar. No sign of Song Chao. “Where’s Song Chao?” she asked.
“He—” One male secretary started to answer, then faltered, stuck between calling her President He or Miss He.
“You’re looking for him? I’ll go call him right away.”
One of them hurried off. The others kept staring at her.
Realizing she might be disturbing their work, He Qingchi gave a faint smile and nodded before retreating back into the office.
Meanwhile, the male secretary found Song Chao in the VIP lounge, standing dutifully by President Wen’s side. Relieved, he called out, “Secretary Song, President He is awake and looking for you.”
The sudden shout caught Song Chao off guard.
The man continued, “Hurry to the office, President He is awake.”
“…” Song Chao felt a chill run down his spine.
Beside him, Wen Shuchen sat on a leather sofa, one hand draped lazily on the armrest, a report on an acquisition plan in the other. His expression was calm, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
That was the problem!
Song Chao was convinced the colleague in front of him must be plotting to oust him.
Fuming inside, he still forced a smile. “President He should be looking for President Wen, not me.”
The secretary said, “I don’t know about that.”
“......”
Song Chao finally turned toward Wen Shuchen, trying to show loyalty. “President Wen, the one in your office has woken up.”
Wen Shuchen leisurely flipped a page of the report, gave a nonchalant “Mm,” and said, “She called for you. I heard it.”
Song Chao froze, unable to move.
“Still not going?” Wen Shuchen didn’t even look at him.
Though the words were spoken, Song Chao dared not move.
Awkwardly stuck in place, while Wen Shuchen remained composed. The other secretary stood there too, oblivious.
At last, after much inward debate, Song Chao cautiously said, “President Wen, perhaps I should invite her over instead.”
Wen Shuchen didn’t even lift his eyelids. Setting the report aside, he reached for his teacup.
The secretary, seeing Song Chao leave, finally realized he himself had lingered in the VIP lounge far too long.
“Um, President Wen, I’ll get back to work.”
But Wen Shuchen stopped him, his thin lips parting with a simple question: “Is Song Chao very popular with women in the company?”
The secretary was dumbfounded. He had never expected to be asked something like that by President Wen.
And yet Wen Shuchen remained so composed, as if it were nothing more than a casual concern for an employee’s love life.
The male secretary thought for a long time but still didn’t know what exactly the boss wanted to hear, so he could only say: “Nowadays women all like pretty boys.”
There was even a faint trace of bitterness and disdain in his tone.
Wen Shuchen took two minutes to analyze the meaning behind those words.
These days, women’s taste leaned toward young men with delicate features, fair skin, preferably with a cheerful, humorous personality—always flashing a bright smile to show off their neat, white teeth.
And Song Chao fit every one of those criteria…
The male secretary couldn’t hold himself back and deliberately threw shade at Song Chao: “Secretary Song loves adding himself into all the departments’ group chats, every day chattering away with the female colleagues. He’s practically defected to their camp—always helping them gang up on us poor male compatriots!”
Wen Shuchen’s expression was thoughtful as he said: “Go back to your post.”
The male secretary shut his mouth and left the VIP lounge.
At this moment, Song Chao still didn’t know he’d just been stabbed in the back. He knocked on the office door but didn’t go in—standing at the doorway, his eyes first landed on He Qingchi, who was indeed awake, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows watching the bustling city outside.
When she saw him, she turned and asked: “Wen Shuchen’s still not done with work?”
Damn it!
Song Chao almost spat out blood. He nearly couldn’t hold it back: “Madam, all this time you’ve just been looking for President Wen?”
He Qingchi didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. Before her nap, Wen Shuchen had made it clear that work came first. If she woke up and immediately insisted on finding him, wouldn’t that make her look like the clingy Mrs. Wen who didn’t know how to read the room?
So she looked for Song Chao instead—what was wrong with that?
Song Chao’s expression was complicated, though he couldn’t openly complain. “Madam, President Wen was worried about disturbing your nap, so he deliberately gave up his office for you.”
“Oh? Then where is he?” He Qingchi asked, already turning back to sit on the sofa.
“President Wen is in the VIP lounge. Madam, would you like to see him?”
“I’m not going.”
“……”
Song Chao felt like this couple was going to kill him with exhaustion.
He Qingchi’s fair fingertips slid through her dark hair as she drawled: “Ask him what time he’s getting off work. I’m hungry.”
That overly sweet dessert at lunch was too much—she hadn’t eaten much, just drank water.
Now her stomach was completely empty.
Song Chao could only accept his fate and go deliver the message.
He Qingchi lounged on the sofa, bored out of her mind, waiting.
After a minute or two, she heard the sound of footsteps entering the office.
She didn’t turn her head. She already knew who it was.
Wen Shuchen’s voice was calm and steady as he set the file in his hand onto the desk: “What do you want for dinner?”
He Qingchi waited for him to ask before lifting her long lashes, finally looking at him: “Private kitchen—the first place you ever took me to.”
Wen Shuchen walked over, bent down, and simply scooped her up from the sofa.
“Hey!”
He Qingchi thought he was really going to carry her straight out of the office. Startled, her eyes widened: “If you do that, people will see!”
“Who are you afraid will see?”
His question left her baffled, but she still answered: “Your company employees, of course.”
“There’s more than one employee in my company. Which one are you afraid of seeing?” Wen Shuchen held her lightly, effortlessly, his deep gaze fixed on her expression.
He Qingchi felt he was being argumentative again—just like how he nitpicked at home when she walked around barefoot.
When she stayed silent, his expression darkened.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” He Qingchi stared at him, scrutinizing.
Other men got called “Baobao.”
But him? All he got was a “Hey.”
Wen Shuchen grumbled silently, but outwardly forced himself to act magnanimous: “It’s nothing. Weren’t you hungry? Let’s eat.”
He set her back on the sofa. Then, kneeling on one knee before her, he picked up her high heels from the floor and carefully put them on her feet.
Downstairs at the Wen Group building, bodyguards were already waiting with the car.
This time Song Chao didn’t come along. Instead, a fresh-faced secretary followed, and among the bodyguards was the tall and burly Song Beibei.
As He Qingchi got into the car, she greeted him: “Beibei…”
The bodyguard smiled back politely, but when his eyes flicked toward President Wen, he immediately straightened up with perfect formality.
Behind her, Wen Shuchen’s temple pulsed twice before he got into the back seat, his face expressionless.
Moments later, the car pulled out of the building and into rush hour traffic.
Inside the car, no one spoke, and the atmosphere grew unusually strained.
He Qingchi kept her head slightly lowered, just opening a mobile game, when the man beside her suddenly asked: “How many more baobaos and beibeis do you have?”
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