Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 59 - Need Someone to Sober Him Up

October 09, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 59: Need Someone to Sober Him Up

 

The private room door closed, instantly shutting out the lively noise inside.

 

Clicking along in her high heels, He Qingchi walked from the corridor to the open-air balcony. Outside, the night was at its deepest, the darkness dotted silently with faint halos from the streetlights. She leaned lightly against the railing, the night wind brushing her cheeks and hair. Her finger pressed the screen to answer the call.

 

At first, He Qingchi said nothing, just listening to the slow sound of a man’s breathing on the other end.

 

This had happened once before, when Wen Shuchen wanted to stay overnight at the crew’s hotel. But He Qingchi had firmly refused. She had night scenes to shoot, and by the time she returned she was already exhausted, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. She had no energy left to deal with him, only wanting a proper rest.

 

Besides—there was also the fact that the crew’s hotel had terrible soundproofing.

 

Now Wen Shuchen was calling to ask, and He Qingchi spoke plainly: “Tonight the male lead wrapped up his scenes, and Director Guo arranged a dinner.”

 

There was silence on the other end for a long while.

 

He Qingchi didn’t rush him to speak. In the dim light, her shadow blurred against the wall. With the phone on speaker set aside, she took a lighter and pack of cigarettes from her bag, lit one, and let the thin stream of smoke drift upward, only to be carried away quickly by the night wind.

 

At last, Wen Shuchen spoke just a few words: “Then have a good time.”

 

His tone betrayed not the slightest trace of emotion.

 

He Qingchi heard it with perfect clarity. After that, he didn’t say another word.

 

Not even the faint sound of his breathing came through anymore.

 

Another stretch of silence fell.

 

After a long while, He Qingchi flicked her half-smoked cigarette into the trash bin. She was just about to speak when she noticed the phone screen had gone dark. Picking it up, she saw it had automatically shut down.

 

Probably out of battery…

 

She gave it a glance, then stayed a few more minutes on the balcony, letting the night breeze carry away the last traces of smoke from her clothes. Only then did she return to the private room.

 

At the same time, elsewhere, Wen Shuchen looked down at his abruptly disconnected phone. A man who never so easily revealed his emotions could not quite suppress them now; his expression gradually darkened.

 

Inside the club’s private room sat several other men. It wasn’t often they saw Wen Shuchen hung up on, and they watched with great interest. Fubi Group’s young master Da, teased, “These days everyone’s crazy about shipping couples online to hit the trending list. If you’re worried about your wife, why sit here brooding like a resentful woman and checking up on her? Just send a few guys to grab that pretty boy and see who she spends the night with then.”

 

“Shen Wen, you’re quite something—”

 

The others laughed, while Young Master Da shrugged lazily: “Flattered, flattered. Just speaking from experience.”

 

Wen Shuchen ignored them, redialing the number.

 

This time, it showed her phone was off.

 

“Speaking of experience,” Young Master Da smirked, turning to the man in the corner, “our Mr. Shen here is quite the talent as well.” The dim light caught Shen Fu sitting on the sofa, his refined, cold features framed by gold-rimmed glasses.

 

Everyone here more or less knew each other’s backgrounds. Even if Shen Fu hadn’t come from a powerful family, he’d carved out his own place in the wealthy circles through ability alone. To a nouveau-riche like Young Master Da, he could at least be considered a kindred spirit.

 

Shen Fu was long used to being made a topic of gossip. He was the first to stand and excuse himself, with a simple reason: “Something came up. Can’t stay out all night.”

 

“Your socialite wife Qu really keeps you on that short of a leash?”

 

Young Master Da chuckled, lighting a cigarette. “Doesn’t sound like your style, being tied down so obediently.”

 

Shen Fu gave no reply, just picked up his suit jacket and slipped out.

 

With his main target gone, Young Master Da glanced around, then at the empty seat next to Wen Shuchen, and arched a brow: “Why don’t we call in some young ladies? Since your wife’s already trending online, we can spice things up with our own posts.”

 

“Post them on Moments? You think Mrs. Wen would even see it?”

 

“Then let our Mr. Wen post it himself!” Young Master Da added, fanning the flames.

 

For ten whole minutes, Wen Shuchen kept dialing. Each time: still off. At last, he gave up, slid the phone back into his pocket, and finally glanced at his circle of so-called friends. His voice was slow, unhurried: “Why don’t we invite your father-in-law from next door to join in on the fun?”

 

Everyone knew Young Master Da, who wasn’t afraid of his ballerina wife, was absolutely terrified of his father-in-law.

 

As if someone had struck a nerve, Young Master Da’s tone instantly changed: “What’s so fun about women anyway? Let’s set up a card game instead.”

 

Wen Shuchen was the second to leave, uninterested.

 

He had his secretary settle the bill for the private room. On his way out, Young Master Da still called after him with a smirk: “Married men, no freedom left. Even our Mr. Wen can’t escape… Back then, whenever I wanted to get out of the house, I’d tell my father-in-law you were coming back from overseas to discuss a project, and a few of us would get together for a poker game. A few days later, I’d say you were heading back abroad, so we’d ‘gather’ one more time. But now look—just married, and already under the thumb. Guess we’ve lost our best cover story for staying out all night.”

 

The rowdy chatter slowly faded as the door closed firmly shut again.

 

Standing outside, Wen Shuchen’s face was calm, composed, yet faintly distant. He adjusted his cufflinks with long fingers, and walked unhurriedly—straight toward the elevators.

 

Meanwhile, online, the buzz was still climbing. At 9:50 p.m., Duan Jinfan’s personal studio issued a statement clarifying the rumors sparked by the photo. Fans immediately flocked to He Qingchi’s Weibo instead.

 

—“Obvious, Duan’s mother-fans are doing PR. He Qingchi, you better hold your ground!”

 

—“Just wish her happiness.”

 

—“Ughhh, I’m simping her pics again. Even without a cheongsam, her visuals kill. No makeup tonight and her skin’s still glowing white.”

 

—“Am I the only one noticing He Qingchi’s face is 100% natural? Factory settings! Way more authentic than a certain plastic surgery queen.”

 

—“Shut up, you fake CP fan!!!”

 

Fans were fired up in the comments. Although Su Tongyi’s old plastic surgery scandal got dragged up again, it didn’t stir much heat. Soon, the crew’s official Weibo posted a celebratory wrap photo of the entire cast. The actresses had all dressed up meticulously—except He Qingchi, who wore a loose white sweatshirt and sky-blue wide-leg pants. Her long black hair hung casually over her shoulders. The look was down-to-earth, almost youthful.

 

And yet, the deadliest thing was—this casual, unpolished appearance made her beauty stand out even more.

 

—“I declare: marry Duan Jinfan and He Qingchi right now!”

 

—“Honestly, looking across the whole entertainment industry, this level of beauty at such a young age? Once in a century. Jinfan, work harder! For your future son’s genes, you can’t miss this woman!”

 

—“We demand crumbs! Give us sugar! Announce the relationship already!”

 

Right amid all the frantic shipping comments, a jarring reply suddenly appeared: “He Qingchi is already married. And her husband is even more handsome than Duan Jinfan.”

 

That comment didn’t even last two minutes before it was attacked head-on by a swarm of fans.

 

—“Hahahaha, did you forget your meds? The official profile says He Qingchi is only twenty-three, how could she possibly be married at such a young age!”

 

—“Where did this random smurf account come from? Not a single follower. Please, at least fix your nickname and avatar before spreading rumors, okay?”

 

—“More handsome than Duan Jinfan? What, is he supposed to be a god?”

 

“President Wen, these fangirls are insane.”

 

Inside the car.

 

Song Chao was holding his phone—he had just left one comment under He Qingchi’s Weibo, never expecting to be instantly drowned in ridicule.

 

As he scrolled through the replies, he grumbled furiously, “President Wen, they’re even telling you to remember to take your medicine tonight…”

 

Wen Shuchen sat in the shadows of the back seat. His expression couldn’t be seen clearly, but his gaze swept sharply over.

 

Song Chao immediately shut his mouth. After a moment, trying to ease the tension, he added: “President Wen, should I find someone to delete all this?”

 

“Delete it for what?”

 

Wen Shuchen’s voice was cool, not much better than Song Chao’s earlier irritation.

 

Song Chao no longer dared to spout any more bad ideas, or it might cost him his life.

 

The driver pulled up in front of the club entrance, but no one got out right away. They all waited for instructions.

 

At that moment, Song Chao studied Wen Shuchen’s expression in the back seat, then made a call to Director Guo: “It’s me, it’s me, President Wen’s secretary, Xiao Song!”

 

Director Guo was slightly tipsy, but as soon as he heard it was the investor’s secretary calling, he instantly sobered up: “Secretary Song, is there something you need?”

 

Song Chao said, “Nothing serious. President Wen had a bit to drink, and now he’s just short of someone to help sober him up.”

 

Everyone who’s spent time in these decadent circles knew what “sober up” really implied.

 

Director Guo quickly said, “In Secretary Song’s opinion, who might be suitable for President Wen’s taste?”

 

Song Chao glanced at the back seat before replying: “The one on tonight’s trending search isn’t bad.”

 

Director Guo’s mind immediately went in circles. If it were meant to be Moive Queen Shu, Song Chao wouldn’t have needed to call him—he could’ve contacted her directly. Which meant it had to be the one currently most talked about online.

 

That left Director Guo in a bind. He didn’t want to offend the investor, but he had to be honest: “That one’s a little aloof, might be hard to arrange.”

 

Song Chao kept his tone official: “Director Guo will surely find a way.”

 

Dumping the problem onto Director Guo, he then gave him the hotel address and room number—close by, just down the street, no need for a cab.

 

……

Meanwhile, after hanging up, Director Guo was silently cursing.

 

All he’d wanted at first was for He Qingchi to take off her cheongsam for a scene, and she’d already nearly stormed off the production. If she were asked to “sober up” the investor tonight, who knew what chaos that might cause?

 

But Song Chao left him no chance to suggest another actress. Director Guo’s expression grew complicated as his gaze fell on the woman chatting and laughing with Duan Jinfan.

 

He Qingchi had had a few drinks, her cheeks tinted with a soft blush under the light. She was teasing Duan Jinfan about his mother’s quick PR response to the online rumors, smiling lightly: “Once tonight’s dinner wraps up, will your mom put me on her blacklist?”

 

Duan Jinfan answered seriously, “My mom told me not to talk to you at all during dinner.”

 

“Your mom really protects you well.” He Qingchi thought to herself that if she ever had a handsome, wildly popular son like Duan Jinfan, she might also want to keep him as her personal treasure, unwilling to let some woman just snatch away such “property.”

 

But when the thought of children surfaced, her smile faded slightly.

 

A faint, indescribable feeling welled in her chest, and her good mood slipped away.

 

At that moment, Director Guo whispered something to the assistant director, who then hurried over to her: “Xiao He.”

 

The moment he spoke, He Qingchi’s brows knitted slightly—his breath reeked of alcohol.

 

Unaware, the assistant director rambled on with empty pleasantries, gesturing wildly, before finally getting to the point: “Do you have time tonight?”

 

He Qingchi blinked, a little puzzled. “Why?”

 

“Don’t be nervous… could you do us a favor? Here’s the thing, Director Guo had arranged to meet the investor, President Wen, tonight to discuss business. But he’s had too much to drink and can’t go. Could you possibly go instead? It’s just at the hotel on the next street—very close.”

 

The private room was filled with laughter, but amidst the noise, He Qingchi caught a few distinct words.

 

—Investor. President Wen. Hotel.

 

The assistant director slipped a small folded note into her palm, whispering conspiratorially: “Just hand this note to President Wen.”

 

Afraid she’d refuse, he quickly excused himself, pretending to head for the restroom, and vanished.

 

Meanwhile, Director Guo had also been “helped out” by his assistant, their act seamless.

 

Sitting there, He Qingchi lowered her long lashes. Slowly, she unfolded the slip of paper.

 

On it, a single line was written: [President Wen, I’ve brought the person.]

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