Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 61 - He Wasn’t Willing to Kneel for Nothing, not Even Once

October 15, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 61: He Wasn’t Willing to Kneel for Nothing, not Even Once

 

Once He Qingchi’s temper flared, it was hard to rein it in—no matter what, she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

 

Not admitting his mistake was already a crime; admitting it too quickly was an even greater one.

 

She walked out of the kitchen and sat down on the sofa in the living room, while Wen Shuchen simply went down on one knee before her, his hand still trying to clasp her fair fingertips.

 

“You kneel awfully fast this time.”

 

There were no outsiders here, so even if Wen Shuchen cared about his reputation as the face of high society, he still knelt willingly.

 

His gaze was far gentler than usual, fixed on He Qingchi’s still-angry face. In a low voice, he said: “If I don’t kneel, and you finish filming this movie only to take on another one right after, living on set for half a year straight—what am I supposed to do then?”

 

Her sulky little grievance was seen through in one line. Her long lashes lowered, and she tried to pull her hand out of his palm again.

 

This time, Wen Shuchen didn’t give her the chance. He held on firmly—and in the next moment, He Qingchi felt something cool at her fingertips. Looking down, she saw that Wen Shuchen had slipped a wedding ring onto her hand. The size fit perfectly, the diamond’s brilliance dazzling, making her slender, fair fingers look even more delicate and beautiful.

 

How could he be like this—unwilling to kneel for nothing, taking the chance to put a wedding ring on her.

 

Holding her hand, Wen Shuchen brought it to his lips, his voice deliberate and low against her cool skin: “Last week, I went abroad. When I saw this ring at an auction, I thought of you.”

 

The two of them had chosen not to hold a wedding, and they hadn’t prepared wedding rings either.

 

He Qingchi’s marriage had seemed far simpler than others’—just signing a stack of contracts and agreements, and she was wed to him.

 

Now, months later, he was finally making up for the missing wedding ring. His grip on her hand tightened slightly. Outwardly he looked calm, but secretly he seemed afraid she might take it off.

 

He Qingchi understood all too well. With her head lowered, she said softly: “We’ve had a cold war for a month… I was also at fault in this.”

 

Wen Shuchen’s expression showed a hint of surprise—he hadn’t expected her to admit fault?

 

But after a brief pause, her meaning became clear: “I forgot you still haven’t recovered from your emotional indifference. You must have spent a lot of time talking with your therapist this past month, haven’t you? You don’t like kids around the house, do you? Honestly, I don’t have any experience with children either—I’m only twenty-three… it’s a bit early to have kids.”

 

She didn’t look at his face, only reflected on herself, then added: “I got angry, but you still have to forgive me. Who told you to get drunk and act crazy, just for a moment’s pleasure—without even using something thinner than paper—and then say things like wanting me pregnant, making it sound like you meant it?”

 

For a long while after that, Wen Shuchen said nothing, his expression unreadable in the light.

 

He Qingchi finally lifted her head to look at him. Seeing no response for so long, she assumed she had hit on what weighed in his heart.

 

Just then, they were interrupted by a phone call.

 

It was her phone. He Qingchi steadied her breathing a little before answering: “Who is this?”

 

Qu Bixin’s voice came straight to the point: “Is Wen Shuchen at home?”

 

He Qingchi glanced at the man still kneeling before her and said: “He is. You’re looking for him?”

 

There was a pause on the other end. Then Qu Bixin’s voice grew lower: “If Wen Shuchen is at home, then why did Shen Fu tell me he won’t be coming home tonight—that he’s with your husband?”

 

A bad premonition struck He Qingchi. She looked at Wen Shuchen.

 

Qu Bixin’s voice pressed on: “Put your husband on the phone.”

 

He Qingchi could hear the sharpness in her tone, no longer the soft, coy lilt—it was clear she was furious and checking up on him. Without thinking, He Qingchi quickly handed the phone to Wen Shuchen, so she wouldn’t end up suffering for it.

 

From just those few words, Wen Shuchen already guessed what was going on.

 

Taking the phone, he faced Qu Bixin’s questioning calmly, answering unhurriedly.

 

As for Shen Fu’s whereabouts, he didn’t know, and it had nothing to do with him.

 

Finally, Qu Bixin asked directly: “The address you sent me in that screenshot before—where is it?”

 

Wen Shuchen paused for two seconds, then gave her the villa’s address.

 

After a few beeps, Qu Bixin hung up without another word.

 

Listening on the side, He Qingchi pieced things together, staring at him with her dark eyes for a long moment: “You’re covering for Shen Fu?”

 

Wen Shuchen promptly clarified: “Tonight I really was at a club suite with a group of friends, and Shen Fu was there too. He left halfway. Maybe he didn’t tell Qu Bixin the truth and kept some things from her.”

 

He Qingchi half believed, half doubted his words.

 

She thought to herself: if Shen Fu could use Wen Shuchen as cover tonight, then who’s to say Wen Shuchen wouldn’t one day do the same?

 

Looking deeper, maybe this was just how men in their circle usually ‘helped’ each other.

 

Seeing her doubtful look, Wen Shuchen added: “When I was single, my friends always used me as their excuse whenever they stayed out all night.”

 

If he were still single, Qu Bixin wouldn’t be able to check by calling.

 

But marriage was different—one phone call straight to his wife, and everything was exposed.

 

He Qingchi put aside her suspicion for the moment and returned to the other point: “Why did you give her the villa address? If she storms over there, do you think she’ll come out on top against Shen Fu?”

 

Wen Shuchen asked her: “If you’ll spend tomorrow with me, I’ll take you to see it tonight.”

 

Truly, no deal without a bargain—he even negotiated with his own wife like a businessman.

 

He Qingchi did feel a bit tempted, though not out of curiosity.

 

She knew Qu Bixin’s temper all too well.

 

Shen Fu staying out all night, and that woman charging over—it was no different from catching an affair red-handed.

 

If it hadn’t been thrown in her face tonight, He Qingchi wouldn’t have bothered meddling in other people’s private affairs.

 

Now that she knew, it wouldn’t make sense not to go and see for herself.

 

Wen Shuchen could tell she was torn, so he stood up decisively, draped his suit jacket over her shoulders, and took the car keys in hand. “I’ve got another residence at Yinhu Villas. We’ll just treat it like we’re heading home from a hotel.”

 

“……” He actually had two villas in the same place?

 

Led to her feet, He Qingchi couldn’t help but think about it. Even the way she looked at Wen Shuchen had changed.

 

At that moment, she became absolutely certain.

 

If one day, after marriage, Wen Shuchen also started hiding women like Shen Fu did, then even if she turned Jiangcheng upside down, she would probably never find them.

 

Qu Bixin’s call still went unanswered.

 

On the way there, He Qingchi sat in the passenger seat, head down playing with her phone, barely exchanging a word with the man driving.

 

Sensing her stubborn mood, Wen Shuchen—unwilling to let the tension between them drag on—freed one hand and placed it gently on her knee.

 

His palm was warm, the heat seeping through the thin fabric.

 

Before long, that hand began to inch upward.

 

He Qingchi lowered her gaze, watching those long, elegant fingers. Her voice came out soft and even: “Do your villas have a lot of rooms?”

 

“Are you planning to give Qu Bixin one?” Wen Shuchen drove steadily, not letting his little movements compromise their safety.

 

She kept staring at his hand. If she’d worn a skirt tonight, this man would probably be even bolder.

 

She spoke, her voice clear and sharp as a rabbit’s bite: “If the villa has plenty of rooms, there should be enough for you to sleep in.”

 

Wen Shuchen’s hand froze, then withdrew smartly.

 

He Qingchi turned her face toward the window. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional taxi. Streetlights lit the way as Wen Shuchen’s car entered the villa district of Yinhu.

 

Shen Fu’s villa was easy to find—the one blazing with lights.

 

As a property owner, Wen Shuchen wasn’t stopped by security; instead, they guided him directly to the right place.

 

Even before they got out of the car, He Qingchi could see through the windshield Qu Bixin’s car already parked at the entrance. Once Wen Shuchen parked, the two of them stepped out together.

 

“Are we just going in like this?” 

 

He Qingchi suddenly asked.

 

She glanced at the handsome man beside her. Wen Shuchen, eyes fixed straight ahead, told her quietly, “We don’t need to go in.”

 

Puzzled, she followed his gaze. A slim figure in white ran out of the villa, stumbled, and fell onto the lawn.

 

Close behind was Shen Fu. His gold-rimmed glasses were gone, replaced by a black shirt and tailored trousers. In the dark of night, he seemed unnervingly cold, with a suppressed anger radiating from him.

 

From a distance, He Qingchi watched as Shen Fu scooped up the woman—the cellist—and her heart skipped, a sudden sense of foreboding tightening in her chest.

 

Sure enough, moments later Qu Bixin rushed out of the villa. The instant she saw the man she loved holding another woman, her voice cracked, trembling with fury: “Shen Fu, put her down! You’re not allowed to hold her, you hear me?!”

 

For the first time, Shen Fu snapped at Qu Bixin. His profile was carved in ice, voice cutting: “Don’t make me repeat myself. Get in the car and go home.”

 

“Why should I be the one to leave?” Qu Bixin’s black-and-white eyes blazed wide, her emotions pushed to the extreme. She looked almost frightening, a stark contrast to the fragile woman clinging to Shen Fu’s arms.

 

The moment she barged into the villa to check on him, she had already lost completely.

 

But Qu Bixin refused to accept defeat. She stormed down the steps, heels clicking, closing the distance inch by inch. Her eyes brimmed red, heavy with grievance: “Everything you have came from me. What can she possibly give you? Shen Fu! I am your wife in the eyes of the law, your legitimate, proper wife. And what is she?”

 

As she neared, Shen Fu felt the woman in his arms trembling in fear. His brows drew together. But then Shen Tingji tilted her young face upward, quietly meeting Qu Bixin’s wild rage with silence.

 

She hadn’t spoken a single syllable, but in Qu Bixin’s eyes, that silence was provocation.

 

A blatant, living provocation to the legal wife.

 

He Qingchi could already tell this wouldn’t end well. Qu Bixin—so blunt and fiery—was no match for a high-level white lotus like this one.

 

Shen Tingji stayed nestled quietly in Shen Fu’s arms, her white nightgown delicate, her arms and cheeks faintly scratched as though she’d been pushed.

 

She lifted her face, gave Qu Bixin a pale smile, lips parting soundlessly.

 

That was the breaking point. Qu Bixin, completely losing control, spat out: “What’s with her opening her mouth at me like that—what, is she mute?!”

 

The words had barely landed when He Qingchi saw Shen Fu’s face finally change.

 

And she thought to herself: Now Qu Bixin has truly lost.

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