Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 64 - There’s a Curfew at Home
Chapter 64: There’s a Curfew at Home
He Qingchi stayed in the Yinhu Villa all day without going out. She had never thought about it before, but it turned out that as long as she was with someone she liked, even just quietly sitting in the study reading a book, occasionally looking up to see him working at the desk opposite, she wouldn’t feel bored.
When night fell—
He Qingchi reclined on the sofa, a thin blanket draped over her knees to keep warm. After twenty minutes, she set the book down and pulled out her phone to scroll through Weibo.
Last night’s trending topic had already been removed, replaced by new ones. When she saw that profile photo of Duan Jinfan on her own Weibo, she suddenly remembered the jealousy that had radiated from Wen Shuchen when he had kissed her forcefully the night before. She couldn’t help but laugh softly.
So even he had a jealous side.
She put down her phone, then leaned diagonally against the armrest, resting her cheek in her palm, and fixed her gaze on the man sitting upright at the desk. Wen Shuchen looked much more at home now than when he was outside—he wore only a light gray shirt and trousers, no expensive cufflinks or wristwatch, his sleeves rolled up to reveal part of a firm forearm, with the faint trace of a tattoo visible.
Clearly, she preferred seeing this side of him—not so meticulously dressed, giving off a more relaxed air.
His eyes seemed to drift her way now and then, and his light voice followed: “Go make me a cup of coffee.”
He really wasn’t polite when it came to ordering people around now.
He Qingchi slowly stood up, careful not to disturb his work, and walked out of the study.
Five or six minutes later—
A simple hand-brewed coffee with no technical flair was placed on the desk.
He Qingchi then went back to the master bedroom next door. Hugging her pajamas, she showered clean, then lay comfortably on the bed, pulling out her phone again to kill time out of boredom.
On the screen, her fingertip slid up and down a couple of times.
Suddenly, she came across a new post from Duan Jinfan’s Moments. He should already be abroad on vacation by now. Around nine in the evening, he had posted a photo of snowy mountains, but the caption was another matter: [The leading role in the historical drama that was already settled for me has suddenly been canceled. Which bigshot did I offend? Don’t let me die without knowing the cause.]
The post lasted less than two minutes before Duan Jinfan deleted it.
He Qingchi still remembered him saying at the wrap-up banquet that after half a month’s vacation, he would be joining a historical drama crew again.
And now, at such a critical time, his role had been stolen?
After all, they had spent a few months together in the same crew, so she felt a certain camaraderie. She opened their chat and sent him a message of concern.
Duan Jinfan, already in no mood to enjoy his vacation abroad, had been bombarded with private messages asking what had happened. He had just replied to one when he saw her message and quickly responded: “The historical drama I was supposed to film suddenly said they were replacing the male lead. They’ve already found someone else. I don’t know which bigshot doesn’t like me and secretly pulled strings to push me out.”
He Qingchi could understand his feelings. After all, she herself had once been cast in a crew, only to have her role almost snatched away by Shu Tongyi parachuting in. She had experienced something similar, so after chatting with him a bit, she could only try to comfort him.
Duan Jinfan didn’t really want to complain—he just wanted to know clearly who he had offended that caused such a thing.
“By the way, you’re wrapping up soon too, right?”
“Almost, less than half a month…” she replied.
Not long after, Duan Jinfan sent her a voice message inviting her: “Our on-screen couple CP has been really well-received online. Would you consider taking a modern drama together with me in the second half of the year?”
Before, neither Duan Jinfan nor his management team had any intention in that direction. But now, with his historical drama role stolen, his schedule would free up for the next three months. Coincidentally, a modern drama had come knocking with an offer.
He could pick the female lead, and he wanted to recommend He Qingchi.
She listened to the voice message twice but didn’t reply immediately.
In fact, she had already decided from the start—once she finished Guo Dao’s film, she wouldn’t accept any more scripts. She never planned to officially stay in the entertainment industry.
So she simply thanked him for his offer and found a reason to decline politely.
They didn’t continue the conversation. Instead, she messaged Guo Dao to confirm she would be joining filming tomorrow.
The next morning, around 7:30—
He Qingchi woke up to her alarm. When she lifted the blanket, the man beside her was still lying there, his long hand tugging at the corner of her nightdress, exposing a patch of white skin on her leg.
“I’ll help you ask for leave from the crew this morning.”
The same line again.
She pulled her nightdress back, then sat on the edge of the bed, tidying her messy long hair: “You stay in bed and amuse yourself.”
Wen Shuchen had already been awake, but wasn’t in a rush. He only got up when he saw her grab her clothes and run into the bathroom.
His footsteps went first to the walk-in closet, where he picked out a navy blue suit. After a moment, he walked to the bathroom door, half-dressed in a white shirt.
Inside, He Qingchi had already changed—an ankle-length black dress that made her figure look slender and graceful, with a beautiful curve to her chest. Her long black hair hung loose, and in the clear mirror above the sink, her delicate face was perfectly reflected.
Wen Shuchen paused at the door, admiring the woman as she groomed herself for quite some time. When she finished washing her face and turned around, spotting him there, she asked: “You’re going to wash up too?”
“Mm,” he answered, stepping inside at her unspoken invitation.
He Qingchi dried the water droplets from her fingertips with a white towel. Since she was done, she automatically made space for him.
But just as she was about to leave, his arm blocked her at the sink.
Wen Shuchen lowered his head, his handsome face inching closer and closer. The bright light from the lamp and the window made every detail clear—his long lashes no less striking than a woman’s.
“Hey?”
Sensing his intentions, He Qingchi instinctively turned her face away.
Wen Shuchen paused for a moment, then noticed out of the corner of his eye the wedding ring she had left on the side while washing up—clearly, she had forgotten to put it back on. His gaze deepened as it returned to He Qingchi’s face, and in a low, steady voice he accused her of one offense after another: “You call me hey, don’t even wear your ring… Looks like you still don’t have the awareness of being Mrs. Wen.”
He Qingchi’s lashes lowered. Sure enough, her ring finger was bare.
“I was just washing up, I was afraid it might fall off so…” She prepared her excuse, lifting her head halfway through her explanation—when Wen Shuchen suddenly leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.
The sudden move caught He Qingchi completely off guard. Her dark eyes widened slightly, but before she could react, his strong arm had lifted her onto the sink counter. Her back touched the cold surface of the mirror, snapping a thread of clarity back into her mind.
It was as if Wen Shuchen was making up for an entire month of restraint. Even ten minutes later, he showed no signs of letting her go. When he finally gave her a few seconds to breathe, he leaned in again, unwilling to part from her lips.
Instead of pushing him away, He Qingchi found herself enjoying the fresh, clean scent of him, and the intimacy of their kiss. At that moment, it felt like all distance between them was gone, the rest of the world sealed outside. This was a moment that belonged only to them.
Her long lashes fluttered open, and her pale, slender fingers instinctively cradled his striking face as she kissed him back with focus and intent.
Five or six minutes passed.
Wen Shuchen finally released her lips. Very restrained this time, he didn’t continue. Instead, through the mirror, he gazed clearly at the disheveled state they were both in.
He Qingchi rested her cheek against his collarbone, unable to hold back a small laugh.
She looked to be in a very good mood.
Holding her in his arms, Wen Shuchen remained standing by the sink, making no move to let go just yet. His voice had turned husky: “From now on, what are you going to call me?”
He Qingchi tilted her head up, blinking her lashes: “President Wen?”
The overly formal title made his expression shift ever so slightly.
Amused, He Qingchi dragged out her words teasingly: “Shuchen?”
This time, Wen Shuchen’s face eased, but it was clear he still wasn’t satisfied.
He stood his ground, silently waiting.
He Qingchi realized what he wanted to hear. Compared to “Shuchen,” it felt even more awkward to say aloud. Her skin was already pale, but the heat rising to her cheeks made the flush obvious.
It took her quite a while to work up the courage.
She bit her lip gently, her voice soft, almost inaudible, as she whispered two syllables: “...Husband.”
Wen Shuchen’s eyes lit up with satisfaction. Holding her face in his palm, he said in a deep voice: “From now on, only this. If you dare call me by name again—deal with the consequences yourself.”
He Qingchi was still a little flustered, about to reply, when he suddenly released her.
“Your husband needs to wash up. Take your ring and head out first.” Wen Shuchen slipped back into his usual composed demeanor, even stepping back to put some space between them—as though unaffected by her presence, deliberately pulling them away from the intimacy.
He Qingchi froze for a beat. Who was it just now who refused to let her leave?
……
Fifteen minutes later.
When Wen Shuchen finished washing up, He Qingchi was already waiting for him downstairs.
After they quietly finished breakfast, the bodyguards had the car ready outside. With their relationship newly mended, Wen Shuchen—having learned from past mistakes—naturally wouldn’t allow the driver to take her to set alone.
He had no intention of spending another month in an empty bed.
So, he told Song Chao to push his morning meetings to noon, and personally drove He Qingchi to the Hengdian film set.
After the phone call Wen Shuchen had made at the wrap-up banquet—insisting she be the one to sober him up—their relationship had already become transparent to Director Guo and the assistant director.
He Qingchi noticed him instructing the driver to pull into Hengdian, but said nothing. Only when they were about to arrive did she suddenly remark: “Last night, Director Guo actually used formal honorifics when speaking to me.”
Wen Shuchen held her cool hand and smiled warmly: “He should show respect to his investor’s wife.”
He Qingchi sighed softly, leaning her head on his shoulder, deciding it didn’t matter anymore.
After all, in just a few days, she’d be wrapped from filming.
The driver parked and reminded softly: “President Wen, we’ve arrived.”
Wen Shuchen slid his arm around her waist, his lips brushing her cheek as he murmured: “I’ll come pick you up tonight. Even if you have a night shoot, no matter how late—I’ll still come.”
He was afraid she’d brush him off again with “I’m busy filming.”
He Qingchi, on her own initiative, pressed a kiss with her red lips against his jaw: “I’ll remember.”
Wen Shuchen reciprocated with a brief kiss on her lips.
He Qingchi chuckled, lifted her skirt slightly, and stepped out of the car.
The moment she steadied herself, she noticed the driver had pulled right into the filming lot. The crew recognized the black Rolls-Royce as the investor’s car and didn’t dare stop it. Within minutes, many eyes had turned toward her.
They hadn’t recognized the car’s owner, but seeing He Qingchi—someone with no rumored background—step out of such a luxury car, the immediate assumption was obvious:
—“Wow, she must’ve caught the attention of some sugar daddy after just one film.”
—“Clearly. A starlet like her, barely debuted and already riding high—of course she has backing. Just kept under wraps. I heard she only got into this project because some middle-aged tycoon pulled strings for her.”
— “Not long ago, when He Qingchi was trending, a gossip blogger revealed that rumor has it she’s actually part of some real estate tycoon’s harem, and she’s his latest favorite.”
— “That blogger said the big boss behind her is insanely rich, but he has a wife and kids. He’d never divorce for her—he just sneaks her out of the set to sleep with her once in a while, then drops her back the next day to keep filming.”
— “I heard he’s showering her with resources, even gave her the keys to a villa!”
He Qingchi was already used to hearing such gossip in the crew. Calmly, she pulled out her wedding ring and slid it onto her bare finger in front of everyone, not bothering to explain or argue.
She was just about to head toward the dressing room when a sound behind her caught her attention.
Looking back, she saw that the car behind her still hadn’t driven off. Instead, the door opened.
Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Wen Shuchen stepped out in a tailored suit, walked over, and personally handed her a set of villa keys. The entire area fell into silence as his deep voice carried clearly: “Our home has a new access system… remember to come back before dark.”
He Qingchi froze for a second but still accepted the keys with composure.
Ignoring all the stares, Wen Shuchen leaned a little closer and said, “I’ll personally call Director Guo.”
It was time to put an end to the gossip.
Their eyes met, and He Qingchi slowly smiled.
That was as good as an open acknowledgment—they were making their marriage public.
The crew, who had been gossiping endlessly about which actress was “involved with the investor,” finally realized it wasn’t Shu Tongyi but He Qingchi—the cool, aloof beauty in cheongsam dresses.
No wonder she never bothered cozying up to anyone in the crew.
And compared to being someone’s “kept woman,” her status as the legal wife was legitimate—and formidable.
From that moment on, no one dared whisper scandal about her. Instead, many eagerly tried to cozy up to her. Within a single day, news that she and the investor were married spread throughout the entire set.
For the next three or four days, He Qingchi quietly finished her remaining scenes.
She didn’t put on airs, but she wasn’t especially warm to anyone either.
Just like always, she filmed, left, and returned on time the next day—never delaying others.
Each time, Wen Shuchen personally dropped her off, no longer hiding their relationship.
A week later, He Qingchi finally wrapped her part in the film.
That day, she wore the crew’s blue cheongsam, her long black hair loosely pinned back, showing her delicate features. Her grace and figure were impeccable—even with cream smeared on her during the wrap-up photo shoot, her beauty couldn’t be concealed.
“Xiao He, let’s work together again in the future.”
Director Guo said, his tone far gentler ever since he learned about the man behind her.
The filming was over, and even if there had been past friction, there was no reason to hold grudges.
She smiled politely, finishing her work, and finally felt a wave of relief.
“By the way, I booked a private room tonight to celebrate your wrap…” Guo Dao asked deliberately, “Will President Wen be joining?”
It was his wife’s wrap party—surely he’d come?
Meeting his expectant gaze, He Qingchi thought for a moment and said, “He probably can’t make it. He has his own engagements.”
Guo Dao looked a little disappointed but didn’t press.
That evening, around seven, the crew took several cars to the luxurious Penglai Palace. As Guo Dao put it, only such a venue was worthy of the man behind her.
Wen Shuchen himself didn’t show up, but Song Chao came in his stead and covered all expenses for the night.
Representing the investor, Song Chao didn’t dare put on any airs in front of He Qingchi. He even held up his glass, prepared to block drinks for her.
In the middle of the lively dinner, He Qingchi’s phone rang.
Seeing Duan Jinfan’s name, she excused herself to a quiet hallway.
When she answered, she joked: “Director Guo was just saying you couldn’t come to my wrap party tonight. What, did you change your mind?”
Silence. Duan Jinfan didn’t say anything for a long time.
Calling without speaking—what kind of habit was that?
He Qingchi frowned. “Do you have something to say?”
Finally, Duan Jinfan spoke, voice tight with emotion: “He Qingchi, is there some misunderstanding between us?”
She blinked, not following. He rephrased: “Or have I done something to offend you? Was it about last time, when my mother issued a PR statement denying those rumors on the night of my wrap party? Did that upset you?”
His questions left her baffled. He spoke so quickly she didn’t even have a chance to interrupt. “The whole crew is saying the investor of this film, President Wen, is your husband, isn’t he?”
This was no longer a secret. Calmly, she admitted: “Yes. Wen Shuchen is my husband.”
“Then why did he secretly blacklist me from the male lead role in my next project?”
Duan Jinfan dropped the bomb.
He Qingchi was stunned, repeating in disbelief: “Wen Shuchen blacklisted you? Why would he do that?”
That was exactly why Duan had called to confront her. Yet hearing her confusion, he hesitated before saying: “I only found out today, after pulling strings everywhere to figure out why I lost the role. Someone told me it was President Wen’s order—he wanted to teach me a lesson.”
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