Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 68 - Listen to a Story
Chapter 68: Listen to a Story
At five in the morning, the whole city was unusually quiet, the air carrying a faint chill.
The streetlights had long since gone out. Along the downtown roads, a black Rolls-Royce cut through the fresh, cold air, heading straight for a private mansion in the wealthy district. Soon, it pulled up in front of the villa.
A black-suited bodyguard stepped down first from the passenger side and respectfully opened the door.
Wen Shuchen got out, sharp in his tailored suit. His complexion, under the early morning light, looked cold and aloof. Draping a black overcoat over his shoulders, he strode steadily toward the villa.
He went upstairs to the second floor. The hallway was dim and silent, and the master bedroom door was tightly shut.
Wen Shuchen first checked on He Qingchi, who was still asleep. Curled under the white quilt, she revealed only half her delicate face. Her long lashes were closed, making her look docile, like a small animal. He didn’t even step closer to the bed; just back from outside, the chill of the night still clung to him.
The clock slowly ticked toward 5:50. Wen Shuchen turned to the walk-in closet, changed into casual clothes, then gently pulled the bedroom door shut as he left, his footsteps fading away.
Just then, the alarm clock on the nightstand rang loudly.
He Qingchi was roused from her sleep, still groggy.
She reached a pale hand out from the quilt, fumbled for the vibrating phone, switched off the alarm with her eyes closed, then let it drop back in place.
Frowning, she pressed her face back into the pillow for a while.
Five minutes later, she suddenly sat up, lifted the quilt, and got out of bed.
Barefoot, she stepped onto the cold floor, walked to the window, and pulled open the curtains.
It was already light.
Lowering her lashes, she noticed the black Rolls-Royce parked outside the villa gate. That meant Wen Shuchen had already come home.
She didn’t linger. After washing up in the bathroom, she slipped into a robe and left the master bedroom.
On the first floor, in a side room, was an area set up with fitness equipment.
Every morning when He Qingchi woke, Wen Shuchen was already done exercising—immaculate in his suit, elegant at the breakfast table. She had never actually seen him work out, but she knew his routine was strict and disciplined.
He usually started around six and finished by seven.
When she appeared, Wen Shuchen had already taken off his shirt and hung it aside. With his back to her, lit by the soft mix of indoor and morning light, his strong arms were taut, tattoos winding across the muscles.
He was the kind of man who looked slim in clothes but muscular without them. In suits, he appeared lean and tall, but shirtless, he had the physique of a male model, perfectly proportioned. Freed from the gentleman’s attire, he radiated a hard-edged masculinity.
He Qingchi quietly watched him exercise. When he turned, he finally noticed her standing at the doorway.
“You’re up?” Sweat glistened faintly on his forehead, and his expression carried a trace of surprise.
After all, it was rare for her to be awake this early, much less downstairs.
She watched him casually towel off his sweat. Even post-workout, he didn’t look disheveled—just a little tousled, his shirt sticking damply to his back.
Leaning lazily against the doorframe, wrapped loosely in her robe, she looked up at him and, after a pause, murmured two words with a nasal, almost coy tone: “Big brother—”
Wen Shuchen’s expression froze for a moment, then he smiled gently. “What did you just call me?”
Whether he hadn’t heard clearly, or he just wanted her to say it again, it was impossible to tell.
She just wanted to check if she called him big brother.
He Qingchi only said it once. Watching him approach, she didn’t flinch, only asked calmly, “Has no one ever called you that before?”
Wen Shuchen didn’t answer. Instead, he caught her wrist, about to pull her closer—until she winced in pain.
Only then did he notice the brace on her wrist, her eyes looking watery, pitiful. “My hand hurts…”
“What happened to your hand?” His expression immediately turned tense, completely unaware he was the cause.
She wouldn’t let him take off the brace to check. Lowering her lashes, she said, “I accidentally dislocated it last night.”
His brows furrowed deeply, insisting on seeing for himself.
Her fair wrist was medicated, and after a night it had improved a lot.
At least the swelling was gone, and the finger-shaped bruises no longer showed.
His dark gaze lingered on it. Quietly, he asked, “When did this happen?”
“When I went to see you for treatment. I tripped on the stairs,” He Qingchi answered, tilting her face up to him. She knew he’d find out about her visit to Dr. Meng anyway, so there was no point in hiding it.
But to her surprise, Wen Shuchen didn’t mention it at all, as though she hadn’t been there.
Holding her fragile wrist with exquisite care, he lowered his head, pressing his lips gently to her skin for several seconds. Up close, He Qingchi could smell the faint musk of sweat from his workout—not unpleasant, but heavy with raw masculinity.
Her lashes fluttered nervously, and she held her breath as she asked softly, “Last night, when I went to see you during treatment, you were asleep. Is that how Dr. Meng usually hypnotizes you?”
Wen Shuchen led her out of the gym and back into the living room. They both sat on the sofa.
Still tending carefully to her wrist, he replied unhurriedly, “From now on, I’ll try to go during the day. At night, I’ll stay home with you.”
He Qingchi stayed quiet for a couple of seconds. Seeing him dodge the question, she didn’t press further.
Sensing her subtle shift in mood, he paused, then added, “When I was young, I was kidnapped. It left me with psychological scars. Meng Qingchang uses hypnosis to help me face those memories.”
He Qingchi’s red lips moved, but she never asked the question.
So, that “little sister” he mentioned—was it connected to the kidnapping?
She stared at Wen Shuchen for a long while, then suppressed her doubts, and suddenly smiled faintly, calling him: “Big brother?”
A flicker of emotion surfaced in Wen Shuchen’s eyes. For a moment he was stunned, before his lips curved into a gentle smile, his voice low and soft: “This time I heard it. You called me big brother.”
He Qingchi leaned in on her own, resting her head on his shoulder, whispering: “Calling you big brother makes you sound younger. Has any other woman ever called you that before? Big brother?”
Wen Shuchen lowered his head, gazing at her smiling face up close. His mood lifted with hers. “No.”
“Then have you ever called any woman ‘little sister’?” He Qingchi’s expression seemed jealous, on purpose lifting her fingertips to pinch the handsome face before her.
Wen Shuchen easily caught her hand, carefully avoiding her injured wrist. His lips pressed into a thin line as he said: “Big brother and little sister? I’m not that kind of man…”
“I see…” He Qingchi took the hint and stopped pressing.
Because of her dislocated wrist, she didn’t go out during the following half month, staying obediently at the villa to recuperate.
Fortunately, Wen Shuchen kept his word. He rarely went to Dr. Meng’s at night anymore; when work ended, he often pushed away business dinners and came straight home to keep her company.
He Qingchi counted the days until Wen Shuchen had to go abroad for a project negotiation.
When she learned of this, it was past nine in the evening, the sky already pitch black. She was sitting on the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, drying her damp hair with a white towel, when the man suddenly mentioned his schedule.
She blinked, startled for a second, then asked: “When will you be back?”
“Half a month, at the soonest ten days.” Wen Shuchen sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. The wall lamp cast light away from him, leaving his figure steeped in quiet shadows.
He Qingchi quickly did the math—not that long. “Oh, all right.”
Wen Shuchen’s gaze lingered on her profile for a few seconds. His voice lowered, tone deliberately gentle: “You could travel abroad for a few days. I’ll have Song Chao personally accompany you.”
In the past, he’d always prevented Song Chao from having much contact with her, especially in private, showing his petty jealousy in full. But now he was pretending to be generous, using Song Chao as bait.
Unfortunately, Song Chao had little appeal for He Qingchi. Without hesitation, she refused: “You’ll be busy with work abroad. What’s the point of me staying in a hotel every day? I won’t go. I’ll wait for you at home.”
Wen Shuchen: “…”
After drying her hair, she tossed aside the towel and went to the bathroom for the hairdryer.
When she came out five or six minutes later, the man was still in the same spot, sitting unmoved on the edge of the bed.
He Qingchi walked over and sat sideways beside him, tilting her head with a smile. “You’re sulking about that?”
“I’m not sulking.” Wen Shuchen lifted his hand to rub her hair, noticing the warmth still left from the dryer.
He Qingchi leaned her face into his palm. The night was deep and silent, their breathing the only sound. On purpose, her lips brushed his ear as she whispered: “Do you want to… tonight?”
Wen Shuchen held her gaze, her smiling eyes stirring something in him.
Because of her wrist injury, earlier that morning Song Chao had relayed the doctor’s strict warnings to him word for word—especially that “no strenuous activity” line.
Though it wasn’t explicit, Wen Shuchen had abided by it.
Half a month passed without him touching her much.
Usually, he was the one to initiate, while she half-resisted, half-yielded. If his strength slipped out of control, she’d need painkillers afterward…
It was rare for her to give him such a clear signal.
He Qingchi’s fingertips tugged lightly, untying the sash of her robe. The champagne-colored fabric slid from her pale shoulders, following the curve of her figure before pooling on the floor.
She stood straight before him, long black hair barely covering her smooth back. Her shoulder blades, delicate as butterfly wings, showed faintly under the light. Her skin, in the hazy glow, was exquisite and soft…
The next morning.
Wen Shuchen left with his elite team for an overseas trip. Their flight was at 7:30 a.m. By the time He Qingchi woke groggily in the master bedroom, the man’s presence was long gone.
She dozed until nearly nine before truly waking, sitting on the bed in her bathrobe, hair loose, staring into space for a while.
When she rose, her body still ached faintly.
She closed her eyes, images from the night before flashing in her mind. Her hand unconsciously touched her pale knee.
After washing up, she put on a high-neck, fitted long dress that covered her slender neck and knees, then tied up her black hair in a high ponytail, exposing her refined features. Her bearing and aura looked impeccable.
On top of that, she carefully applied delicate makeup and lipstick.
She looked every bit like a wife on her husband’s first day away on a business trip—ready to set herself free.
“Madam, are you going somewhere?” The villa guard saw her heading out and stepped forward respectfully.
He Qingchi, treating him like a driver, slid into the back seat and said, “To the Wen residence. I have lunch with Madam Qiu.”
The guard didn’t dare question further. “Yes, ma’am.”
He Qingchi sat quietly, watching the cityscape pass outside the window.
On the way to the old house, perhaps fearing she’d stand her up, Qiu Jin even called her personally.
On the surface, neither woman had torn off the mask. With her reputation as a traditional socialite from the He family still intact, He Qingchi wasn’t about to make things ugly with Qiu Jin. When she arrived at the old house, a polite smile was fixed on her face.
Qiu Jin was very enthusiastic. She specially instructed the maid to prepare delicate desserts and chatted with a smile: “As a daughter-in-law, for you to take the initiative to come see Shuchen’s father, we elders are very comforted. But lately his father’s health hasn’t been good. He just took his medicine and lay down to rest this morning.”
“Father-in-law’s health… is it often like this?” He Qingchi was completely in the dark, especially since Wen Shuchen never mentioned a word to her.
Qiu Jin showed a worried expression, sighed, and said: “It’s been like this for years. The illness keeps tormenting him… Shuchen is busy outside and rarely comes home. Thankfully, you’re filial enough to come and visit. Why don’t you stay a few more days?”
“Alright.”
Qiu Jin was caught off guard when He Qingchi readily agreed. The smile she had put on faltered slightly.
He Qingchi’s brows curved as she smiled at the surprised woman before her: “Before, I was busy filming on set and truly had no time to return to the old house. Recently I’ve had a break and finally can stay for a few days to keep you company.”
Qiu Jin forced herself to smile and took the initiative to hold her hand: “Shuchen has found a very filial and good girl.”
“That’s only right, Madam Qiu.”
……
After lunch, He Qingchi stayed directly at the Wen family’s old residence.
Unlike last time, she didn’t feel the least bit restrained now. She calmly accepted the fact that she had married into the complicated Wen family and was now a part of it.
Seeing He Qingchi eat and live well for two or three days straight, occasionally brewing a pot of coffee for Wen Shuchen’s father in the mornings, accompanying him at chess in the afternoons, and most often listening to stories of Wen Shuchen’s childhood—without playing tricks or showing any false pretense—Qiu Jin still felt that something was off.
Privately, she went to Wen Jingchun: “What is Shuchen’s wife trying to do?”
Outside, it had rained lightly today. Wen Jingchun lay on a lounge chair, applying medicine to his aching knees, speaking listlessly: “The He family raised their daughter very well. Shuchen chose rightly in a wife.”
During these past few days of keeping him company, He Qingchi showed not a trace of impatience or pretense.
When Wen Jingchun praised her, Qiu Jin became unhappy: “That girl is scheming. Otherwise, how could she possibly hold your son in the palm of her hand? She’s not some simple, naive type.”
Usually, she avoids the old house like the plague, but suddenly she’s eager to stay over.
No matter how you look at it, it seems ill-intentioned—
Qiu Jin thought for a moment and then voiced her suspicion: “Could it be that she found out about your illness and wants to come here on Shuchen’s behalf to show filial duty—so she can get involved in splitting the inheritance with Yue’er?”
Wen Jingchun gave a faint laugh, though his voice was weak: “My will was written long ago. In the future, everything will go to Yue’er… Does she think that spending a few days listening to me tell stories of Shuchen’s childhood could restore the father-son bond between me and Shuchen? No. She’s not that foolish.”
Qiu Jin would never allow that inheritance to be touched.
Back then when the old master gave everything to Wen Shuchen, she had already harbored resentment in her heart. Now she had to guard her husband’s estate with her life. She made herself clear: “Your son and He Qingchi have already taken plenty of the Wen family’s money. They’d better not even think of fighting Yue’er for a single cent.”
Wen Jingchun waved his hand, signaling that he wanted to rest, and told her to leave.
Because of that night’s talk, the next day Qiu Jin subtly hinted at inheritance matters in front of He Qingchi.
He Qingchi hadn’t slept well the previous night. She was still groggy when she heard Qiu Jin bring up family assets. After drifting for a while, her mind suddenly grasped a thread of clarity: “Father-in-law’s mindset is the problem. He can still walk and tell stories… why would he go and write a will already?”
Qiu Jin sat gracefully at the other side of the dining table, keeping her smile in place: “The will was written three years ago. When the old master passed, all the shares and assets were given to Shuchen. His father worried this might cause conflict between Yue’er and Shuchen, so for fairness… he left everything under his own name for Yue’er to inherit.”
He Qingchi sipped her milk slowly, hearing the hidden meaning behind those words.
It was essentially saying that Wen Shuchen had already inherited a lot from the Wen family, so they shouldn’t set their sights on his father’s share.
Her lips curved into a poised smile as she said: “Wen Yue has a very good father.”
—While Wen Shuchen, also Wen Jingchun’s own son, was treated worlds apart.
Qiu Jin was about to smooth things over with some polite words, but He Qingchi suddenly added: “Fortunately, my father has no son. In the future, he can only treat Wen Shuchen as his own son. The family estate will end up his sooner or later. Wen Shuchen has no need to envy anyone.”
The smile on Qiu Jin’s face stiffened: “You really have a way with words.”
He Qingchi finished her milk, set down the glass, and stood up: “I’m going upstairs to hear father-in-law’s stories. Madam Qiu, please enjoy your meal.”
Qiu Jin was left seething, watching helplessly as she turned and walked upstairs.
……
That day’s story time was in the study. The curtains were all drawn open, and the room was bright.
He Qingchi knocked twice before entering. She saw Wen Jingchun still sitting in his usual place by the floor-to-ceiling window. His frail body prevented him from venturing beyond the residence, but he enjoyed sitting on the sofa watching the world outside.
This time, however, there was an elderly woman at his side. She wore a simple cheongsam, her silver hair neatly combed back. Apart from the jade bracelet on her wrist, she wore no other adornments.
She didn’t look like a wealthy matron. To appear in the Wen household and converse so cheerfully with Wen Jingchun, her identity must be special.
As soon as He Qingchi entered, the old lady turned her gaze toward her, eyes warm and kind.
Wen Jingchun introduced her: “This is Grandma Zeng, the one I told you about. She cared for Shuchen until he was sixteen.”
“Grandma Zeng…” He Qingchi greeted her with great respect.
After all, she had long been curious from the stories she’d heard.
Grandma Zeng looked He Qingchi up and down. Her wrinkled face broke into a satisfied smile. She didn’t act overly familiar, but her words carried praise: “This child is beautiful—just like young master was.”
He Qingchi smiled faintly. Her appearance was deceptively perfect for a wealthy family’s daughter, looking like a textbook socialite, though in private her temper was another matter entirely.
Perhaps tired from talking with Grandma Zeng, Wen Jingchun told He Qingchi: “Why don’t you let Grandma Zeng tell you today’s story? She remembers everything—even when Shuchen wet the bed or lost his baby teeth…”
He Qingchi went over, draped a blanket over Wen Jingchun, lit the sandalwood incense, and softly agreed.
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