Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 69 - Apologize
Chapter 69: Apologize
After leaving the study.
He Qingchi followed Grandma Zeng to an attic where many old items were stored. The space wasn’t very large, the walls and floor were dark wood, and only a skylight lit up the corners.
“The young master’s childhood belongings, I locked them away up here. Look—this little desk and stool, and even the trophies he won from his first kindergarten competitions, all carefully locked in the cabinet.”
Grandma Zeng smiled kindly and handed He Qingchi a sheet of drawing paper.
The doodle on the paper was very abstract—just a few lines outlining the blurry figure of a woman, and underneath in crooked handwriting: My Mom.
“This was drawn by the young master for the late madam. He had just entered kindergarten then, and the teacher’s homework was to draw a person.”
Hearing this, He Qingchi lifted her head and asked: “Wen Shuchen was very close to his mother?”
Grandma Zeng handed her a small toy ball while chatting leisurely: “After giving birth to the young master, the madam’s health never recovered, and she was bedridden. In the old house, only the young master would sit with her, chatting to relieve her boredom. He often brought Young Master Yue along, too.”
He Qingchi found a spot near the light to sit down, not minding if the dust dirtied her skirt. Her face was intent and serious as she listened to the old woman recount stories of Wen Shuchen’s childhood.
From the age of one, she listened quietly, almost able to imagine the small child gradually growing into a handsome youth, and then into a refined gentleman.
“Miss He, where are you from?”
“From Yancheng,” He Qingchi replied.
“Yancheng is a fine place. The year the madam passed away, the old house sent him to live in Yancheng for a year.”
“Wen Shuchen also lived in Yancheng?”
Grandma Zeng’s voice carried a soft smile, calm and unhurried: “Yes, he did. He and Young Master Yue were very close then, so both brothers were sent to Yancheng together.”
He Qingchi had never heard Wen Shuchen mention this. But thinking about it, it made sense—there was another Wen family residence in Yancheng, and the families maintained contact. Sending the child who had just lost his mother to live there for a year or two was reasonable.
As she thought, Grandma Zeng continued: “But after coming back that year, the young master and Young Master Yue were no longer as close.”
He Qingchi’s slender fingers gently stroked the corner of the drawing, her lashes lifting as she noted the sigh on Grandma Zeng’s face: “That year, did something happen?”
“…Well, it all started with that kidnapping case.”
Downstairs.
Qiu Jin sat elegantly in the living room, slowly sipping bird’s nest tonic. After a long while, she set it down and asked the butler in a low voice: “You mean Jingchun brought back the old woman who used to care for Wen Shuchen?”
The butler bent slightly, lowering his voice as well: “Two days ago he sent someone to bring Grandma Zeng back from the countryside.”
“Why on earth would he bring that old woman back?” Qiu Jin’s refined face showed a trace of doubt. Since Wen Shuchen was sixteen, he hadn’t needed the old house staff to manage his daily life. For so many years, there had been no sign of him maintaining ties with them.
The butler said, “The master must have his reasons.”
After a moment of thought, Qiu Jin’s tone shifted, as if she had figured something out: “Prepare the car. She won’t be staying at the old house for long.”
By evening.
As Qiu Jin had predicted, after coming down from the attic and eating dinner, He Qingchi brought up the idea of leaving.
Her reason was convincing enough—Wen Shuchen would be returning from his business trip soon.
Qiu Jin pretended to urge her to stay, but only as a formality.
“Once you leave, no one will be here to listen to Shuchen’s father’s stories anymore.”
He Qingchi smiled faintly, casually stirring her soup with a silver spoon, lips curling: “I’ve heard most of the stories already. Only the ones about Wen Yue are missing. I think Uncle must be tired too.”
Qiu Jin noticed her calm tone, and whether it was a test or a joke, she followed with:
“When Yue’er was young, he was always tagging along after Shuchen. Listening to Shuchen’s stories, you can’t help but see Yue’er’s shadow too.”
He Qingchi remained quiet.
Qiu Jin paused, as if recalling something amusing: “The brothers lived together in the old house every day, and everyone could tell them apart. But the year they were sent away, outsiders often confused the two. My Yue’er didn’t have many friends, and even the one little girl he finally befriended mistook him for someone else.”
He Qingchi lowered her gaze, slowly lifting the spoon of soup to her lips.
Qiu Jin chuckled lightly, showing no sign of stopping, and then switched to a kindly, almost motherly tone: “These days while you’ve been at the old house, Auntie has really grown fond of you… Qingchi, let me give you a bit of private advice. When you’re with Shuchen, it’s best not to anger him, do you understand?”
He Qingchi swallowed, then lifted her eyes to meet hers.
“You may not know yet…” Qiu Jin deliberately paused for effect, before adding: “Shuchen has violent tendencies. When he and Yue’er have brotherly quarrels, it’s one thing to hit Yue’er. But you—you’re such a delicate girl, how could you endure that?”
“Mrs. Qiu, do you have any proof of what you’re saying?”
He Qingchi suddenly spoke, her gaze steady.
Qiu Jin’s kindly expression stiffened for a few seconds before she said: “It was a slip of the tongue.”
Dinner ended on a sour note. He Qingchi didn’t stay long before leaving the old house.
She refused Qiu Jin’s offer of a driver, instead calling for a bodyguard from the villa to pick her up. Once in the back seat, she leaned her head against the chair, eyes half-closed for a long time.
Halfway through the ride, she suddenly asked: “When will Wen Shuchen return?”
The bodyguard couldn’t give a precise time: “Within the next few days…”
He Qingchi asked again: “When you’re usually around him, do you spar with him?”
“Madam, spar… what?”
The bodyguard didn’t catch her meaning at first.
He Qingchi slowly opened her eyes, looking toward the man in the passenger seat, and repeated: “Fight practice. Do you spar with him?”
“This… President Wen used to have professional sparring partners. He doesn’t need us for that.”
The bodyguard, after taking the money, still didn’t dare lay a hand on his boss.
He Qingchi pressed her lips together and continued asking: “Did someone specifically hit him, or did he spar with them?”
The bodyguard didn’t really understand what madam wanted to know. He carefully replied: “That depends on the sparring partner’s skill.”
Everyone has their own way of releasing stress. For women, it’s often binge eating, crazy shopping, or sleeping till they can’t tell day from night. For men burdened with high-pressure careers, it might be women’s bodies, or frequenting high-end entertainment venues.
For years, Wen Shuchen never had women around him, yet he suffered from psychological issues…
So in the past, did he relieve stress through violence, or by relying on Dr. Meng’s hypnosis?
He Qingchi still couldn’t figure it out for now and fell silent.
Half an hour later, the car slowly pulled into the wealthy district’s villas.
Even before getting out, from a distance through the car window, He Qingchi spotted the figure of a woman standing on the green lawn. As the car drew closer, she ordered the bodyguard to roll down the window and raised her voice into the fresh air: “Qu Bixin, what are you sneakily doing standing at my front door?”
Qu Bixin had disappeared for nearly a month. Now, upon her reappearance, she looked completely revitalized. Despite the early winter weather, she wore a red knitted one-piece dress. Her style was more mature, more womanly. Her bare, fair, slender legs stretched from beneath the hem, heels clicking as she walked over.
He Qingchi, still sitting inside the car, had her pulled out and immediately heard her complain: “Your bodyguard even said you don’t live here anymore. Ha! I caught you red-handed. What’s wrong? Just because I’ve had one failed marriage, I’m not worthy of hanging out with you anymore?”
“I wasn’t living here the past while. I just got back today.”
Of all days, of course she’d run into her today. Just her luck.
He Qingchi ushered her into the villa first, then said: “You couldn’t have called me instead?”
“I wanted to surprise you—”
Once inside the living room, Qu Bixin kicked off her high heels and plopped onto the sofa, only to suddenly stand again. Towering above, she dangled a house key from her fingertips, flaunting it as if showing off.
“I moved to a new place. Just three villas down behind your husband’s. Rounding up, I’m basically neighbors with the most prominent man in town.”
He Qingchi glanced at the key: “Who gave you the villa?”
“My dad, of course.”
Qu Bixin crossed her slender legs once more, not caring for decorum, leaning back with a smile that revealed two dimples: “He was afraid I’d be reminded of my brother, sister-in-law, or old neighbors and get all heartbroken at home, so he gave me his future retirement house. Of course… I guess the fact that I cried to him every night for a month helped.”
A villa in this district cost over a hundred million. She’d basically cried her way into one.
Still, He Qingchi thought the Qu family had probably used Qu Bixin’s divorce settlement to resolve their bankruptcy crisis, so compensating her with a villa worth over a hundred million wasn’t such a stretch.
Pouring herself some water, she asked: “Your dad still has the money to give you a villa? The company’s issues are solved?”
“Yeah, solved. My dad gave me an IOU, said he’ll pay back the full ten billion within three years.”
So in the end, Qu Bixin came out on top—free villa secured.
She added with a grin: “After all, it’s not easy for the old man to sleep at night, holding onto his daughter’s divorce settlement.”
“As long as you’re happy—”
Qu Bixin suddenly blinked playfully, voice mysterious: “Do you notice any changes in me?”
He Qingchi narrowed her eyes, examining carefully. Aside from her mature style, heavy makeup, and the faint, decadent rose perfume that clung to her, she seemed much the same: a slim, pointed face, still firm and pale skin, and lipstick that suited her.
But Qu Bixin kept blinking expectantly.
That was too obvious of a hint.
He Qingchi suddenly realized, raising her voice: “Your eye makeup…”
Qu Bixin used to have round, bright almond eyes that lent her a sweet, girl-next-door charm, especially when paired with her dimples.
But today, her eye makeup elongated them into a more alluring, peach-blossom shape, sharpening her refined features.
“You didn’t get plastic surgery, did you?”
But no—it hadn’t even been a month, results couldn’t look that natural.
Qu Bixin burst out laughing, collapsing onto the sofa, barely able to catch her breath: “I hired a top makeup artist to design this eye look. Tomorrow I’m flying abroad for a makeover—this is the model.”
In other words, not surgery yet, just makeup to get a taste.
He Qingchi thought: after her divorce, Qu Bixin really had let herself go free.
That was good, at least. Better than wasting away, obsessing over Shen Fu.
But the thought was quickly shattered.
Just then, Qin Chuan’s call came through. He Qingchi had been meaning to ask him something anyway, so she answered, put it on speaker, and set the phone on the coffee table. “Do you remember when my mother passed away?” she asked first.
But Qin Chuan clearly wasn’t focused on that. Ignoring her question, he exclaimed excitedly: “Holy shit, the little green tea strikes again!”
The room went silent for a second. He Qingchi cast a glance at the woman sprawled on the sofa gaming, then cleared her throat to warn him: “Think carefully before you speak.”
Unfortunately, Qin Chuan kept going on and on, hinting at things between the lines: “Let me tell you, that little green tea spread the word in the circle the day before yesterday—she said she’s going to use the ten billion she got from the divorce to completely ruin that little mute. Only when she’s squandered all the ten billion Shen Fu gave her will she let the girl off.”
He Qingchi felt that this was mostly posturing, but since the person in question was sitting right beside her, it wasn’t easy to ridicule it openly. She just cleared her throat: “It’s not your ten billion being spent—what are you so excited about?”
“I made money off a bet,” Qin Chuan said, full of energy. “I bet that little green tea wouldn’t give up so easily, that she was holding back a big move. Sure enough, as soon as the Qu family’s crisis was resolved, the very next day she dug up and exposed Shen Tingji’s family line going back eighteen generations. You know, this little mute looks young and pure, always silent when performing on stage, giving off that lofty fairy vibe. All those wealthy heirs from the upper class adored her…”
Without pausing for breath, Qin Chuan carried on: “And now little green tea has exposed her for wrecking someone’s marriage, being a mistress—it’s even more ruthless! She even took out ads in the newspapers. Today the biggest headlines in every major paper are all about the little mute…”
He Qingchi glanced at the woman sitting beside her. Qu Bixin lifted her face, giving her a sweet yet venomous smile: “I paid a huge sum to buy out the newspaper pages for a whole month. Hee-hee.”
“……”
On the other end, Qin Chuan heard the familiar doll-like voice and swore repeatedly:
“Little Green Tea’s with you??”
He Qingchi regretfully confirmed: “Mm. Just like you think. She heard everything.”
The next second—
Qin Chuan immediately hung up.
He Qingchi: “……”
Qu Bixin gave a chilly little laugh, dragging out her doll-like voice: “Qin Chuan’s well-informed, huh? Why hang up? Afraid I’ll ask for a cut?”
He Qingchi dialed again, but Qin Chuan refused to pick up no matter what.
She had no choice but to set the phone down. Turning back, she saw Qu Bixin looking completely unconcerned, so she arched a brow and asked: “You’re destroying Shen Tingji’s career like this—aren’t you afraid Shen Fu will hate you for it?”
“Doesn’t matter anymore.”
Qu Bixin lifted her hand, admiring her newly manicured nails, voice indifferent: “No matter how I pretend, he’ll never like me.”
He Qingchi sipped her water thoughtfully—too quickly, and ended up coughing.
“Oh, right—”
If Qin Chuan wouldn’t answer, she could ask Qu Bixin.
After all, the two had known each other since childhood.
“Do you remember when my mother passed away?”
She’d asked Qin Chuan the same thing a few minutes ago. Qu Bixin, not having amnesia, shot her a lazy look: “It wasn’t my mom who died. Why would I remember so clearly?”
“Then do you remember if, besides Qin Chuan, I made any new friends—?”
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