Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 71 - Trick (someone) Into Coming Over
Chapter 71: Trick (someone) Into Coming Over
Yancheng — in the bustling city center, inside a high-end private club. On the fifth floor, in one of the private rooms, a few rich young men were gathered around a table playing cards, passing the evening away, each with a female companion at their side.
Meanwhile, behind a finely crafted antique screen in the corner sofa—
A man sat quietly, his figure hidden in the shadows. His head was slightly lowered, the expression on his face obscured by darkness. From a distance, one could see his long, pale fingers holding a cigarette that glowed faintly, smoke curling upward, though he had no intention of smoking it.
“Who got on your nerves tonight?” Shao Qixiu finished the last round of cards, walked over suavely in his tailored suit, and sat down next to Wen Shuchen despite sensing his gloomy mood. He lit a cigarette as well.
“No one.” Wen Shuchen’s thin lips released the two words, without even the courtesy of pretense.
Shao Qixiu let out a mocking laugh. “Rare to see you come to Yancheng. Looks like your father-in-law kicked you out again.”
His tone was full of certainty—clearly he knew that Wen Shuchen was not at all welcomed by President He, the head of the He family.
A couple of seconds later—
Seeing Wen Shuchen remain silent, Shao Qixiu brought up the old subject again. “I told you from the start, the He family is hard to deal with. You could marry ten socialites in Yancheng, and none of them would be as much trouble as He Qingchi. Didn’t listen to me—now you’re sitting here looking like a bitter abandoned husband. If you ask me, when it comes to choosing a wife, pick the virtuous, family-type woman who’ll stay at home, manage the household, and raise children. No need to waste so much effort.”
Wen Shuchen lifted his eyelids slightly, his gaze falling faintly on the beautiful woman who had taken Shao Qixiu’s place at the card table. His voice was calm, quiet enough not to be overheard: “Your female companion tonight doesn’t exactly match your definition of a suitable wife.”
Shao Qixiu countered with a half-smile: “Did I ever say she’s the one I plan to marry?”
Wen Shuchen had long since grown disdainful of Shao Qixiu’s playboy nature. He ground out his cigarette butt heavily and tossed it away, unwilling to associate too closely with a man like him, lest it tarnish his own upright image.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and opened a familiar WeChat profile picture.
The latest message was still from that morning—He Qingchi telling him she was going back to her parents’ house for a visit.
At that time, Wen Shuchen had already been on his way to board an international flight, but upon seeing that message, he immediately changed his itinerary to return to Yancheng instead. After nearly half a month apart, he willingly surrendered to the truest emotions in his heart.
He wanted to see her, to see her alive and real, standing before him, speaking to him—
His long fingers slid across the screen, scrolling up and down, reading their chat history again and again.
Online, He Qingchi rarely said much. Most of the time, she preferred using emojis to convey her feelings or what she wanted to say. In just a few pages, Wen Shuchen counted over a dozen instances where she had simply replied with “Mm.”
Maybe it was Shao Qixiu’s words tonight clouding his mind, but even those simple responses now struck him as carrying a layer of perfunctory indifference.
If his secretary hadn’t blackened Wen Yue’s name in front of He Qingchi, and exposed the schemes at the old family house—would her impression of Wen Yue have changed?
Was it only because of his presence that she grew to hate Wen Yue?
Wen Shuchen wasn’t sure, if stripped of all the factors influenced by him, what He Qingchi’s true feelings toward Wen Yue would be.
The thought made his mind falter for a moment. Suddenly, the image flashed back: He Qingchi sitting upright in the dining room, the soft glow of the lights casting her profile in exquisite detail, her expression serious as she clearly and deliberately said she liked Wen Yue.
Whether or not it was an act—
In those short seconds of hearing it, Wen Shuchen had chosen to walk away in silence.
Escape was never the way of a man like him, one who had seen countless battles and weathered all manner of storms. Yet in that moment, Wen Shuchen gave himself a shred of dignity. In front of He Qingchi, he found it harder and harder to maintain his gentlemanly composure. From leaving the He family house until sitting here in this private room—
He had been suppressing his emotions the whole time.
And nitpicking—over every single word she had said.
Wen Shuchen rubbed his brow with his fingers, a faint, unclear laugh slipping from his lips.
“Forget it.”
As long as she hadn’t said “I regret marrying him” directly to his face—
Then she could say whatever she wanted.
By the time the card game broke up, it was already past eleven.
At the entrance of the club, Shao Qixiu wrapped an arm around the slim waist of the beauty beside him, courteously seeing her into the car. His hand rested on the doorframe, but instead of getting in himself, he turned to look at Wen Shuchen standing on the roadside in his suit.
“Want to crash at my villa tonight?”
Wen Shuchen had his suit jacket draped over his arm. He showed no intention of accepting the invitation, standing tall and motionless under the night sky, his tone flat: “Convenient for you?”
Shao Qixiu’s smile deepened. “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not like I’m asking you to watch me sleep with a woman.”
Wen Shuchen had no desire to intrude at his villa. When the hotel car he had ordered slowly pulled up, he tossed back one line before getting in: “I’m heading back to Jiangcheng tomorrow. No need.”
He had diverted to Yancheng alone, while his elite team and secretary had stuck to the original schedule and returned to Jiangcheng first. Now, finding a hotel for the night was something he had to handle personally.
That night, he chose a luxury suite at a hotel near the airport. After completing check-in at the front desk, he was personally escorted to his room by the female manager.
Once inside, the first thing Wen Shuchen did was pull open the curtains by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The scattered city lights twinkled silently in the darkness.
Standing tall in his immaculate suit before the glass, one hand in his pocket, he paused for a couple of seconds before turning back to call out to the manager: “Does your hotel offer… any special services?”
The female manager, dressed in a professional skirt suit, nearly lost her footing in her high heels. She stared in shock at the refined, strikingly handsome man before her, almost thinking she had misheard.
“Mr. Wen, are you… asking for special services?”
Wen Shuchen gave a low hum, his gaze deep and steady: “Preferably male.”
“……” The female manager.
Special services… and he’s asking for a man???
Are good-looking men these days all not interested in women anymore?
Yet Wen Shuchen didn’t seem to find anything wrong with it. Leisurely, he walked over to the sofa and sat down, his expression calm and patient.
The manager snapped back to her senses, asking awkwardly: “It can’t be a woman?”
“That would make my wife jealous,” Wen Shuchen answered with a straight face.
The manager had never encountered a guest like this before. If he calls a woman, his wife will get jealous, but if it’s a man, she won’t?
Of course, with customers first, she dared not interfere too much. She said, “I’m sorry, sir, our hotel doesn’t provide that kind of service. If you have such a need tonight, you can contact the club’s male escorts—just pay a little, and someone will come out.”
Wen Shuchen frowned, pausing for a moment before slowly saying: “I just want to find a young man to help me act out a scene.”
The manager nodded repeatedly with a smile: “Of course, sir, I understand completely.”
Whether she truly understood or not was another matter.
Either way, knowing that he wanted a young man, she dutifully upheld her professional service standards and arranged for a male escort.
Forty minutes later—
Wen Shuchen paid 6,000 RMB to book a so-called “anime-style pretty boy” from the club for the whole night.
When the manager brought him in, Wen Shuchen looked expressionlessly at the young man in smoky eye makeup. The escort, having taken the money, still had no idea what the client wanted.
Perhaps because of the manager’s earlier hint, his gaze toward Wen Shuchen carried a faint difference.
After all, the clients he usually served were either older wealthy women or nouveau riche middle-aged men.
Rarely did he meet a male client whose every facial feature—eyes, nose, lips—was perfectly refined. Even without a smile, even the slight arch of his brow was strikingly attractive.
“Mr. Wen, shall we begin now?”
The escort’s voice was deliberately soft. It snapped Wen Shuchen out of his thoughts, and he shifted his gaze back to him.
He didn’t speak right away, and the escort asked, “Should I take off my pants first, or my shirt?”
Wen Shuchen’s tone brooked no refusal: “Take out your phone.”
The escort, puzzled, obediently complied. Once he had, Wen Shuchen calmly recited a phone number for him to save, then slowly instructed. “Call this number and tell her I owe you money.”
The escort blinked. “Mr. Wen, do I need to say anything else?”
Wen Shuchen’s eyes darkened slightly as he thought, then began to fabricate: “If she asks what money I owe, tell her I lost my luggage, have no money at all, and then give her the hotel’s address.”
The escort, street-smart from his years in the business, was well acquainted with all kinds of messy entanglements between men and women—otherwise he wouldn’t be a top escort at the club.
He roughly guessed that this wealthy man’s interest wasn’t in him, so he cooperated readily: “Don’t worry, sir. Even if it costs me my tongue, I’ll get her to come here for you.”
Wen Shuchen didn’t thank him, simply sat quietly on the sofa, waiting.
The escort dialed the number and soon reached a woman whose voice was as beautiful as it sounded. Using his silver tongue, he embellished Wen Shuchen’s story, painting the picture of a pitiful man stranded without money after losing his luggage.
The living room fell silent.
Then the escort suddenly tightened his grip on the phone, turned toward Wen Shuchen still sitting motionless on the sofa, and asked cautiously: “That lady… she wants to speak with you.”
Wen Shuchen’s gaze snapped toward him, steady and composed.
The escort waited, then asked again: “Do you want to take it?”
Wen Shuchen looked at the phone in his hand, then, after suppressing the emotions in his voice, said: “Give it to me.”
In the end, he still chose to answer—
He gave in!
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