Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 78 - He Felt That No One but Himself Was Worthy of Her
Chapter 78: He Felt That No One but Himself Was Worthy of Her
The curtains blocking the light were pulled open, brightening the cold, pale hospital room. Qu Bixin slipped on her shoes and hurried to the bedside, pressing her palm against He Qingchi’s forehead. Feeling the temperature had returned to normal, she muttered in her heart, “You really know how to be considerate to your husband.”
She turned back, walked to the door, and pulled on the handle to push it open.
At the same moment, the shadow of a tall figure leaned in, and their eyes almost met at close range.
Qu Bixin froze. For a second, she thought she had opened the door to the wrong world.
Her reaction was sluggish, her throat straining as if suppressing something, and her eyelids burned faintly with the threat of tears—perhaps just aftereffects of her surgery. Absolutely not, she told herself—it was not because her emotions slipped out of control upon seeing Shen Fu suddenly standing there in the flesh.
Forcing her gaze away, she asked without looking at him, “What are you doing here?”
Shen Fu’s appearance was far too unexpected.
And yet, what he said next was so reasonable it left no room for argument: “You didn’t reply to my messages. I came to talk to you about that newspaper matter. I’ve already booked my flight back for noon today. Qu Bixin, there are just over four hours left. Let’s talk properly.”
Qu Bixin’s eyes snapped wide, her teeth biting hard into her lower lip. “How very considerate of you.”
Coming all the way overseas just to chase her down over the scandal with Shen Tingji being exposed in the papers.
He kept calling her Qu Bixin—whether before or after the divorce, he had never once called her with any intimacy.
Shen Fu led her out of the room, his tone suddenly turning cold: “Don’t disturb President Wen. And what happened to your eye?”
Her throat caught with emotion, words stuck, as he tugged her along toward the stairwell.
The hospital room door closed softly again, restoring quiet.
Only when even the nurse had left did Wen Shuchen step forward into the room. His footsteps were light, careful not to wake He Qingchi. He sat silently at the bedside, eyes lowered, gazing at the half-visible face of the woman asleep beneath the quilt.
Two fingers brushed across her forehead, lingering—her temperature was still a little high.
That morning, He Qingchi slept deeply, likely exhausted after the fever had drained her the night before. In her haze, dosed with medicine and water, she couldn’t tell if she was still dreaming. By the time her awareness cleared and she slowly opened her eyes, the midday sunlight outside was bright and sharp. In her line of sight—familiar fabric of a man’s dress shirt.
Her gaze trailed upward: a perfect jawline, then handsome features.
Only then did she realize she was being held in someone’s arms. Sunlight spilled warmly across the white quilt, and Wen Shuchen was lying at her side, keeping her company in sleep.
The stillness of the scene made He Qingchi feel as though she’d stepped into another lifetime.
It had been barely ten days since they’d last seen each other.
Now awake, her body nearly recovered, her spirit was alert. Her dark eyes watched him quietly. She lifted a finger, wanting to trace the contours of his face—but stopped for fear of waking him.
Suddenly, the buzz of a vibrating phone shattered the calm.
He Qingchi saw his brow twitch—he was about to wake.
In a rush of impulse she didn’t quite understand, she squeezed her eyes shut again, feigning sleep.
The man opened his eyes to the sound, his gaze settling on the woman in his arms for a moment before he reached for the vibrating phone. A call.
He glanced at the screen, didn’t answer, and hung up.
The caller didn’t try again.
Replacing the phone, Wen Shuchen shifted up slightly, his head tilted as he raised a hand to shield her from the sunlight falling across her face.
Her breathing was shallow and steady, chest rising in tiny movements.
Even with eyes shut, He Qingchi could feel him leaning closer. A wave of regret struck—she should’ve just greeted him openly instead of pretending to sleep.
Then she felt the cool glide of his fingertip across her delicate chin.
Her long lashes trembled faintly—a tiny movement Wen Shuchen did not miss.
He had already noticed her breathing was wrong, but said nothing. He seemed to enjoy watching her like this, silently, his gaze lingering on her pale yet delicate face, tracing down along her brows and features until it rested on her lips, pressed faintly together from nervousness.
She was still lost in thoughts of how they had parted last time—
And then, suddenly, the touch on her lips froze her completely.
His kiss was gentle, slow, lips brushing her lip corner, her cheek, her chin—light and careful, as though she might break, carrying a restrained yearning.
Her lashes flickered against his palm. She couldn’t keep up the act anymore. When he moved his hand away from her eyes, the sunlight revealed his handsome face, and within those deep, unreadable eyes—her reflection
They stared for a full minute before Wen Shuchen leaned down again.
His single-mindedness, the focused devotion in his kiss, made He Qingchi’s heart tremble. It felt like they were long-separated lovers finally reunited. His strong fingers pressed against the back of her neck, a hold that allowed no escape, though his lips moved with water-like gentleness.
Gradually, her breathing grew unsteady. She realized—every time he kissed her, he could go on for ten, twenty minutes, even half an hour.
Over and over, and somehow it never felt dull.
“Enough—”
Drawing in fresh air, He Qingchi pushed his face away slightly.
He had nearly covered her completely, long hand clasping hers tightly, grip a little forceful. His dark eyes fixed on her flushed cheeks. Then, lowering his head, his forehead pressed against hers as he spoke in a hoarse voice: “Come home with me. Please?”
The two of them had been in a cooling-off period for nearly ten days, and neither of them felt good about it.
When He Qingchi saw him, she immediately thought of those long WeChat messages. The stories were still vivid in her mind, and she couldn’t help but accuse him: “You really are good at lying to me—treating me like a fool and deceiving me from beginning to end.”
Of course, there was still some anger, but after this period of cooling down, she had become more mature.
She had chosen this man herself—could she just throw him in the trash?
Wen Shuchen cupped her face in his hand and said softly, “I never intended to hide it from you forever. As for the past, you were bound to know it sooner or later…”
He just hadn’t expected that day to come so quickly—or that He Qingchi would uncover the truth herself.
“From learning about your family to slowly realizing I was also a main character in that story—do you know what that feels like?” she asked quietly, not expecting him to answer correctly.
After a pause of two seconds, she answered herself: “Like a lamb walking into a tiger’s den, falling right into your trap.”
What had started as a simple relationship was steered by him into marriage. Foolishly, she ended up with a huge inheritance and shares from his grandfather. Even if she wanted to back out later, there was no way.
He Qingchi spoke as if he had always been calculating, determined to bind her to him for life.
Wen Shuchen couldn’t refute it; he did indeed have his own agenda.
Otherwise, he could have dated her for a few years first—until she had no better options and could only agree to marry him.
But in his heart, he felt that no one but himself was worthy of her.
Of course, he couldn’t say this outright now, or he would provoke her again. Instead, Wen Shuchen lowered himself and gently said: “When I went to your house to propose, I promised your father in the study that I would protect you well for the rest of my life.”
“And my dad believed you just because of a few words?” He Qingchi pressed.
At that, Wen Shuchen fell silent, unwilling to continue.
After a moment, he said smoothly, “Last time, I considered your feelings and let you stay with the He family for a while. My plan was to come pick you up myself after half a month.”
Half a month later…
He Qingchi thought bitterly—he really knew how to calculate things. By then, of course, most of her anger would have dissipated.
She wouldn’t still be holding grudges or arguing with him.
Wen Shuchen continued: “Actually, you don’t need to agonize over whether to stay with me. I won’t let go so easily.”
The implication—agonizing over it is useless.
He Qingchi felt like his words were going to make her relapse. She shoved him off the bed: “I don’t want to hear you talk. Go buy me some porridge.”
She had been sick for a full day and night, eating nothing but medicine and water.
Since she had asked, Wen Shuchen, of course, obeyed.
He didn’t bring his secretary with him, so he handled everything personally.
From the bed, she watched him busily taking care of things. Strangely, her restless heart calmed down, and even her body felt lighter. Her eyes drifted to her phone, and suddenly she remembered the mix-up with Wen Yue.
If Wen Shuchen had rushed to Japan the very next day, then he must have known about it already.
She thought of how he had once broken Wen Yue’s hand over a single phone call, and unease crept in. Would he break Wen Yue’s leg this time?
Fifteen minutes later, Wen Shuchen personally returned with rice porridge.
By then, He Qingchi had washed up and was wrapped in a thin blanket on the sofa, her long black hair loose around her shoulders. She tilted her head back at the attentive man in front of her and suddenly said, “It was Wen Yue who brought me to the hospital yesterday.”
In front of her, Wen Shuchen maintained his gentlemanly, gentle facade—rarely showing violence.
He blew on the porridge to cool it and held a spoon to her lips. “Eat first.”
Seeing he didn’t want to talk about Wen Yue, He Qingchi could only drop it.
In this matter, Wen Shuchen was childishly possessive—so unlike his usual self. He was petty enough that even hearing her say “Wen Yue” would stir him up in private, which only showed how much he cared.
When she finished the porridge, he also gave her fever medicine.
“Can I be discharged today?” she asked.
He Qingchi didn’t like staying in the cold, sterile hospital room, repelled by the smell of disinfectant.
Wen Shuchen said, “Once your fever is completely gone, you can leave. I’ll stay with you.”
But right after he said this, his phone started ringing nonstop.
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