Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 81 - Was it the Marriage Certificate that Gave Him the Courage?

November 28, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~

Chapter 81: Was it the Marriage Certificate that Gave Him the Courage?

 

Jiangcheng, in the master bedroom on the second floor of a villa.

 

Wen Shuchen stood by the bed answering a call, his snow-white shirt completely unbuttoned, revealing his elegant collarbones. He Qingchi, lazily getting up, knelt on the soft quilt, straightening her back as she lifted her slender hands to fasten his buttons one by one from top to bottom.

 

When he hung up, she picked up the tie from the sheets to match with his shirt and asked, “Shen Fu wants you to send someone to Japan to pick him up?”

 

Wen Shuchen set the phone on the nightstand, straightened his tall figure, and let her tie his tie. His throat moved as he answered in a low voice, “His ID and passport were torn up by that woman, Qu Bixin.”

 

Even a man as mild-tempered as Wen Shuchen couldn’t help but frown at the news.

 

“Then why only two days later?” He Qingchi wasn’t surprised—that was exactly the sort of thing Qu Bixin would do.

 

She had half-tied the knot but undid it again, her technique clumsy, and started over.

 

Before Wen Shuchen could speak, she guessed, “Oh, Qu Bixin must’ve said Shen Fu would stay with her in Japan for a week.”

 

“Don’t learn from her,” Wen Shuchen said, watching her fuss endlessly with the tie. Finally, he tied it himself, repeating the warning in a low tone.

 

He Qingchi only smiled faintly, not replying.

 

Who knew? In this regard, she might even have to consult Qu Bixin someday.

 

After tying the tie, Wen Shuchen put on his suit jacket. It had grown colder outside recently, but the house was warm. He Qingchi, dressed only in a slip, stepped out of bed and brought him a black overcoat from the dressing room.

 

“By the way… did you take my household register booklet?”

 

She’d forgotten it at a hotel last time, and when she called later, the staff said it wasn’t there. 

 

He Qingchi figured Wen Shuchen must’ve taken it.

 

At the mention of the register, Wen Shuchen said, “Are you free this afternoon? Let’s go to the Civil Affairs Bureau.”

 

Having terminated her contract with her company, He Qingchi wasn’t working anymore, so of course she had time. Sitting back down on the bed, she tilted her head up and said, “I’m free. I just worry you’ll be too busy.”

 

With his father ill and rival forces stirring, Wen Shuchen was busier than ever, constantly handling people and company matters, his phone ringing non-stop with calls from his secretary.

 

He picked up the black coat, draped it over his arm, and leaned down to brush his thin lips against her cheek. “Nothing is more important than getting our certificate. It’s settled—this afternoon I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

 

He Qingchi never went back on decisions once made. She nodded. “Okay.”

 

Seeing her agree, Wen Shuchen’s eyes softened with a faint smile. After murmuring a few tender words, he left the master bedroom.

 

Once alone, He Qingchi flopped onto the messy bed, pulled a pillow over her face, and lay still.

 

By the afternoon, she sat in the dressing room choosing what to wear for the marriage certificate photo. She spent ages picking colors and styles before settling on a white embroidered cheongsam, planning to layer it with a wool coat so she wouldn’t be cold outside.

 

Satisfied at last, she hung up the cheongsam and took a photo to send him.

 

[Should I wear this to the Civil Affairs Bureau?]

 

Half an hour later, Wen Shuchen replied: [It looks beautiful. Find the shirt you sewed for me in the wardrobe—I’ll wear it for the photo.]

 

Reading the message, He Qingchi set down her phone and went to fetch the shirt.

 

She had put a lot of effort into sewing it, though Wen Shuchen rarely wore it. It usually hung neatly in the closet, and she’d only seen him wear it once—when he hinted about registering their marriage and she refused.

 

She hung both their outfits together, smiling as her eyes curved in delight.

 

Her mood was too good to put into words. She turned back to the master bedroom to start on her makeup.

 

She spent nearly three hours, carefully grooming every strand of hair. Her makeup was light and natural, not overdone.

 

Dressed in the white embroidered cheongsam, she sat at the vanity playing with her phone.

 

At 4:50 p.m., she received a message from Qu Bixin asking for help.

 

[I forgot to take medicine last night—]

 

Shortly after came two photos of pill boxes, followed by: [Do you know which one I should take?]

 

He Qingchi glanced at them and typed: [The 72-hour one.]

 

It was Qu Bixin’s first time in such a situation, and lacking experience, she nervously opened both boxes and took pills from each.

 

He Qingchi typed slowly: [Shen Fu asked Wen Shuchen to send someone to Japan in two days. Did anything happen between you two?]

 

Qu Bixin was quiet for a long time before sending back a long voice message: [He’s a beast. I must’ve been blind to ever mistake him for a lamb. Who the hell would’ve thought he was just wearing sheepskin—deep down he’s more vicious than me.]

 

He Qingchi didn’t know what Shen Fu had done to earn such a furious scolding.

 

She replied with a voice message of her own: [You drugged him, and he didn’t even call the police. That’s already merciful.]

 

[He dares to call the police on me?]

 

Qu Bixin’s doll-like voice was sharp, biting off each word in fury: [If he dares report me for drugging him, I’ll accuse him of forcing me in the bathtub this morning. We can both go down together.]

 

He Qingchi: “…”

 

That was… a lot of information.

 

Qu Bixin, still fuming, puffed her cheeks and added: [Besides, his technique was awful. I have every reason to suspect that the little mute doesn’t even want to sleep with him…]

 

Then she suddenly went silent. Something must have happened.

 

He Qingchi set her phone aside, reapplied her lipstick, and checked her bag for documents and the household register. At 4 p.m., she went downstairs.

 

Two bodyguards in black had been waiting at the door. They opened the car’s back door for her.

 

Carrying her bag and the shirt she’d prepared for him, she sat inside and placed them by her side.

 

The driver started the car toward the Civil Affairs Bureau. Watching her reflection in the window, He Qingchi blinked hard, feeling an indescribable sense of unreality.

 

In just a few months, she had grown used to married life.

 

Once, she had been a single girl who never thought about dating. Now she had slipped naturally into the role of a wife.

 

Her fingertips traced the clean glass, slowly writing out “Wen Shuchen,” then quickly wiped it away before anyone could see—

 

As though she wanted to hide every part of him deep inside herself, not sharing him with anyone.

 

After about twenty minutes, the driver pulled up in front of the Civil Affairs Bureau. The weather outside was chilly, so he didn’t open the door for her yet. Instead, he said, “Madam, Mr. Wen will be here soon. He’s just handling something.”

 

He Qingchi thought back to his promise that morning—no matter how big the issue, nothing was more important than registering their marriage. And now he was busy again?

 

She checked her phone. It was already 4:30, only an hour before the bureau closed.

 

The driver stepped out for a smoke, the bodyguards standing nearby. Alone in the backseat, she slowly lowered the window.

 

The cold wind blew in, scattering her long black satin hair. Her face showed no smile as she beckoned one of the guards over.

 

Pressing her pale lips together, she asked, “Is Wen Shuchen still at the company?”

 

The guard replied, “Madam, the drive from the company only takes half an hour. Please wait a little longer.”

 

He Qingchi knew that Wen Shuchen had been so busy lately with nonstop phone calls, so she didn’t say anything and rolled the car window back up.

 

She kept her eyes open, quietly watching the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau. Near closing time, there weren’t many newlyweds coming to register anymore. Instead, a pair of disgruntled-looking man and woman walked out, each heading off in opposite directions, their backs radiating finality.

 

Time ticked by, and He Qingchi had already watched three couples leave. From an hour left, it had dwindled down to just twenty minutes.

 

She didn’t call to rush Wen Shuchen. In her heart, she figured if they didn’t get the certificate this time, then maybe next time, depending on her mood.

 

When only fifteen minutes remained, even the bodyguards outside were clearly getting anxious, making call after call.

 

He Qingchi’s lashes drooped low, and she said nothing.

 

She just watched the clock on her phone until there were ten minutes left—then suddenly, a guard outside called: “President Wen is here.”

 

She lifted her head, and through the car window she faintly saw a figure. The next moment, the door opened, and Wen Shuchen slid into the back seat, his whole body carrying a chill. As he closed the door, his deep voice filled the confined car: “Sorry, something came up on the way. Where’s my shirt?”

 

He knew every second mattered now. Even as he spoke, he was already loosening his tie.

 

He Qingchi noticed his movements were a little stiff. When he took off his suit jacket, his brows drew together, and then he swiftly undid all the buttons of his shirt. A striking bruise was visible across his solid chest.

 

Her eyes widened. Forget about scolding him for being late—“How did you get hurt?”

 

Wen Shuchen saw the shirt bag beside her, reached for it, and didn’t bother with explanations: “The car was going too fast. It’s nothing.”

 

“I didn’t even rush you.” He Qingchi checked him for other injuries, her tone sharp with displeasure.

 

Dressed in the snow-white embroidered shirt she had made, he looked cleaner and sharper, almost ethereal. He smiled at her: “I was the one being impatient.”

 

That bit of self-blame instantly dissolved her anger.

 

She reached up to fix his collar and teased lightly, “I almost thought you’d run away at the last step before getting the certificate.”

 

Wen Shuchen, worried she might run away instead, took her slender hand and brushed it against his lips.

 

“Alright, we’ve got five minutes left. Let’s go get the certificate.”

 

He Qingchi gathered the documents, and without the slightest tantrum or hesitation, walked openly into the bureau with him.

 

Staff guided them through the whole process—signatures, photos—and soon the little red booklets were in their hands.

 

She didn’t linger on her inner feelings but walked out of the bureau with Wen Shuchen.

 

Since they had come so late, the office was closing.

 

So, she tugged him away quickly to not delay the staff’s end of day.

 

“I’ll keep the marriage certificates safe,” Wen Shuchen said smoothly, taking the booklets from her hand and slipping them into his pocket, adding casually, “in case you lose them.”

 

He Qingchi found it amusing and didn’t argue, just gave him a sidelong glance: “We just got the certificates, and you’re already this anxious—taking them away like that… What, without them we can’t get divorced?”

 

The moment she said it, she realized—it was true.

 

If they suddenly wanted a divorce, without the certificates… they’d have to reissue them first before filing.

 

Suspicious, she said half-jokingly, “You’re not planning to go home and tear them up, are you?”

 

“Of course not.” Wen Shuchen’s eyes glinted with amusement.

 

He tucked the certificates away, draped an arm around her, and led her back to the car.

 

“Your hand’s okay?”

 

She had noticed earlier that he’d moved awkwardly when taking off his suit.

 

His expression was calm, unaffected, and his tone casual: “Might need to have the family doctor take a look later.”

 

“…”

 

He escorted her back into the car. Just as she sat down, his low voice brushed her ear: “Earlier, the company was held up by Shen Tingji for half an hour. She’s not in a stable mood. Since you’re a woman, if you can, keep an eye on her for me.”

 

He Qingchi turned to look at him, her expression saying: Are you serious?

 

Wen Shuchen patted her back lightly and went on, unhurried: “I’ll send you back to the villa first. Then I have another engagement. I’ll come home later to be with you.”

 

Married just now, and already rushing back to work—He Qingchi lowered her gaze, her eyes flicking to the two certificates in his hand.

 

Was that what had given him courage?

 

Wen Shuchen’s eyes stayed as gentle as ever. Lowering his voice deliberately, he asked, “Alright?”

 

He always did this—acting pitiful, softening his tone—until she couldn’t bear to quibble. That was how he had tricked her into marrying him in the first place.

 

The words she almost spoke stayed on her tongue. Calmly, she nodded.

 

Keeping his promise, Wen Shuchen delivered her safely back to the villa. He didn’t get out, but his hand lingered on her soft wrist as he spoke low and steady: “I’ll have Meng Qingchang come and take Shen Tingji away. If you don’t want to deal with her, just go upstairs and rest.”

 

He Qingchi turned back to give him a smile, her voice slow and unreadable: “You really do love Shen Fu, don’t you?”

 

Wen Shuchen was silent for a moment, then explained, catching her tone: “I need Shen Fu for certain things. It’s just mutual benefit. Privately, there’s no friendship.”

 

She couldn’t be bothered with all that, pulling her wrist back: “Drive carefully. Don’t get into another accident.”

 

So she did still care, in her own way.

 

Wen Shuchen had long seen through her habit of saying one thing and feeling another. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her closer, one arm around her shoulder, lowering his head. His lips brushed her pale ear in the lightest kiss.

 

He Qingchi didn’t know if he had other injuries, but she didn’t struggle hard.

 

When he let go of her ear, he moved to her lips, gently grazing the corners, before whispering hoarsely: “Wait for me tonight.”

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