Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 97 - What’s Done Cannot be Undone

December 31, 2025 Oyen 0 Comments

Happy Reading~ Bonus chapter

Chapter 97: What’s Done Cannot be Undone

 

When Wen Shuchen pulled her tightly into his arms, He Qingchi could feel the violent rise and fall of his emotions. She raised a hand and gently stroked the man’s broad back. Through the cool fabric of his shirt, her fingertips slid slowly downward, and in the end, she wrapped her arms around his waist as well. Her quiet, shallow voice broke the silence around them: “Let me talk to you for a bit…”

 

So he wouldn’t bottle everything up inside. Anyone would fall ill from that kind of suffocating depression.

 

He Qingchi rested her smooth forehead against his jaw, still holding him in the same position. Her voice was slow and soft: “Shuchen… before, you wanted me to stay at the He residence and not come back. These last few days, you wouldn’t let me spend the night at the old house either. Was it because you didn’t want me witnessing the Wen family’s infighting… and now that I’ve been dragged into it, you regret it and want me out?”

 

In the darkness, Wen Shuchen lowered his head, searching for her lips.

 

His breath warmed her cheek; she made no sound.

 

His thin lips paused at the corner of her mouth, as though waiting for her response.

 

He Qingchi closed her lashes, tilted her head slightly upward, and found him.

 

No urgent kiss—just a brief, dragonfly-light touch before parting.

 

Wen Shuchen’s long fingers brushed her lashes again and again—without purpose, simply wanting to touch them, her nose, her mouth. Repeating the motion over and over, tracing the delicate contours of her face as though he wanted to carve every detail into memory.

 

Her pale knees had been half-kneeling on the floor for too long and were growing sore. She leaned into his chest, wanting to shift positions, but the moment she moved, his arm pressed down on her waist. In an instant, he changed their positions, pushing her onto the bed.

 

On countless nights in this room, he had held her in countless different ways.

 

Only tonight, whatever he did sent every feeling through He Qingchi a hundredfold.

 

His long-suppressed emotions—the fury and disappointment of a father who, even on his deathbed, was still calculating against him—were all desperately looking for somewhere to be released.

 

He watched her as he leaned over, his dark eyes bottomless as they fixed on her. His cold fingertips traced the outline of her face again, finally stopping at her lips. His low, hoarse voice slipped out: “Bite me.”

 

He Qingchi couldn’t bring herself to bite his finger. She pressed her lips together, refusing.

 

Wen Shuchen leaned closer, his breath slightly uneven. “So I’ll know you’re real… These past few nights, staying in this room, I kept dreaming of you. And every time I woke up, you weren’t there.”

 

He Qingchi’s lower lip trembled. Trying to keep control of her emotions, she said, “Then why didn’t you send bodyguards to pick me up? Serves you right, staying alone in that old house with no one to keep you company.”

 

Even being scolded, Wen Shuchen only let out a low laugh. He cupped her face in his palms as though she were something to be cherished, his thin lips gently brushing over hers.

 

“Help me take off my tie.”

 

He Qingchi looked at his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with his words.

 

 As if bewitched, she raised her fingers and loosened the tie at his collar.

 

After a moment, Wen Shuchen lowered his head to her ear again. “And the buttons too.”

 

Her fingertips paused, then slowly moved downward.

 

One button after another—top to bottom—came undone.

 

His body was warmer than usual. Touching him didn’t feel like touching someone ill.

 

Her lashes trembled constantly. Beneath his open shirt were his chest and the tightening lines of his abs. And further down, his hand was already moving to undo the belt of his suit trousers.

 

None of this should have happened on a night spent at the old house.

 

But something deep inside He Qingchi told her she couldn’t refuse. A rush of emotion surged in her chest—an indescribable need to hold close the warmth of his body, an unreasoned but absolute trust that Wen Shuchen would never hurt her.

 

He wasn’t medicated. He wasn’t calm or gentle like usual.

 

Yet he was still trying hard to control himself. The bedsheets were already wrinkled, both pillows had fallen to the floor.

 

“Qingchi…” His lips brushed her pale earlobe.

 

She turned her face toward him, close enough for their skin to touch, intimate beyond measure. “I’m here… Qiu Jin says that after less than a year of marriage, we couldn’t possibly have such deep feelings. What she doesn’t understand is—sometimes a single moment of falling for someone is enough to be irreversible.”

 

It was the first time she bared her heart and confessed to him, soft but deeply earnest.

 

She was telling Wen Shuchen not to fear she would abandon him now.

 

Every word she spoke seemed light, yet each one carried the power to control his emotions completely.

 

Wen Shuchen stared into her eyes for a long time, his gaze deep. Then he lowered delicate, scattered kisses across her smooth shoulder, tracing all the way down her curves without pause. In the darkness, the sound of fabric tearing echoed moments later.

 

He Qingchi leaned back against his arm, her breathing slightly fast, but restrained.

 

Outside the room, downstairs in the hall—everyone else felt like they had been shut out of the world she shared with him.

 

All of Wen Shuchen’s pent-up emotions from the past days seemed to finally find release in her.

 

Eventually, she reached for some medicine. In the dark, she picked up his shirt and slipped it on, her long pale legs bare as she tried to get out of bed—only to be pulled back by the tattooed arm wrapped around her.

 

The gloom shrouding Wen Shuchen’s expression had eased. He pressed her heavily back into the blankets, not letting her go, his lips brushing her ear again, voice thick and hoarse with longing: “Let’s have a child.”

 

He Qingchi instinctively looked toward his face in the darkness, unable to see what expression he wore.

 

His palm, through the fabric of the shirt she wore, came to rest on her stomach. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be completely alone.”

 

That was why he wanted a child with her—to build a small family anew.

 

His eyesight was better than hers; even in the dim light, he could clearly see the tear clinging to her lashes. He kissed it away tenderly, and his voice grew even lower, even more earnest and pleading: “Even if it’s just out of pity… give me a child.”

 

Any woman hearing those words wouldn’t be able to refuse.

 

If it had been in the past, He Qingchi would never have imagined—even in her dreams—that Wen Shuchen, the man everyone else spoke about so highly, would one day expose the most vulnerable side of himself before her, asking her to pity him.

 

His emotions tonight were controlled on the surface, yet laced with a dangerous trace of irrationality. This wasn’t the first time—once, when he was drunk, he clung to her, wanting a child as well. After she was worn down and unable to refuse, he gave himself medication the next day.

 

Because of that incident, the two of them had given each other the cold shoulder for a month before finally reconciling.

 

This time, however, was different. Wen Shuchen wanted her to show him where she stood. His long fingers tugged her messy shirt off again, his eyes dark and intent, unwilling to miss even the slightest change in her expression. “I’ve been off medication for months. I’ve been getting my check-ups on time. Qingchi… have a child with me. Even if it’s a daughter—if it’s your child, I want them. Please?”

 

Not a single word could escape He Qingchi’s throat. Her long lashes trembled nonstop, and tears slid down her cheeks.

 

She cried silently, her heart aching for reasons she couldn’t name.

 

Even if he only wanted a child out of momentary impulse tonight… she would accept it.

 

Wen Shuchen held onto her the entire night, refusing to let go. His voice remained low and hoarse, sometimes murmuring beside her ear: “Before Wen Yue’s true identity was made public, I always thought all the affection he gave me was real. He taught me to read and write as a child. He worried I’d be too lonely, so he brought Wen Yue to the manor to be my playmate. Even when he traveled for work, he’d bring back the car model toys I liked most…”

 

“My mother was always bedridden, her health weak. Ever since I can remember, I knew he and my mother didn’t get along, but I thought he stayed with her for my sake. For a long time, I lied to myself… Even during the kidnapping case—he’d rather announce the existence of a secret illegitimate son than pay the ransom. I thought that was just a temporary strategy…”

 

“Qingchi… did my father ever care about me? Even once?”

 

Each word he forced out was thick with emotion. It made He Qingchi’s throat tighten painfully. She lifted her arms and hugged him close, her fingertips gently stroking his head. “It’s all over now… Wen Shuchen, your father no longer exists in this world. Let it all go, alright?”

 

Wen Shuchen buried his handsome face into her black hair, hiding his expression.

 

The room slowly sank into silence. The two of them lay on the disheveled bed, neither changing position.

 

Outside, dawn began to break. At some unknown time, it had already become the next day.

 

He Qingchi dozed off in a haze, only falling asleep after keeping him company for a long time.

 

When she woke again, Wen Shuchen was no longer beside her. The pillow where he had lain was cold—he must have been up for quite a while.

 

She sat up slowly, feeling unwell, as if her bones had been taken apart and reassembled.

 

When she lifted the blanket, she found her body clean. He must have washed her carefully while she slept and dressed her in fresh pajamas.

 

After thinking for a moment, she picked up her phone from the nightstand. It was already eight in the morning.

 

The funeral ceremony would begin a little after ten. Realizing she was still on time, she got up, took the black dress prepared on the sofa, and headed to the bathroom.

 

Wen Jingchun’s funeral had been arranged entirely by Wen Shuchen. Though no one had been able to see him before he passed—by the time everyone arrived at the hospital, his body had already gone cold—the ritual he arranged afterward was dignified and grand. He even secured the best burial plot available.

 

Yesterday, all the family members had returned—some stayed in nearby hotels, others at the old manor.

 

By 8:10, almost everyone had arrived.

 

Because He Qingchi had slept late this morning, she came out of the room after washing up just a little behind schedule. While adjusting her long black hair over her shoulders, mentally preparing to face the Wen family elders, she had barely taken a few steps when she heard a loud commotion downstairs—chaotic shouting, someone yelling to call an ambulance.

 

Her first reaction: Today is Wen Jingchun’s funeral.

 

Everyone present was someone with status and influence within the Wen family.

 

Even if Qiu Jin had gone mad and wanted to cause a scene, she should at least get through her husband’s funeral first. Whatever tantrum she wanted to throw afterward wouldn’t be this disgraceful.

 

He Qingchi hurried down the stairs. In the living room, a crowd of men and women in black were gathered in the center. The younger children had their eyes covered by adults. The scene was chaotic and noisy. Through the cracks between people, she caught sight of something—a jarring splash of bright red blood…

 

Above it, Wen Jingchun’s black-and-white funeral portrait hung high. Behind the glass frame, his handsome, weathered face bore a faint smile—merciful and cruel all at once—as though watching this catastrophic farce unfold beneath him.

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