Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 102 - A Habit Etched Into the Bone
Chapter 102: A Habit Etched Into the Bone
The first snow of the winter arrived a day early.
As the year drew to a close, the weather had turned piercingly cold. The streets were covered in a layer of white frost, yet the city of Yancheng was still bustling and lively during the day. On the street beside a private hospital, a restaurant’s second floor had been fully booked, with bodyguards stationed at the staircase.
By the window, He Qingchi’s belly had already begun to show. She had placed her wool coat over the back of the chair and was wearing an elegant long dress. Her waist had grown rounder, pregnancy had made her skin even fairer, and her black hair was tied low, revealing her delicate features.
Snowflakes drifted outside. She sat at the table eating a vegetarian hotpot.
After this meal, she would be pushed into the operating room tomorrow morning to deliver her baby.
“Your old man is so superstitious… he even found some blind fortune-teller to pick the time for your C-section. As if this little one inside you won’t have wealth and glory when he’s born?” Qin Chuan sat opposite, tapping his chopsticks against the bowl.
“My dad just wants peace of mind. Let him be. Either way, it has to be a C-section.” He Qingchi had already repeated this sentence more than ten times.
She’d recently been craving spicy food, inexplicably wanting hotpot all the time.
Before giving birth, she wanted one last indulgence.
Seeing that she still had an appetite, Qin Chuan accompanied her. Watching her eat the intensely spicy food with such calmness—her lips reddened from the heat—he himself couldn’t help drinking water. He muttered, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll make the baby cry from all this spice?”
“It’s the baby who wants it.”
From the spicy broth, she picked up a leaf of bok choy. She had been eating vegetarian lately, unable to stomach meat or fish.
Steam billowed from the pot, blurring her vision. Under her eyelashes, he couldn’t tell whether it was the spice or something else, but a faint sheen of moisture slipped past.
During these months of pregnancy, the entire He family—Qin Chuan included—had been watching her closely.
He had already been warned by Father He and no longer dared to secretly tell her anything about the Wen family. Even if she wanted to know, the internal fights in the Wen residence were impossible to pry into from the outside.
To put it simply, Qin Chuan could only say Wen Shuchen had “terrible luck.”
Ever since Old Master Wen passed away, Wen Shuchen had been battling his biological father for power. Now he was fighting a half-brother over inheritance. Other than holding the rightful heir title, he had to plan and scheme for everything on his own. If he encountered a vicious stepmother, there was even the risk of being poisoned to death.
A glamorous life—only for outsiders to see. Behind closed doors, he was just a pitiful child with no parents to love him.
After finishing her food, He Qingchi put down her chopsticks, accepted the wet wipe Qin Chuan handed her, and dabbed at her lips.
She leaned back in her chair and gazed at the falling snow outside.
The silence was too heavy, so Qin Chuan tried to make conversation: “Do you want the baby to be a girl or a boy?”
“My dad secretly asked the doctor already. It’s a boy.” Her tone was so even it held no emotion at all.
She had been like this throughout the pregnancy—detached from everything. If not for her healthy appetite and sleep, and the baby’s perfect checkups, the He family would have panicked themselves sick.
It was a heart ailment; no matter how well the body healed, it was useless.
Qin Chuan tried again: “Who do you think the baby will look like?”
This question made her still expression waver for a split second, as though a man’s facial features surfaced in her mind but refused to come into focus. Seeing this, Qin Chuan wished he could bite his own tongue—why did he always bring up the worst topics?
“Haha… babies usually look like both parents anyway.”
Her long eyelashes lowered slowly. She didn’t respond.
She stared at the steaming hotpot. After a while, she murmured, “I just tried recalling Wen Shuchen’s face. I realized… I still remember his figure, but the features of his face are starting to blur. It hasn’t even been a year, and I can barely remember what he looks like. Qin Chuan… do you think he’s already forgetting me too?”
“You were all over the news when your movie blew up a few months ago. If Wen Shuchen wants to see you, it’s easy. Hey, if you want to see him, just tell your old man to give your phone back!”
Qin Chuan couldn’t find any recent photos of Wen Shuchen online, but surely He Qingchi’s phone had some?
She hadn’t touched her phone once during these months.
She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop herself—afraid she would call Wen Shuchen.
So now, even subconsciously, she refused to go near the phone. When she saw the morning financial newspapers mention the Wen Group, even a single glimpse of the words made her avoid them like poison.
She stared at the cooling hotpot until it lost all its heat.
Outside, the snow had stopped, leaving the night deeply black and heavy.
She withdrew her gaze. After two seconds, she stood up and said to Qin Chuan, “Let’s go downstairs. I’m going back to the hospital to give birth.”
……
The day after the first snow that year, at exactly eleven thirty minutes and nine seconds in the morning—
In the obstetrics operating room of the hospital—
He Qingchi, under anesthesia, gave birth by C-section to a baby boy weighing five jin. Slightly small, but healthy.
When she regained consciousness, it was already 7 p.m.
She lay in the hospital bed unable to move. Her body ached dully, and she couldn’t even lift her fingers.
Beside her, Father He kept watch. He was on the phone reporting home, repeating over and over, “Mother and child are safe, mother and child are safe…”
He Qingchi blinked her heavy eyelids and tiredly shifted her gaze.
Seeing her wake from the anesthesia, Father He quickly hung up and hurried over. “Does your stomach hurt?”
Once the medication wore off, the pain had begun to surface. Her face was pale. “Dad… where’s the baby?”
“He Li is watching him,” Father He said as he turned to get a white towel. He carefully wiped the sweat from his daughter’s forehead, worry in his eyes mixed with a complicated emotion. Time really flew—before he knew it, the little girl he had cherished in the palm of his hand had already become the mother of someone else’s child.
After wiping her sweat, he handed her a bit of water to moisten her lips, coaxing her gently, “Do you want to see my grandson?”
In the early days of the pregnancy he’d wanted to get rid of this grandchild, yet now that the baby had been born, he couldn’t stop calling him my grandson—and he adored him to bits.
He Qingchi rested her cheek against the pillow. The smell of disinfectant clung to the air, making her frown slightly. Her voice was weak as she spoke: “Send the baby away.”
Father He froze. “Now?”
“Mhm—”
“My baby girl! If you’ve changed your mind and want to keep the baby in the He family, Dad will raise him for you.”
He tried to persuade her carefully. Now that the baby was born, he found himself reluctant to send him away. Just seeing that tiny pair of hands and feet for the first time earlier today—like a little kitten—had made his heart ache with affection.
But He Qingchi refused to look at the child even once. No matter what, she insisted he be taken to Jiangcheng that same night.
No one could change her decision.
Father He wanted to say more, but He Qingchi silenced him with one sentence—weak, breathless, but carrying a lethal force: “Dad, if you don’t send him, I’ll take him myself and go find Wen Shuchen.”
Compared to sending his grandson away, Father He’s position was unshakable.
Even if it cost his old life, he would never allow He Qingchi to return to the Wen family during such a dangerous time, where she could be pulled into their internal power struggles. That very night, he ordered several bodyguards and asked his reliable female secretary, Yao Jing, to accompany him to Jiangcheng.
In the neighboring ward, someone else’s newborn cried. Each sharp cry stabbed into He Qingchi’s ears with unbearable pain.
Her face still pressed against the white pillow, she didn’t lift her head. Tears quietly soaked her lashes and the pillow’s edge. She didn’t even have the strength to cry out loud—she could only shed tears silently like this.
Outside, it began snowing again.
He Qingchi’s long lashes trembled. Red veins laced her eyes as she stared quietly into the dark night. Having undergone a C-section only hours ago, her body hurt everywhere, and the chill seeped slowly into her fingers.
She tried to pull up the corners of her pale lips—
But even that tugged painfully.
By the time they reached Jiangcheng, it was already late at night, nearly dawn.
Father He stayed inside the car. He only instructed Yao Jing and a few bodyguards to take the baby into the Wen family’s old residence. He didn’t go in. Instead, he had her relay a message to Wen Shuchen.
But unexpectedly, they struck empty air—
Wen Shuchen wasn’t home. The bodyguards said he had gone abroad for medical treatment and wouldn’t return for three days.
Inside the car, Father He’s expression darkened. No one dared speak.
Finally, Yao Jing asked, “The butler has already notified people on the young master’s side. President He, what should we do?”
Father He’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait!”
He’d always suspected Wen Shuchen couldn’t even take care of himself properly—how could he possibly take care of Qingchi?
This child—neither his father nor mother wanted him.
The grandfather wanted him, but couldn’t keep him.
Father He was so furious he felt ready to explode. He told Yao Jing, “Once Wen Shuchen’s people arrive, don’t forget what I told you—warn him he’d better not think of coming to the He house to take my daughter. Otherwise, I’ll die right in front of him!”
Yao Jing nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the tiny baby sleeping quietly in the cradle.
He was so well-behaved—he hadn’t fussed at all during the entire journey. Even when he cried, just a bit of coaxing calmed him.
Father He also couldn’t help staring a few more times, voice softening: “He’s as well-behaved as my daughter was when she was little. Even if you hit him, he probably wouldn’t cry.”
Yao Jing didn’t dare lay hands on the baby and only smiled gently.
Half an hour later, through the car window, they finally saw Song Chao rushing over. He looked visibly shaken by the news, his voice trembling: “Where—where is the young master?”
Yao Jing straightened her clothes, then stepped out of the car.
Under the night sky, dozens of bodyguards surrounded the car. No one could approach. It was absolutely secure.
She lifted the cradle from the car and handed it to the trembling Song Chao. “Secretary Song, hold him steady.”
Song Chao used what felt like all the strength of his lifetime just to hold that small cradle.
He stood frozen, barely daring to move a step.
His eyes nervously flicked toward the car. “Is… is Madam here?”
Yao Jing shook her head and relayed Father He’s message word for word.
Song Chao’s expression turned stiff.
“The child has been delivered into your care. Secretary Song, we’ll go now,” Yao Jing said, climbing back into the car.
As the He family’s car started moving, Father He suddenly ordered the window lowered. He leaned out, shouted into the night toward Song Chao: “Tell Wen Shuchen this—when I finish taking care of my daughter, he can take care of his son. We owe each other nothing. And he better not drag his sick body to the He residence—this old man won’t pity him!”
Song Chao was so startled he nearly dropped the cradle.
Cold sweat burst down his back as he quickly called for a bodyguard to help.
When he looked up again, the He family’s car was already far away, swallowed by the darkness.
“Secretary Song… this child…” someone whispered.
The bodyguard lifted the cradle with one hand. It was so light it felt like he was carrying a kitten.
Inside, Song Chao was mentally screaming What the hell as he stared at the baby boy in the cradle with a complicated expression. Since it was freezing outside, he instructed the bodyguard to bring the baby into the car. All of them were big, muscular men—strong arms, rough hands—and now they were supposed to take care of a one-day-old newborn. None of them knew where to start.
“When President Wen finishes his surgery, he’ll be back. So… who’s going to be the temporary nanny for the night?”
The moment Song Chao asked, all the bodyguards fell silent.
A moment later, he saw in the far corner of the back seat little Song Beibei timidly raising a finger at him. “Brother, you do it!”
Song Chao: “……”
One week later.
He Qingchi’s C-section wound had begun to heal, and she was brought back to the He residence for postpartum recovery.
Because she had been too thin during pregnancy, her health wasn’t good and her appetite was weak.
She no longer liked opening the windows. She preferred drawing the heavy curtains shut, blocking out all light, and lying silently in the dim room. Sometimes she slept an entire day and still had no energy.
Father He never mentioned the child after returning from Jiangcheng.
No one in the He family dared bring up the baby in front of her. Even in the household, everyone had been instructed never to say those two words.
Right after giving birth, her body was too drained, and she didn’t have the strength to think too much.
She drifted in a haze for a long time, until suddenly she remembered—she never gave her diary to Wen Shuchen. She lifted the blanket and got out of bed, barefoot, not even bothering with shoes, and began rummaging through her drawers.
But the diary was gone.
He Qingchi stood there, hair disheveled, her expression blank and stunned.
The closed bedroom door pushed open as Father He walked in holding a bowl of chicken soup.
Seeing her standing barefoot during confinement made him nearly explode. “Quick, quick! Back to bed!”
Still searching for her thick diary, He Qingchi asked in a daze, “Dad… where’s my diary?”
Only Father He in the entire household would dare move her things.
“I put it away. When the situation is right, I’ll give it to Wen Shuchen.”
Father He had his own plan. If he sent the baby and the diary now, what if Wen Shuchen softened, came to the He family personally—and took his daughter away?
Don’t be fooled by how heartbroken she seemed now. If Wen Shuchen showed up in person, she’d follow him without hesitation.
Father He knew this well. He didn’t even tell her another secret:
During the ten months she stayed at the He residence, Wen Shuchen had sent her a handwritten card every single month.
He never read them. He hid them.
He Qingchi knew none of this. She sat on the edge of the bed, long hair messy, the cold from the floor still clinging to her feet.
Father He quickly covered her with the blanket and spoke earnestly: “I promise you—once the Wen family’s internal struggle settles a bit, your diary will be sent to Wen Shuchen.”
He Qingchi closed her eyes. Her voice was soft, almost weightless: “Dad… you think you’re doing what’s best for me. He thinks he’s doing what’s best for me. You’re both only doing what you think is right.”
Father He’s expression stiffened for a moment, and he fell silent.
He Qingchi didn’t want anyone to see the pain in her eyes. Her lashes cast shadows over her thin face. Her breathing rose and fell as she tried to keep her voice steady: “I don’t know what to do, Dad. In the year I was married to him, I got used to living in his private residence, waking up to the clothes he laid out for me, seeing him calmly waiting in the dining room for breakfast. He’d scold me for walking around without shoes, for washing my hair after ten at night. Even when we were apart in different cities, he’d message me at nine every night without fail…”
Her life was filled with traces of Wen Shuchen. His habits had carved themselves deep into her bones.
During her pregnancy, He Qingchi forced herself not to think about him, to break the habits she’d developed with him. But whenever someone accidentally mentioned his name—even if they shut up immediately—she would think of him for a long, long time afterward.
She didn’t cry—not a single tear. She had cried enough in the hospital.
But these words were even more heartbreaking.
Father He pulled her gently into his arms, patting her shoulder. “It’s all over now…”
He Qingchi buried her face in his shirt, clutching his clothes tightly like she used to as a child. Her fingertips turned white. “Dad… help me.”
If she continued like this, she would fall into postpartum depression.
Father He’s old eyes shimmered with tears. The sight of his daughter this helpless tore him apart. He hurried to comfort her: “Okay, okay, okay… as long as it’s not sending you back to the Wen family to die, I’d give you my own life if you needed it.”
Something clogged her throat; she couldn’t make a sound. She didn’t cry anymore, just fell silent.
Afraid she truly would develop postpartum depression, Father He finally compromised: “Alright, I promise—your diary will be delivered to Wen Shuchen tomorrow. Okay?”
He Qingchi slowly calmed down. She looked at her anxious father for a long moment, then lay back down on the bed. She only took a couple of sips of the chicken soup before closing her eyes as if exhausted.
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