Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 110 - Don’t Lie to Me
Chapter 110: Don’t Lie to Me
He Qingchi lowered her gaze to meet the little one’s wide, dark eyes. He seemed to be waiting politely for her answer, with just a hint of expectation.
In the child’s subconscious, the He family and Wushan Town were not his own home. So if he wanted to invite his father over to play, he needed the host’s approval.
Thinking of this, a faint soreness rose in her chest, and the smile on her lips faded slightly. “Your father is too busy…”
The little one didn’t quite understand, but he was good at reading people’s moods. It seemed he sensed that his mother, like his grandfather, wasn’t very fond of his father. At such a young age, he already knew how to divert the topic. His little mouth chirped, “I want to eat!”
The pre-dawn darkness was thick, lit only by the soft glow of the lanterns hanging high. He Qingchi asked Aunt Zhang to set a table in the courtyard, covering it with a dark blue cloth. On it were simple home-cooked dishes.
She washed the little one’s hands and placed him on the chair.
Her grandmother was old, so she didn’t disturb her, reminding the child to speak softly.
“I know,” the little one said, tilting his tiny face up, waiting for He Qingchi to ladle soup and put food on his plate.
Even without any experience raising children, this child was unbelievably easy to care for.
At least… before bedtime.
He Qingchi spent nearly forty minutes accompanying him through a midnight snack, then took him to the room to change into pajamas. By 2 a.m., the entire courtyard was quiet except for a few distant barks. Once everyone else had settled down, the child—full and rested—began to fuss.
He Qingchi stepped out of bed in her black nightdress, lit a small candle lamp, and stood by the bed, watching the little one huddled in the blanket, crying. His chubby face scrunched up as if he’d suffered the greatest injustice.
“I want Daddy… Daddy needs to sleep with me…”
He cried until he hiccupped, his tiny voice insisting he wanted his father right now.
He Qingchi obviously couldn’t manifest a Wen Shuchen out of thin air. She found a handkerchief, wiped his face, and gently asked: “It’s so late. Your father is asleep too. How about we talk about it tomorrow?”
Just moments earlier he’d been cheerful and talkative, showing no signs of a late-night meltdown. This sudden bout of crying nearly overwhelmed her.
The little one sniffled, then said pitifully, “Daddy always sleeps with me…”
“You’re not lying to me, right? It’s always your father?” He Qingchi hadn’t forgotten the night of He Li’s wedding—if it weren’t for her and Qu Bixin going after the child, Wen Shuchen wouldn’t have rushed over from the airport.
Which meant the child had been perfectly fine staying in the hotel with Shen Fu.
The little one blinked, stunned for two seconds, then said, “Little Daddy sleeps with me too.”
This “Little Daddy” was Shen Fu.
He Qingchi asked softly, “Besides the two of them raising you, is there anyone else?”
The child didn’t answer. Wrapped tightly in the blanket, only his tear-stained face peeked out as he repeated, “I want Daddy…”
He Qingchi really couldn’t coax him. Standing by the bed for half the night, she finally fetched her phone and handed it to him. “You can video call your father, okay?”
He had cried so much already.
The little one seemed to understand she truly couldn’t make his father appear. Knowing when to yield, he nodded.
He Qingchi handed him the phone and quietly stepped outside.
She stood there silently, listening to the little voice inside calling “Daddy,” followed by soft, indistinct whispers.
She didn’t go back in. Instead, she slowly slid down and sat by the doorway.
Her thin arms, exposed under the nightdress, brushed against the cool wooden door, giving her a moment of clarity. The wall illuminated by dim yellow lantern light showed its age—years of wind and rain leaving blotched traces.
She counted the painted vines on the wall. After a long time, the room grew quiet—no more crying.
She had no sleepiness at all, her thoughts jumbled and restless.
Until the door creaked open. She blinked and saw the little one standing there barefoot, holding the phone, standing right behind the door.
“Little Sister Xiao Chi, I’m not crying anymore…”
His tears were all gone, and his teary voice had returned to normal.
Surely Wen Shuchen had soothed him. He Qingchi felt her heart loosen and glanced at the phone.
The little one handed it to her. Thankfully, the video call had already ended.
He Qingchi stood, turned off the courtyard lights.
Plunging everything into darkness, then she bent down and carried the child back to the bed.
After such a chaotic night, both mother and son slept in late.
Nearly the whole morning had passed. When Grandmother opened the door holding a tray of freshly roasted sweet potatoes, she saw the two of them sound asleep on the carved wooden bed—one big, one small. The plush quilt had nearly slipped off the edge. He Qingchi slept with her face on the pillow, while the little one had his head resting on her stomach.
Grandmother shook her head at the sight. She walked over, gently woke He Qingchi, and reminded her of the time.
Still dazed, He Qingchi looked blankly for a while, and when she finally came fully awake, she realized something soft was pressing on her belly.
Seeing it was the child’s head, her mood lifted.
Grandmother opened the window and handed her hot water. “Go wash up.”
He Qingchi slipped out of bed quietly and went to wash in the next room. She wore a cheongsam again, her long black hair pinned up. Under the sunlight, her slender wrists were even paler, and her whole presence was so breathtaking that the little one—now awake—stared at her in awe.
Even at such a young age, he already had his own sense of aesthetics. While the grandmother next to him was helping him get dressed, he said, “My mom is so pretty.”
The elderly woman was amused by the child’s innocent words. Then she heard him ask, very seriously, “I was born from Mommy. Will I also be this good-looking in the future?”
Hearing this, He Qingchi couldn’t help but smile.
The best compliment in this world probably can’t compare to one that comes from your own biological son.
Seeing her smile, the little guy pounced into her arms again, showering her with sweet praises. He had completely lost the annoying attitude from last night when he cried for his dad.
He Qingchi spent the entire morning surrounded by the child’s compliments and little love confessions. In the afternoon, she was indoors sewing a cheongsam, sitting gracefully on a chair, embroidering with needle and thread. Nearby, the little one was lying on the chaise longue, cupping his face in his hands, watching her with full concentration.
Whenever he glanced over, she would hear his soft, childish voice say, “Little Sister Xiao Chi, I really like you.”
Naturally, He Qingchi didn’t ask questions like whether he liked Dad more or Mom more. As long as the child didn’t resent his biological mother, she was already very content.
By nighttime, Wen Shuchen’s phone call came as expected.
The little guy did not fight her for the phone. When he heard it was Daddy, he ran into the courtyard looking for grandmother, leaving He Qingchi alone inside.
She sat at her vanity. When she answered the call, she could clearly see her own expression reflected in the clean mirror.
There was some background noise on Wen Shuchen’s end—faint German, likely business discussions at some event. Yet at exactly nine o’clock, as he always used to, he called her.
He Qingchi didn’t speak much. Whenever she did, it was mostly about how much the child had eaten today.
At those moments, Wen Shuchen would fall into a deep silence, as if hoping she would say just one more word.
“Are you listening?” After she finished reporting the child’s day and the line had gone quiet for too long, she finally spoke.
Wen Shuchen gave a low hum in reply, his voice gentle and pleasant: “I already talked with our son last night… He won’t cry at night anymore.”
…This was something that could be negotiated?
If she didn’t love the child so much, He Qingchi might have suspected the little guy was acting.
Wen Shuchen paused for a few seconds, then asked, “In a few days, may I visit Wushan Town?”
Perhaps afraid she would resist him getting close, he added, “I just want to bring some daily necessities for the child. The Wen Corporation has been busy lately, and in the past, I sent everything through Shen Fu… I won’t come inside.”
He Qingchi had heard the child call Shen Fu “little dad” before. Now, listening to Wen Shuchen speak like this, her old suspicions were quietly confirmed. Her lips moved several times, but in the end, she still didn’t ask how his situation was now.
Some things—once asked—could no longer be pretended away.
Seeing she didn’t respond, Wen Shuchen also fell silent.
Through the phone, only the faint sound of their breathing could be heard.
He Qingchi lowered her eyes, hiding her thoughts. Before hanging up, she still gave him an answer: “Send me a text telling me what the child needs.”
The implied meaning was her refusal. No room for negotiation.
The call ended. At that moment, Wen Shuchen stood on a quiet balcony of the banquet hall, dressed in a flawless suit. Four bodyguards stood behind him, blocking anyone from approaching and disturbing the one single daily moment he could speak with He Qingchi.
He put his phone back into his pocket and asked a bodyguard for a cigarette.
He had never been a smoker. In recent years, he had completely quit. Now he merely held the cigarette between his fingers, rolling it back and forth as if squeezing out pressure. The faint scent of tobacco lingered in the air.
Shen Fu walked over, carrying a glass of champagne, also dressed in a high-end suit. Since more than a year ago, he had begun to interact with Wen Shuchen openly in front of everyone, unbothered by anyone calling him two-faced for navigating between the brothers of the Wen family.
“I heard you sent Xiao Ci to the He family?”
The words “I heard” made it clear the news had already spread throughout the Wen family.
Wen Shuchen calmly tossed the cigarette into the trash, his clean, slender fingers wiping themselves with a white handkerchief. He lifted his eyes and looked at Shen Fu, speaking in an even tone: “I’m preparing a blind date for Qu Bixin. Want to see the candidates?”
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