Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 99 - Gotten Used to Being Spoiled
Chapter 99: Gotten Used to Being Spoiled
At nine o’clock in the evening, in Jiangcheng.
Under the heavy night sky, a light drizzle was falling. The streetlights along the road were dim and hazy. Qu Bixin drove into an old-style row villa district. The place wasn’t large, and the security wasn’t as good as that of a high-end villa area. She only had to report her name to enter Shen Fu’s residence with ease.
Qu Bixin got out of the car. She didn’t even need to ring the doorbell before stepping inside.
She knew all of Shen Fu’s passcodes by heart. Raising her hand, she unlocked the door and walked in on high heels.
The lights in the living room were still on. Without changing shoes, she saw, from a distance, the mute woman Shen Tingji sitting on the sofa watching TV. The worst part was that the TV was on mute, with English subtitles scrolling on screen.
Was this mute woman showing off her foreign language skills at home?
Qu Bixin made no attempt to hide the sound of her heels, and Shen Tingji certainly wasn’t deaf. When she turned her head and saw the uninvited guest, the young woman’s face even seemed to show a hint of disgust.
“……”
Qu Bixin and Shen Tingji had always detested each other.
If it weren’t for gathering information about the Wen family on He Qingchi’s behalf, you couldn’t even drag her here on a palanquin.
“Where’s Shen Fu?”
She had learned to be more mature now—no more yelling or threatening the mute girl.
Shen Tingji lazily adjusted the hem of her cotton loungewear, pretending not to hear her.
Qu Bixin didn’t expect words from a mute anyway, so she looked toward the stairs.
The villa’s layout was simple, just two floors. The decor was cold and clean, entirely unlike the warm, lived-in atmosphere it had when she used to live with him. He probably didn’t have the money to decorate anymore—being able to stay in an old villa was already good enough.
On the surface, she disdained it to death, and she lifted her chin as she headed upstairs.
Some of Shen Fu’s habits were still carved into her memory. At nine o’clock, he should be in the study. Even without work, he would rather shut himself inside there. She quickly found the study based on the second-floor layout.
Light spilled from the crack under the door. Qu Bixin kicked it open with her heel.
Sure enough, Shen Fu was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, tall and lean, talking on the phone with someone. Hearing the loud noise, he frowned and looked over.
Qu Bixin felt as though he shot her a glare. Pressing her red lips together, she said, “I need to ask you something.”
Shen Fu didn’t hurry. He finished giving instructions to the person on the phone, then hung up after several seconds. Only then did he give proper attention to the woman who had barged in like a bandit.
It was April or May, so Qu Bixin no longer feared the cold. She wore a light red V-neck dress. Her skin was pale, and the fabric hugged the curve of her waist—slim beyond description.
She had deliberately put on fine makeup before coming, even choosing her lipstick color with careful calculation.
Shen Fu set his phone on the desk, and after a moment, said only one sentence: “Close the door.”
Qu Bixin also didn’t want their conversation overheard by the mute girl downstairs, so she obediently went to close it. Then she returned and asked directly, “It seems someone from the Wen family died today. Do you know anything about it?”
Standing before the desk, Shen Fu—dressed in a light gray sweater and black trousers—looked calm and harmless under the warm lighting. He removed his watch and placed it beside his phone in an orderly manner. Low-key luxury. Refined taste.
Qu Bixin noticed the brand-name watch too and thought: no money, yet still wearing something that expensive.
This man really got spoiled after four years with her—completely raised into having extravagant taste.
Shen Fu turned around with a calm expression, his eyes settling on her expressive face. “Since when do you care about the Wen family?”
“I’m asking on behalf of He Qingchi.”
Qu Bixin wasn’t good at playing mind games with him, so she went with honesty.
Unfortunately, Shen Fu didn’t appreciate it. His demeanor remained utterly casual.
Qu Bixin waited for ages, but he still said nothing. Unable to hold back, she asked, “Did Wen Shuchen die or not?”
Shen Fu’s tone was light and even: “How would I know?”
Qu Bixin didn’t believe a word of it.
This man had even sold off Shen Tingji—the girl he’d raised for over a decade—for the sake of power and profit. All to climb the Wen family’s ladder and gain footing in Jiangcheng. How could he not care about the Wen family’s situation?
She stepped closer on her heels, intending to show she wasn’t intimidated, but her petite height betrayed her.
Shen Fu lowered his head slightly, looking at her from close range with an unreadable expression.
Qu Bixin felt strange under his gaze. Just as confusion flickered across her face, she heard his low voice: “Go get me two tissues.”
“If I get them, you’ll tell me?”
Qu Bixin wasn’t about to do something for him for free. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him for some time, but something about the aura around him felt familiar yet faintly foreign.
Shen Fu’s thin lips curved slightly as he uttered something simple: “If you don’t get them, how will you know?”
It was just tissues—something solved in under a minute.
Qu Bixin spotted the wet wipes box on the desk. Her heels made crisp sounds on the floor as she walked over. All the while, the man’s eyes stayed fixed on her back, though she didn’t notice as she silently complained to herself.
She set the whole box in front of him. “Here.”
Shen Fu took two sheets and lazily wiped his long fingers.
His hands were slender, well-defined, the nails neatly trimmed. Whatever he did with such hands looked refined.
Qu Bixin was briefly dazed by the sight, but then Shen Fu folded the used wipes neatly and tossed them into the trash. He lifted his eyelids and glanced at her, his tone cool but carrying an irresistible dominance: “Step back five steps.”
Her eyes drifted up to his too-perfect features.
His face was as striking as ever, his deep eyes fixed on her.
Thinking he would finally tell her something if she complied, Qu Bixin turned and took five steps back—ending up right in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the darkness was lit by only a few streetlamps, making everything look faint and unreal.
“How long are you planning to keep playing coy—”
She started to turn around, but suddenly felt his long fingers pressing between her shoulder blades.
Her body was pushed against the cold glass. Panic flashed in her eyes just as Shen Fu’s figure loomed in, completely trapping her with his presence, sealing off every inch of escape.
“Shen Fu!”
She reacted too late.
With the hand he had just wiped clean, he began unfastening the buttons of her dress. His handsome expression didn’t change, but through the black shirt on his chest, he pressed her firmly against the glass—blocking out the entire world…
A few minutes later.
Qu Bixin finally managed to twist around and face Shen Fu, her fingertips clutching the collar of his shirt.
“Shen Tingji is still downstairs. Aren’t you afraid she’ll hear?”
How rotten could this man be?
Was he not worried that Shen Tingji might hear something, come upstairs, and see the two of them in the study looking completely disheveled?
Shen Fu held her easily in his strong arms, barely using any effort. The two of them were entangled in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. The darkness outside was silent and deep, making it feel as though they could be discovered at any moment.
That kind of thrill was different from before.
After all, she was a woman—no matter how much she struggled, she always ended up forced into submission.
Even bringing up Shen Tingji did nothing to make Shen Fu restrain himself.
Her hair had grown longer; his refined face brushed against it, breathing in her scent. His voice was low and hoarse, vibrating straight into her chest: “You came here yourself. And you wore a dress this thin, didn’t you?”
Since the divorce, Qu Bixin’s style had changed entirely from sweet-dark aesthetics to a mature, seductive look.
She had reshaped her beautiful almond eyes—now fox-like and alluring—and returned to the version of herself who liked short skirts, fishnet stockings, crossing her long legs while smoking and cursing.
But the way Shen Fu spoke only infuriated her. She snapped back, “What I wear is none of your damn business!”
Something intense flickered in his eyes. If she didn’t obey, he had plenty of ways to deal with her.
Her freshly done nails scratched his neck. His shirt was open at the top, revealing his collarbone—also not spared by her, now marked with fine, blood-tinged lines.
Shen Fu’s brows tightened slightly, as though she had genuinely hurt him. His eyes narrowed as he spoke in a flat voice: “Wen Shuchen drank the tea as well. Because of his special identity, the Wen family will seal all information. Nothing will be released.”
Qu Bixin’s attention shifted immediately. She parted her lips.
Shen Fu grasped her face, forcing her to look directly at him. “In this internal struggle, Wen Yue sacrificed his own mother. He has no weakness left for others to use. From here on, the real war between him and Wen Shuchen has only just started.”
“So sending He Qingchi back to the He family is better for everyone?”
No wonder Wen Shuchen had let the He family take her away, and hadn’t answered her calls.
Only by sending her away could he fight Wen Yue without worry.
Shen Fu more or less confirmed her guess. “Wen Yue has already become a madman.”
As an outsider, Qu Bixin didn’t know what to say.
She even felt that He Qingchi staying at the He family to save her own life was for the best. Poisoning and murder—only the Wen family could produce such absurd things.
And now that Wen Yue had lost his mother, who knew whether he also wanted Wen Shuchen to lose his wife?
She shifted her gaze back to Shen Fu, gripping his shoulder through his shirt. “You have to tell me how Wen Shuchen is doing!”
But he had already said the information was sealed. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t tell her.
Shen Fu’s mind in business was always cold and rational. He wasn’t going to spill everything just because he had slept with her.
Qu Bixin was furious—she hadn’t managed to get a single useful answer.
Pressed against the cold glass window, she clawed at him again. “Shen Fu… if you have any guts, don’t let me go downstairs. Otherwise, I’ll tell that mute downstairs every single thing that just happened up here.”
There was just a single floor between them, yet Shen Fu had acted without the slightest restraint.
He clearly didn’t care about Shen Tingji at all. His brows lifted lazily, fingers pinching her chin hard enough to hurt. His voice was low, hoarse, and dripping with a wicked indifference: “Whatever I want to do to you, I can do even with her watching. You think I’m afraid of you talking?”
Qu Bixin sucked in a breath, furious—she had never seen a man this shameless.
Shen Fu’s dark eyes fixed on her for a moment. Then he suddenly covered her eyes with his hand, blocking out his expression entirely. Her hearing sharpened; all she could hear was his roughened breathing.
She didn’t know how long it lasted—maybe more than half an hour.
Eventually, she slid slowly down from the window, her knees touching the floor. She braced herself with shaky fingers to keep from collapsing. Her long lashes trembled as she lifted her gaze—Shen Fu was calmly pulling on his black suit trousers, not even bothering to fasten his belt yet.
He lit a cigarette, smoke curling around him, softening the lines of his handsome face.
He looked completely satisfied—anyone could tell.
Qu Bixin cursed silently and said with spite, “I’m not taking anything afterward. Deal with it. Disgusting.”
Shen Fu had never taken precautions with her.
Which meant she always had to scramble afterward. This time, she wanted to disgust him back by saying so.
But he only let out a cold laugh. He knelt down so they were eye level, tapped her cheek with the hand holding the cigarette, arrogant and wordless.
The gesture alone filled her with humiliation.
She had underestimated Shen Fu. Drugging him in Japan had probably been the stupidest thing she’d ever done—stupider than running away with him four years ago and giving up her life as a rich heiress.
Ten minutes later.
After pulling herself together and tidying up, Qu Bixin went downstairs. The living room lights were still on. Shen Tingji was still sitting silently on the sofa, eyes fixed on the English subtitles on the TV.
She wondered about the villa’s soundproofing—whether anything upstairs had been heard.
Seeing Shen Tingji reminded her of what Shen Fu had just done.
She stood still for a moment, unable to swallow her anger.
Her heels clicked across the floor until she stood in front of Shen Tingji.
The mute woman finally reacted, glaring at her with disgust.
Qu Bixin picked up a glass of water from the table—already cold—and without shame or hesitation, splashed it straight onto Shen Tingji’s chest. Her dimple deepened as she smiled coldly. “Look at me like that again, and next time I’ll dig your eyes out.”
Caught off guard, Shen Tingji was soaked, her expression twisting in fury.
But only Qu Bixin could be even crazier than her—acting with no moral bottom line at all. She tossed the glass to the floor, letting it shatter loudly, then stood there in her heels, waiting.
Only when she saw Shen Fu appear at the stairs did she lift her chin in defiance.
His expression was dark as he walked over, face unreadable.
Shen Tingji trembled, hands and feet shaking, tears welling in her eyes.
Shen Fu grabbed Qu Bixin’s wrist and dragged her straight out of the villa.
His grip was harsh—her wrist reddened instantly.
Qu Bixin held back the pain, gritting her teeth as she warned him, “If you dare bully me again, I’ll beat your precious woman downstairs to death!”
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