Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 114 - That’s Too Unfair
Chapter 114: That’s Too Unfair
The window outside was swallowed by the deepest night. As time seeped on, the entire villa fell into a heavy, soundless quiet.
He Qingchi had already changed out of her cheongsam and into a silk nightdress. She lay on her side on the master bedroom bed, cheek pressed to the white pillow. With every breath, she caught the man’s clean, cool scent.
She lay awake, quietly watching the little one asleep beside her. Perhaps from all the excitement during the day, after his bath, he’d fallen asleep almost instantly, even letting out soft snores.
But He Qingchi didn’t fall asleep nearly as quickly. Lying in this unfamiliar master bedroom, her mind was a mess; even closing her eyes couldn’t calm her heart.
When the clock struck 1 a.m., she suddenly felt thirsty. She lifted the covers and couldn’t stay in bed anymore.
Finding her slippers, she slipped them on and left the room.
The hallway lights were still on. As she passed the corner near the study, she noticed the door was only slightly closed, a sliver of light leaking through.
Her steps paused for a heartbeat, then she turned and went downstairs.
The living room lights were off. Feeling her way in the dark, she went into the kitchen. The fridge was stuffed with fresh ingredients and fruit for juicing, but she only wanted something warm. She took out a bag of milk and heated it.
A few minutes later, He Qingchi carried a mug of hot milk back to the living room. She didn’t go upstairs; instead, she turned on a floor lamp and sat on the sofa quietly drinking, her gaze fixed on their silhouettes cast on the wall.
In moments like these, it was easy for her mind to go blank—sometimes that was the only way she felt any comfort.
Just as she was about to finish the last sip of milk, the phone on the coffee table lit up. It was the phone she had tried to return to Wen Shuchen several times, but always had it silently pushed back at her.
The screen lit and dimmed again. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached for it.
The pale light illuminated her face, stiff with conflicted emotion.
A message appeared from Wen Shuchen’s other number: [Can’t sleep?]
He Qingchi instinctively looked toward the stairs—and there stood a tall, slender shadow. He seemed to be standing by the wall lamp on purpose, afraid he might startle her if she caught a glimpse of him in the dark. His features weren’t clear.
Her pale fingers tightened around the phone as Wen Shuchen descended the stairs, step by unhurried step.
He was still in his shirt and suit pants, having been working in the study. His collar and cuffs were loosened by two buttons, giving him a relaxed look.
He stopped a few steps away.He stopped a few steps away.
“Got anything left to drink?”
She had only made one cup. Just as she was about to say no, Wen Shuchen calmly reached for the mug on the table, lifted it without minding that there was only one sip left, and drank it slowly.
His Adam’s apple moved. Setting the cup down, he said lightly, “My throat’s a little sore.”
He Qingchi could only furrow her brows.
Wen Shuchen placed the cup aside and sat down on the sofa, his dark gaze fixed on her.
She didn’t look great—silk sleepwear hugging her slender figure, skirt brushing her knees, a stretch of pale leg exposed.
She made no effort to hide. After all, he had already seen all of her before—
They were once husband and wife. In such matters, they were far more natural with each other than most men and women.
Wen Shuchen didn’t shy away either; he openly looked at her and said in a low voice, “You’ve gotten thinner.”
He really should have been saying that about himself.
She sat for a while, then rose to go upstairs—only to have him pull her back by the wrist.
He didn’t overstep; he merely rested his chin lightly on her shoulder. “If you can’t sleep… sit with me a little.”
His warm, familiar breath brushed her ear, turning it red. His hand around her wrist held just firmly enough that she couldn’t free herself.
“Just a little while, hmm?”
He Qingchi eventually stopped resisting, staring silently at their overlapping shadows on the wall.
His voice, low and slightly hoarse, brushed her ear: “These years, I couldn’t sleep either. Happens often… Sometimes I wonder, in your dreams—am I ever there?”
Her lashes fluttered; her heart tightened.
He was so close that she could smell the faint sweetness of milk on his breath—the same taste lingering on her own.
He looked deeply at her, intent clear in his gaze. “Qingchi… I think about you every day. Every night.”
She froze. Three, four years apart had made them strangers, blurring all the physical memories she once had of him. But hearing these words… it all seemed to flood back.
The whole night, he had been trying to rebuild their connection, claiming he would give her space while saying things like this. Too foul a play.
She had been thinking, just moments before he pulled her into his arms, that she shouldn’t be alone with him. He was already determined to win her back at any cost.
His body was colder than her skin.
Her hazy reason snapped back in place; her palm pressed against his chest. She turned her face away from the kiss he was about to place on her lips and whispered, “My eyes hurt tonight. Don’t make me cry again.”
He knew she cried easily whenever she saw him—yet he still pushed her like this.
His arms around her weren’t tight—if she wanted to push him away, she could. But she couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she clutched his shirt, knuckles whitening:
“Will you abandon me again? Something happens to you, and you don’t want me anymore… You throw money at me like compensation—am I supposed to be grateful?”
Back then, everything had happened too fast.
She’d confessed her feelings for him one night—only to wake up the next day and be sent away from the Wen household.
For three months in the He family, she dreamed every night that Wen Shuchen would come for her.
But instead came a team of lawyers—and financial assets.
Tears gathered again, and he wiped them as gently as before.
Her crying made his heart twist painfully. His kisses fell softly—along her eyes, down her cheek, stopping at her lips.
At first, he only brushed lightly, afraid she couldn’t take more.
Then, slowly, each kiss deepened—pressing harder, lingering longer.
He Qingchi couldn’t think at all; her lips were blocked, filled only with his warm breath.
Only when Wen Shuchen slightly loosened his hold did he keep his thin lips pressed against hers and say in a low voice, “I want to treat you well—to use every ability I have to treat you well. But I’m also afraid of hurting you even a little. Qingchi, I hope you could be ruthless and turn away and forget me… yet I also hope you could be soft-hearted, take pity on me.”
These words came from the bottom of his heart.
Hearing them made He Qingchi cry even harder. When she couldn’t see him before, wasn’t she thinking about him day and night as well?
Now that she saw him again, all the grievance and anger accumulated over the years surged up with it.
She wanted to blame him, yet all she could do was cry.
Wen Shuchen stood up, went upstairs to find a towel, soaked it in warm water, and placed it over her eyes.
He Qingchi lay on the sofa, head resting on the armrest, eyes closed. The soft glow from the floor lamp fell on her face, which had grown thinner. Her skin was extremely fair, and her lips—kissed by him—had regained a bit of color.
Wen Shuchen, tall and lean, knelt with one knee on the floor in front of the sofa and gently placed the warm towel over her eyes, leaving only her elegant nose and lips exposed.
Sometimes he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his own, leaving a faint warmth.
A few times, He Qingchi wanted to say something to him, but Wen Shuchen would quickly pull back—just a dragonfly-touch kiss—leaving her no chance to accuse him.
“Do your eyes still hurt?”
Wen Shuchen, beside her, used his fingertips to massage her temples, lingering over the delicate contours of her face.
He Qingchi slowly shifted to lie on her side. In the middle of the night, she finally felt sleepy; even her answers lagged behind: “Mm…”
Wen Shuchen hesitated for a moment, then asked, “I’ll carry you upstairs.”
They had been alone in the living room for almost two hours; it was time for bed.
He Qingchi, half-asleep, was lifted into his arms. Before falling asleep, she still worried about his physical condition—whether he had the strength to carry her upstairs. But once her face pressed against his chest and she smelled his familiar scent, she grew so sleepy she didn’t even know when she drifted off.
The night grew quieter. One by one, the lights in the villa went dark.
Wen Shuchen had already changed out of his shirt and trousers. He stood silently in front of the last lit lamp in the master bedroom. After a long moment, he raised his hand and turned it off.
Soon, darkness covered everything.
It was a dreamless night, and the next morning the sunlight outside was warm and bright.
When He Qingchi woke up, the first thing she saw was the quiet figure of the man lying next to her.
Her long eyelashes fluttered. Still dazed, she slowly made out Wen Shuchen’s face softened by the sunlight, and only then fully realized where she was.
She was no longer alone, hiding in Wushan Town. And upon waking, she could finally see Wen Shuchen lying right beside her.
Tears filled her eyes again, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
In the past three years, except for waking from nightmares and finding tears on her pillow, she had rarely cried—she had almost lost the ability to cry. Not until she saw Wen Shuchen again did that instinct return.
He Qingchi never knew she could cry so easily.
She slowly sat up without getting out of bed, lowering her gaze to look at the sleeping man beside her. She wanted to reach out and trace his features with her slender, pale fingers. When she touched his real, warm skin, those long-suppressed tears finally fell.
They landed coolly on her knees, yet the corners of her lips curved in a smile.
He Qingchi quietly recalled the moments alone with him last night and worked to calm her emotions. Just as she lifted her head to wipe her tears, she unexpectedly saw a small head poking out from the blankets.
The little one had woken at some point and was staring at her with big, dark eyes, looking a little stunned.
He Qingchi met his gaze with no preparation. Mother and son stared at each other silently for a second. Then she instinctively leaned toward him—only for the little one to scramble toward the foot of the bed with surprising agility.
To avoid waking Wen Shuchen, she lowered her voice, still a bit breathless from crying: “Why are you running?”
The little boy looked at her nervously and whispered, “Little Sister Xiao Chi, you’re going to catch me!”
“I’m not catching you…”
“I can tell! You want to catch me!”
He Qingchi unconsciously clenched her nightdress, trying to reason with the child: “When your dad wakes up, you’re not allowed to tell him…”
The little one’s curiosity was strong. He asked in a milky voice, “Not allowed to tell what? That Little Sister Xiao Chi was crying to Daddy? Or that you secretly touched Daddy’s face?”
He Qingchi almost choked from embarrassment and bit her lip: “You can’t tell him any of it!”
The boy scrunched up his face as if terribly troubled. “But, but…”
Hearing him say “but” for so long, He Qingchi couldn’t help sounding pitiful: “Please? Okay?”
The little one still looked conflicted, pouting hard: “Then why were you secretly touching my dad?”
“……”
“You won’t say?”
He Qingchi truly couldn’t explain. She glanced several times at the little one hiding at the foot of the bed, thinking of a way to grab him quickly without waking Wen Shuchen.
Perhaps sensing her intent, the boy narrowed his eyes at her. “Little Sister Xiao Chi… are you trying to catch me again?”
He Qingchi shook her head. Shook it again. “I won’t catch you anymore.”
She gave up—
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