Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 119 - Want to Become Mrs. Shen Again?
Happy Reading~Chapter 119: Want to Become Mrs. Shen Again?
As evening approached and the doorbell of the villa rang, He Qingchi was still in the kitchen helping the housemaid. Over her dark teal dress she wore an apron, her long black hair tied loosely at the back — she looked very much like a gentle, domestic wife.
All because the little one had said he wanted to eat the food Mommy cooked. Even though He Qingchi hadn’t stepped into a kitchen in eight hundred years, she washed her hands clean and stood beside the maid, following instructions.
Hearing the doorbell, she slipped on her slippers and went to open the door herself.
For no reason other than wanting to first see who exactly Qu Bixin’s man was.
Outside the villa, under the porch lights, Qu Bixin stood arm-in-arm with a young man with a flirtatious, attractive face. From his looks alone, it wasn’t surprising she had found someone new.
“Xiao Cen.”
Qu Bixin blinked at her and introduced him.
He Qingchi understood and invited them inside.
Qu Bixin glanced around the villa, sat on the sofa, and then fixed her eyes on the apron around He Qingchi’s waist. “Look at you — you’re basically the role model for all women now.”
It was rare to hear anything nice from her, but He Qingchi was used to it.
She untied her apron and addressed Xiao Cen, “Please, have a seat. Do you prefer tea?”
Xiao Cen gave her a lazy smile, his features delicate and handsome. “Water is fine, thank you.”
He Qingchi was about to say more, but Qu Bixin jumped in ahead of her: “Don’t be polite with him. Xiao Xiao is the least pretentious man I’ve ever met.”
“…”
Right — considering one person in this room was pretentious.
What if both of them had this kind of virtue?
He Qingchi smiled gently at Xiao Cen and then signaled at Qu Bixin with her eyes: “If you want something for dinner, go tell the maid in the kitchen.”
Leaning against Xiao Cen, Qu Bixin ignored the hint and deliberately stretched her voice into a childish whine: “I can’t be apart from Xiao Xiao for even a second — I’m not going to the kitchen. By the way, where’s your son?”
He Qingchi couldn’t stand her lovestruck attitude. She glanced toward the backyard pool and said, “Then don’t blame me for not warning you.”
“Warning me about what?”
Just as Qu Bixin looked confused, she noticed He Qingchi glancing repeatedly toward the backyard.
She still didn’t get it and asked, “Your husband is home?”
He Qingchi only smiled quietly — she’d already given the hint.
She turned back to the kitchen to finish her dish, leaving Qu Bixin stunned in the living room. Qu Bixin looked at her boyfriend beside her.
Xiao Cen considered for a moment and said, “If Mr. Wen is home, I should at least greet him.”
“You don’t—” The words “you don’t want to get mixed up with her husband” almost slipped out of Qu Bixin’s mouth. But saying bad things about someone’s husband while being a guest wasn’t appropriate, so she swallowed it and muttered, “Anyway, keep your distance to stay safe.”
Xiao Cen laughed at her cuteness. He reached out to touch her cheek, but Qu Bixin instinctively dodged, her eyes flashing with guardedness — quickly hidden as she laughed it off: “I’m wearing makeup.”
Luckily, Xiao Cen wasn’t the type to get upset at women. His gaze lingered lovingly on her delicate features as he said, almost sincerely, “You look better without makeup.”
No woman dislikes sweet talk, and Qu Bixin beamed at him.
Just then, Xiao Cen’s phone rang.
He checked the screen, apologized, and stepped out of the living room to answer it.
Left alone and bored, Qu Bixin waited. Soon, she heard a child’s laughter coming from the backyard and remembered He Qingchi’s vague “warning.”
Still confused, she stayed put, waiting for Xiao Cen.
Two or three minutes later.
Qu Bixin stood up to go to the restroom, conveniently heading toward the backyard. As she walked, she suddenly saw a little yellow duck wobbling toward her.
She was startled at first — then heard a child’s voice approaching too.
Kindly, she bent down, grabbed the runaway duck, and held it in her palm.
Standing upright again with a smile, she lifted her head — and froze.
Wen Shuchen’s son wasn’t wearing shoes, his chubby pale little feet dangling in the air because a tall, silent man was holding him in his arms as he walked over. The man wasn’t wearing his suit jacket; his shirt and the hems of his dress pants were slightly wet — he’d likely been playing near the pool.
“Auntie, that’s my duck!”
The child’s sweet voice snapped Qu Bixin out of her daze.
She put the duck down and avoided getting any closer to the man.
This tiny avoidance made Shen Fu raise his eyes and look at her.
Qu Bixin kept a perfectly serious expression and stayed still. She wore a high-waisted red mini skirt that suited her complexion, showing off her slim waist and long pale legs.
Noticing the man’s gaze lingering a bit too long, Qu Bixin wanted to curse him for being shameless — but not in front of a child. So she kept a fake smile on her face and walked toward the restroom without a word.
As she disappeared, the child blinked and said, puzzled, “Little Daddy, I think that Auntie doesn’t like men.”
Shen Fu’s gentle smile returned. Looking at the little one in his arms, even his voice softened: “Oh? And how did you figure that out?”
“Because she said I’m a little ugly clown. And when she saw you, she made a dark face.” The child pointed at his own cheek with his tiny finger. Great-grandma had said he looked like Daddy — so how could he be an ugly clown!
This auntie doesn’t like men, and her eyesight isn’t good either.
Shen Fu carried the child back to the sofa and sat him down, first wiping his little feet dry and putting his shoes on. Unhurriedly, he said, “Then I’ll go ask her whether she really doesn’t like men, just like you say.”
The little one half-understood, sitting there like a plump, obedient dumpling, still hugging his little yellow duck.
Shen Fu let him stay put for a moment, then got up and left the living room.
Water splashed for a few seconds, then stopped.
Qu Bixin stood before the mirror touching up her makeup. She reapplied her rosy lipstick and tossed the used tissue into the trash.
After calming herself for a minute or two, she felt the waves of emotion caused by Shen Fu finally settle. At the same time, she cursed herself for being pathetic. She reminded herself not to think about this man anymore—whether he lived or died had stopped having anything to do with Qu Bixin four years ago.
After finishing her internal pep talk, she opened the bathroom door to leave, planning to find He Qingchi and settle the score.
That woman was too unreliable—she didn’t even bother to clarify that Shen Fu was here.
But the moment she opened the door, she nearly jumped in fright.
Shen Fu, taller than her, blocked her way effortlessly.
Qu Bixin froze completely, then her expression twisted in annoyance: “Are you a pervert? Even listening in on women using the bathroom?”
It had been some time since the last time they parted.
As evening approached and the doorbell of the villa rang, He Qingchi was still in the kitchen helping the housemaid. Over her dark teal dress she wore an apron, her long black hair tied loosely at the back — she looked very much like a gentle, domestic wife.
All because the little one had said he wanted to eat the food Mommy cooked. Even though He Qingchi hadn’t stepped into a kitchen in eight hundred years, she washed her hands clean and stood beside the maid, following instructions.
Hearing the doorbell, she slipped on her slippers and went to open the door herself.
For no reason other than wanting to first see who exactly Qu Bixin’s man was.
Outside the villa, under the porch lights, Qu Bixin stood arm-in-arm with a young man with a flirtatious, attractive face. From his looks alone, it wasn’t surprising she had found someone new.
“Xiao Cen.”
Qu Bixin blinked at her and introduced him.
He Qingchi understood and invited them inside.
Qu Bixin glanced around the villa, sat on the sofa, and then fixed her eyes on the apron around He Qingchi’s waist. “Look at you — you’re basically the role model for all women now.”
It was rare to hear anything nice from her, but He Qingchi was used to it.
She untied her apron and addressed Xiao Cen, “Please, have a seat. Do you prefer tea?”
Xiao Cen gave her a lazy smile, his features delicate and handsome. “Water is fine, thank you.”
He Qingchi was about to say more, but Qu Bixin jumped in ahead of her: “Don’t be polite with him. Xiao Xiao is the least pretentious man I’ve ever met.”
“…”
Right — considering one person in this room was pretentious.
What if both of them had this kind of virtue?
He Qingchi smiled gently at Xiao Cen and then signaled at Qu Bixin with her eyes: “If you want something for dinner, go tell the maid in the kitchen.”
Leaning against Xiao Cen, Qu Bixin ignored the hint and deliberately stretched her voice into a childish whine: “I can’t be apart from Xiao Xiao for even a second — I’m not going to the kitchen. By the way, where’s your son?”
He Qingchi couldn’t stand her lovestruck attitude. She glanced toward the backyard pool and said, “Then don’t blame me for not warning you.”
“Warning me about what?”
Just as Qu Bixin looked confused, she noticed He Qingchi glancing repeatedly toward the backyard.
She still didn’t get it and asked, “Your husband is home?”
He Qingchi only smiled quietly — she’d already given the hint.
She turned back to the kitchen to finish her dish, leaving Qu Bixin stunned in the living room. Qu Bixin looked at her boyfriend beside her.
Xiao Cen considered for a moment and said, “If Mr. Wen is home, I should at least greet him.”
“You don’t—” The words “you don’t want to get mixed up with her husband” almost slipped out of Qu Bixin’s mouth. But saying bad things about someone’s husband while being a guest wasn’t appropriate, so she swallowed it and muttered, “Anyway, keep your distance to stay safe.”
Xiao Cen laughed at her cuteness. He reached out to touch her cheek, but Qu Bixin instinctively dodged, her eyes flashing with guardedness — quickly hidden as she laughed it off: “I’m wearing makeup.”
Luckily, Xiao Cen wasn’t the type to get upset at women. His gaze lingered lovingly on her delicate features as he said, almost sincerely, “You look better without makeup.”
No woman dislikes sweet talk, and Qu Bixin beamed at him.
Just then, Xiao Cen’s phone rang.
He checked the screen, apologized, and stepped out of the living room to answer it.
Left alone and bored, Qu Bixin waited. Soon, she heard a child’s laughter coming from the backyard and remembered He Qingchi’s vague “warning.”
Still confused, she stayed put, waiting for Xiao Cen.
Two or three minutes later.
Qu Bixin stood up to go to the restroom, conveniently heading toward the backyard. As she walked, she suddenly saw a little yellow duck wobbling toward her.
She was startled at first — then heard a child’s voice approaching too.
Kindly, she bent down, grabbed the runaway duck, and held it in her palm.
Standing upright again with a smile, she lifted her head — and froze.
Wen Shuchen’s son wasn’t wearing shoes, his chubby pale little feet dangling in the air because a tall, silent man was holding him in his arms as he walked over. The man wasn’t wearing his suit jacket; his shirt and the hems of his dress pants were slightly wet — he’d likely been playing near the pool.
“Auntie, that’s my duck!”
The child’s sweet voice snapped Qu Bixin out of her daze.
She put the duck down and avoided getting any closer to the man.
This tiny avoidance made Shen Fu raise his eyes and look at her.
Qu Bixin kept a perfectly serious expression and stayed still. She wore a high-waisted red mini skirt that suited her complexion, showing off her slim waist and long pale legs.
Noticing the man’s gaze lingering a bit too long, Qu Bixin wanted to curse him for being shameless — but not in front of a child. So she kept a fake smile on her face and walked toward the restroom without a word.
As she disappeared, the child blinked and said, puzzled, “Little Daddy, I think that Auntie doesn’t like men.”
Shen Fu’s gentle smile returned. Looking at the little one in his arms, even his voice softened: “Oh? And how did you figure that out?”
“Because she said I’m a little ugly clown. And when she saw you, she made a dark face.” The child pointed at his own cheek with his tiny finger. Great-grandma had said he looked like Daddy — so how could he be an ugly clown!
This auntie doesn’t like men, and her eyesight isn’t good either.
Shen Fu carried the child back to the sofa and sat him down, first wiping his little feet dry and putting his shoes on. Unhurriedly, he said, “Then I’ll go ask her whether she really doesn’t like men, just like you say.”
The little one half-understood, sitting there like a plump, obedient dumpling, still hugging his little yellow duck.
Shen Fu let him stay put for a moment, then got up and left the living room.
Water splashed for a few seconds, then stopped.
Qu Bixin stood before the mirror touching up her makeup. She reapplied her rosy lipstick and tossed the used tissue into the trash.
After calming herself for a minute or two, she felt the waves of emotion caused by Shen Fu finally settle. At the same time, she cursed herself for being pathetic. She reminded herself not to think about this man anymore—whether he lived or died had stopped having anything to do with Qu Bixin four years ago.
After finishing her internal pep talk, she opened the bathroom door to leave, planning to find He Qingchi and settle the score.
That woman was too unreliable—she didn’t even bother to clarify that Shen Fu was here.
But the moment she opened the door, she nearly jumped in fright.
Shen Fu, taller than her, blocked her way effortlessly.
Qu Bixin froze completely, then her expression twisted in annoyance: “Are you a pervert? Even listening in on women using the bathroom?”
It had been some time since the last time they parted.
They hadn’t separated on good terms at all—there was no pretending nothing had happened.
Shen Fu pushed her back into the bathroom with one hand, reaching to close the door.
A bad feeling shot through Qu Bixin. She instinctively tried to leave: “This isn’t your turf, Shen Fu!”
“Even if you call Wen Shuchen here, who do you think he’d side with?” Shen Fu’s tone remained as nasty as ever. The bathroom door slammed shut behind them, the lock clicked, and his tall figure stood blocking her path.
Qu Bixin kept a stiff face, speaking coldly, “If your ears have gone deaf or your brain’s aging early and you can’t remember things, I don’t mind repeating what I said last time. Shen Fu, I’m not interested in being stuck between you and Shen Tingji. Either choose me, or choose her!”
Shen Fu stared at her with shadowed eyes, saying nothing.
Qu Bixin continued, letting out a mocking laugh: “You want to have both in your arms? At least see whether I or Shen Tingji agree first.”
She absolutely refused to get involved with Shen Fu again—what if Shen Tingji suddenly came ‘checking up’?
She wasn’t some stray cat he kept on the side. Why make herself that cheap?
Breathing the same air as him already felt suffocating. She shoved his arm, trying to get past him.
Shen Fu’s grip was strong. He seized her wrist and effortlessly lifted her onto the bathroom counter.
He made it very clear with actions that he had no intention of letting this go. His hand slid along her narrow shoulder, down toward her shoulder blades, seeming ready to lift her skirt—only to be stopped by Qu Bixin’s furious resistance. As if she would let something like this happen in He Qingchi’s house.
“Don’t think staying silent will fool your way through—”
These past few years, whether abroad for a long stay or living in Jiangcheng, he always brought Shen Tingji. He bought villas and hired special maids to wait on her daily needs.
But as for Qu Bixin, he left her on “free-range mode,” not caring at all.
The comparison left her feeling utterly discarded.
She struggled, digging her nails into his collar and scratching hard, leaving marks that even bled a little.
Shen Fu didn’t even flinch. Lowering his lashes, he caught her chin and kissed her.
Qu Bixin nearly slapped that face she’d once been obsessed with for years. She was so angry she could barely breathe. Shen Fu, on the other hand, looked calm, meeting her gaze as he said: “Looks like you still haven’t learned. Want to be Mrs. Shen again?”
So close to him, she could hear every breath, every word clearly. Qu Bixin stiffened, staring at his face without speaking.
Not because she was swayed by his looks—but because his words had humiliated her.
Holding back the redness at the corner of her eyes, she forced a stiff smile: “Who says I’m dying to be Mrs. Shen? Shen Fu… you’re unbelievably full of yourself.”
So full of himself she didn’t even know where to begin cursing. Gritting her teeth, she added, “Even if I don’t become your wife, stop treating me like I’m your woman.”
Seeing her = touching her? As if things were that easy?
Shen Fu looked at her tearful face and still pressed on, “Name one time I touched you for free.”
Every time they slept together, he transferred money to her afterward.
Amounts large enough for her to live like a rich lady. And when she saw the money in the account, all she could think was how he used it to draw a clean, cold boundary between them.
And he had the nerve to bring it up?
Shen Fu pushed her back into the bathroom with one hand, reaching to close the door.
A bad feeling shot through Qu Bixin. She instinctively tried to leave: “This isn’t your turf, Shen Fu!”
“Even if you call Wen Shuchen here, who do you think he’d side with?” Shen Fu’s tone remained as nasty as ever. The bathroom door slammed shut behind them, the lock clicked, and his tall figure stood blocking her path.
Qu Bixin kept a stiff face, speaking coldly, “If your ears have gone deaf or your brain’s aging early and you can’t remember things, I don’t mind repeating what I said last time. Shen Fu, I’m not interested in being stuck between you and Shen Tingji. Either choose me, or choose her!”
Shen Fu stared at her with shadowed eyes, saying nothing.
Qu Bixin continued, letting out a mocking laugh: “You want to have both in your arms? At least see whether I or Shen Tingji agree first.”
She absolutely refused to get involved with Shen Fu again—what if Shen Tingji suddenly came ‘checking up’?
She wasn’t some stray cat he kept on the side. Why make herself that cheap?
Breathing the same air as him already felt suffocating. She shoved his arm, trying to get past him.
Shen Fu’s grip was strong. He seized her wrist and effortlessly lifted her onto the bathroom counter.
He made it very clear with actions that he had no intention of letting this go. His hand slid along her narrow shoulder, down toward her shoulder blades, seeming ready to lift her skirt—only to be stopped by Qu Bixin’s furious resistance. As if she would let something like this happen in He Qingchi’s house.
“Don’t think staying silent will fool your way through—”
These past few years, whether abroad for a long stay or living in Jiangcheng, he always brought Shen Tingji. He bought villas and hired special maids to wait on her daily needs.
But as for Qu Bixin, he left her on “free-range mode,” not caring at all.
The comparison left her feeling utterly discarded.
She struggled, digging her nails into his collar and scratching hard, leaving marks that even bled a little.
Shen Fu didn’t even flinch. Lowering his lashes, he caught her chin and kissed her.
Qu Bixin nearly slapped that face she’d once been obsessed with for years. She was so angry she could barely breathe. Shen Fu, on the other hand, looked calm, meeting her gaze as he said: “Looks like you still haven’t learned. Want to be Mrs. Shen again?”
So close to him, she could hear every breath, every word clearly. Qu Bixin stiffened, staring at his face without speaking.
Not because she was swayed by his looks—but because his words had humiliated her.
Holding back the redness at the corner of her eyes, she forced a stiff smile: “Who says I’m dying to be Mrs. Shen? Shen Fu… you’re unbelievably full of yourself.”
So full of himself she didn’t even know where to begin cursing. Gritting her teeth, she added, “Even if I don’t become your wife, stop treating me like I’m your woman.”
Seeing her = touching her? As if things were that easy?
Shen Fu looked at her tearful face and still pressed on, “Name one time I touched you for free.”
Every time they slept together, he transferred money to her afterward.
Amounts large enough for her to live like a rich lady. And when she saw the money in the account, all she could think was how he used it to draw a clean, cold boundary between them.
And he had the nerve to bring it up?
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