Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 125 - Karmic Retribution
When He Qingchi’s pale fingertips were wrapped in the man’s palm, the icy chill slowly warmed. She was almost dazed; even though they had been back at the villa for nearly three hours, she still felt shaken by Fei Ying’s forced medical abortion.
Night had already fallen outside the window. The study was lit, and even footsteps in the corridor had grown softer.
He Qingchi took the initiative to nestle into Wen Shuchen’s arms, her cheek pressed against his chest. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could hear his steady heartbeat, and only then did she feel a trace of reassurance. Lowering her lashes, she said softly, “I know the child might have been deformed, but the way Aunt handled it… it really makes one feel…”
She couldn’t even find the right word and trailed off.
Wen Shuchen’s handsome face remained unusually calm, as if he had long expected this outcome. His voice was gentle as he soothed her, his fingertips lightly tracing along her knuckles, moving upward from her cold fingers.
Every movement of his seemed to tug softly at her heart.
He Qingchi adjusted her thoughts again and again, yet was gradually drawn in by the man before her.
Wen Shuchen first brushed his lips lightly against her ear, speaking in a low, comforting tone. Then he stood up and brought out a chessboard.
He placed it on the thick, soft carpet and pulled He Qingchi down to sit with him. She wore an elegant pale-green cheongsam; because the fabric clung closely, her sitting posture wasn’t as relaxed as his in shirt and trousers. The side slit of her dress faintly revealed her snow-white legs, her figure indescribably perfect.
Wen Shuchen’s gaze lingered on her for a few seconds but did not stay long.
She was already his—there was no need to rush.
With his cool, slender hands, he arranged the board, the alternating dark and light squares forming a neat pattern. After a moment, he looked up quietly and asked, “Do you know how to play?”
He Qingchi glanced at the black chess piece in his hand—the carved knight.
She knew a little, so she told him so beforehand.
He appeared even more modest, smiling gently. “I know just a little too.”
She didn’t quite believe him. During the game, she clearly sensed that he was deliberately yielding to her, as if trying to make her happy. Gradually, all her attention was drawn to the man before her—the one smiling warmly, treating her with such careful tenderness.
She won the first round without doubt. Wen Shuchen was adept at praising her intelligence, never repeating his compliments.
He was eloquent; even if his words weren’t entirely sincere, he never made it awkward. He Qingchi’s mood seemed to settle, a faint smile appearing on her lips.
Seeing her smile, the way Wen Shuchen gazed at her was filled with water-like gentleness.
He set up the board again and said quietly, “Being able to see you smile makes me feel lucky.”
The affection woven into his words warmed her chest. Her dark eyes met his, and she could no longer avoid her feelings for this man.
Being able to sit here, listening to him go to such lengths to cheer her up, was another kind of luck.
These past four years, He Qingchi’s life had been pale and empty. Only by Wen Shuchen’s side did she feel fulfilled again, with something to look forward to.
His long fingers brushed away the strands of hair by her ear. The skin of her profile was like fine white porcelain, flawless. His fingertips lingered with subtle testing as he leaned closer.
He Qingchi felt as if she were frozen in place. Suddenly, her lips were weighed down.
She heard the soft clatter of the chessboard being knocked askew near her ear. Through her hazy vision, she could only see the collar of his shirt, slightly revealing his handsome Adam’s apple, and above it, his clean-shaven jaw.
Slowly closing her eyes, she hooked her arms around his neck. Her overly fair fingertips slipped down along his collar, searching for the familiar abdominal lines she remembered from the past. It was almost instinctive—she hadn’t expected much, yet she truly felt them.
They weren’t very defined, but it still surprised her.
Wen Shuchen pressed his forehead against hers. Seeing the surprise in her eyes, the smile on his lips deepened. His gentle voice turned husky. “Give me another two months—I’ll have eight-pack abs again.”
Before, his health had been so poor that he’d grown painfully thin, bones almost palpable.
Now that he was recovering, he had resumed exercising. With her by his side, he could sleep well at night, too.
He Qingchi curved her lips, knowing full well who he was training for. A sudden warmth rose in her heart. “No need to rush.”
Wen Shuchen had long noticed that whenever she kissed him, she would habitually try to unbutton his shirt and slip her hand inside to feel for abs that no longer existed. It had happened once or twice—how could he not hurry a little?
It was a habit formed years ago.
Better not change it now.
Over the next few days, rain fell steadily. On the weekend, around three in the afternoon, several black luxury cars were parked outside the Wen residence. A group of people escorted an elderly man inside, and bodyguards were stationed at the entrance.
They were ushered to an upstairs side hall to sit.
Before Wen Shuchen arrived, the guests spoke in low voices about his purpose this time, ending with faint sighs.
About half an hour later, another understated luxury car pulled up outside.
Song Chao stepped out from the passenger seat first, then hurried to open the rear door.
The rain had just stopped, leaving the ground wet.
Wen Shuchen personally held a black umbrella, standing tall in his tailored suit beside the car, extending his long hand inside. After a moment, He Qingchi stepped out, wearing a black embroidered cheongsam. The heavy color did not diminish her beauty; instead, it made her snow-white skin stand out even more, adding a calm, refined elegance.
Sheltered beneath the umbrella and protected by Wen Shuchen, she walked into the old house surrounded by bodyguards.
The atmosphere this time was unusually solemn. Everyone else was quiet or speaking in hushed tones.
The men discussing matters were invited upstairs to the side hall, while the women remained in the living room, drinking tea and chatting softly, attended by bodyguards serving them.
He Qingchi didn’t follow them upstairs. Whether she was present or not didn’t matter, and she had no intention of staying in the living room to ingratiate herself with the elders of the Wen family.
She stood beneath the veranda for a while, quietly listening to the rain. The sky had begun to drizzle again, fine and chilly. Though the vast courtyard had regained its usual bustle today, it was nothing more than a fleeting burst of fireworks. Soon enough, it would grow deserted again—not even a cat in sight.
Even so, Wen Shuchen had no intention of moving back to live here. Perhaps the old house did not hold very pleasant memories for him.
He Qingchi turned her head slightly and could hear several elders in the living room subtly sizing her up, whispering among themselves.
Some said she was fortunate—she knew how to choose a husband.
Now she didn’t even have a proper mother-in-law to answer to, let alone someone like Qiu Jin, whose status had never been legitimate. In the Wen family, she had no one to serve dutifully. Even toward these aunts, she could remain distant—at most offering the courtesy due from a junior when they crossed paths.
In the end, their complaints were simply resentment that He Qingchi did not try to be close to them.
After listening for about ten minutes and growing tired of watching the rain, she turned and went upstairs.
No one in the entire old house would stop her, not even the bodyguards stationed by the staircase.
She deliberately lightened her footsteps, not wishing to disturb the discussion in the side hall. Wandering down the corridor in boredom, her slender figure paused behind a large vase near the entrance to the side hall. From that angle, she could clearly see three elderly men and two middle-aged men seated inside.
Wen Shuchen was calmly handing out the prepared documents to each of them.
He had gathered the family elders with influence and laid out, one by one, the ways Wen Yue had harmed the family’s interests over the past four years. His stance was clear: whatever he chose to do next would not be out of brotherly malice, and no one would have reason to defend Wen Yue anymore.
As the head of the Wen family, the elders valued his character even more than his business acumen.
If he could show ruthless disregard toward his own family without cause, it would naturally unsettle them.
Wen Shuchen always made sure he stood on solid moral ground. Back then, Qiu Jin had paid for her own actions with her life. Wen Yue had not known of it beforehand, so in front of the elders, Wen Shuchen had not placed that blame on him.
But in the four years since, Wen Yue had taken advantage of Wen Jingchun’s death to maneuver against him, rallying factions and fighting for power within the family. Such rivalry over inheritance was beyond the elders’ interference, though they knew well that Wen Shuchen would eventually settle the score.
Now that the facts were laid bare, they could no longer shield anyone with old excuses.
An elder seated closest to Wen Shuchen sighed deeply. “Wen Yue has truly gone too far these past years.”
Once one spoke, others followed. “Qiu Jin’s death back then wasn’t anyone else’s fault.”
Wen Shuchen sipped his tea calmly, as though the matter did not concern him.
But He Qingchi saw clearly—Qiu Jin’s affair had hurt Wen Shuchen the most. He had endured patiently, spending four years to openly inform the elders of the family—
Even if you know I am acting for personal grievances, you can no longer accuse me of fratricide.
He wanted both victory and the moral high ground in the eyes of the world.
He Qingchi’s slender black figure quietly stepped away from the vase. She turned to go downstairs, only to find someone standing behind her.
In just a few days, Aunt had grown much more haggard, dark circles beneath her eyes showing restless nights.
He Qingchi had once thought this aunt gentle in appearance. But after seeing her use a bowl of medicine to terminate Fei Ying’s pregnancy, she understood the woman was ruthless. Maintaining a neutral expression, she gave a slight nod in greeting.
Knowing He Qingchi had overheard the conversation, Aunt said as they brushed past each other, her tone layered with complicated emotion, “The family is completely disappointed in Wen Yue now.”
“It’s simply karma,” He Qingchi replied calmly, her red lips forming the words.
If Qiu Jin hadn’t committed her own malicious deeds—if Wen Jingchun hadn’t spent years supporting Wen Yue, the illegitimate son, and even dealt Wen Shuchen a blow before his death—Wen Yue might not have disregarded the family’s interests in his desire for revenge.
So she felt no sympathy for the man. With that, she said no more and walked downstairs.
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