Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 133 - When She Scolds Shen Fu, It’s as Effortless as Having a Daily Meal
The time it takes to drink a cup of tea. Qu Bixin lay crooked on the genuine leather sofa with her eyes closed, her knees curled beneath the hem of her skirt, as if she had fallen into a deep sleep. She never got to see the “boss” the young secretary had mentioned. For quite a while, the living room was utterly silent—someone had even shut the door.
Until, from upstairs, a tall, long-legged figure descended, faintly illuminated by the wall lamps, walking down the stairs to stand before the woman.
Qu Bixin’s head rested against the armrest. Her shoulder-length hair spilled down, making her already delicate, petite features appear even more refined and three-dimensional—hard to find any flaw. She wasn’t the kind of beauty that stunned at first glance, but the more you looked, the more captivating she became.
It had been a long time since he’d seen her dressed like the girl next door. Under the warm light, she looked especially soft and gentle. The man casually sat down on the carpet and gazed at her quietly for several minutes before lifting the teacup beside her.
A faint red lipstick mark still lingered on the rim of the celadon cup. His fingertip rubbed over it absentmindedly. Among the tea leaves at the bottom were crushed white traces of medicine, already dissolving completely in the water.
Expressionless, he poured the half cup of tea into the thick, expensive carpet.
The clock on the wall ticked on. Outside, it had turned dark at some unknown point, though the heavy curtains blocked the view. Qu Bixin slowly stirred awake, opening her eyes in a daze, wondering how she had fallen asleep.
She sat up, looking around at the quiet, brightly lit surroundings in confusion, when she suddenly caught the scent of food.
Feeling even more puzzled, she followed the smell toward the kitchen. After a moment, she saw the familiar back of a man cooking dinner. Dressed in a light beige home shirt and trousers, he gave off a comfortable, domestic air.
But the moment she saw his face clearly, she instantly wanted to retract that impression.
“Shen Fu?”
The name slipped from her lips, and the atmosphere seemed to freeze.
For a split second, Qu Bixin wondered if she was still muddled from sleep. How could the owner of this old Western-style house be Shen Fu? Then it hit her—Qu Yanming, that damn bastard, must have sold his own sister for personal gain.
Realizing this, Qu Bixin stiffened her face and turned to head for the front door.
Shen Fu calmly placed the finished dishes on the table, making no move to stop her.
When Qu Bixin reached the door, she found it wouldn’t open. It had been locked from the outside and required a key.
Her fingers touched the cold handle and slowly tightened.
Shen Fu’s gaze swept lightly over her lowered head. “Come eat.”
She had been in a deep sleep for so long—she must be hungry.
Qu Bixin wasn’t stubborn in the traditional sense. She was perceptive and adaptable—plainly put, she knew when to yield and when to stand firm. She wouldn’t ruin herself just to win a moment of pride.
Shen Fu was certain she would come back to eat. He was already seated at the dining table, waiting.
She stood at the door for less than a minute before walking back with a cold expression.
With a sharp scrape, she pulled out a chair, making a loud noise.
Clearly angered, she glared at Shen Fu. “You and Qu Yanming are a pair of natural-born bastards.”
She had never cursed in front of Shen Fu before. Even her laughter used to be sweet and girlish.
Now, scolding him came as easily as eating a daily meal.
Shen Fu personally ladled her a bowl of chicken soup, his voice low and indifferent. “If I were you, I’d keep quiet on a man’s territory.”
She heard the threat in his words. Her anger hadn’t subsided—she wanted to throw the bowl of soup in his face.
Before she could act, Shen Fu sensed her intention. His hand paused, and he withdrew the bowl. “Drink it when it cools.”
Seeing how quickly he reacted, she sneered. “I haven’t even settled accounts with you yet, and you’re playing this game?”
Shen Fu had already seen those text messages. His expression didn’t change. “Xiao Cen doesn’t truly love you. He’s after your money.”
Qu Bixin smiled faintly, as though hearing a joke, and looked at the man who had the nerve to say such a thing. “What gives you the right to look down on Xiao Cen? He’s after my money? Weren’t you the same before?”
Shen Fu didn’t look down on Xiao Cen—he just found him displeasing.
In Qu Bixin’s eyes, there was no difference.
She picked through the dinner Shen Fu had cooked with her chopsticks, speaking slowly and deliberately to irritate him.
“Xiao Cen is ten thousand times better than you. At least he has professional ethics. Once he takes the money, he knows how to make me happy.”
Shen Fu seemed to automatically filter out her words. He picked up the slices of carrot she had discarded and said, “The fish is very fresh today.”
She talked about Xiao Cen; he talked about the dishes.
The fish was indeed fresh, but she never had the habit of picking out fish bones.
Having lived with her for years, Shen Fu knew her pampered habits well. He carefully removed the bones before placing the fish on a small plate and slowly pushing it toward her with his long fingers.
Only when the food was right in front of her did she deign to eat.
She lowered her head and continued eating, but the fish tasted bland.
Perhaps watching Shen Fu remove the bones made her throat feel slightly sour.
After divorcing him, no one picked out fish bones for her anymore. She rarely ate fish. Others didn’t know about her delicate habit and assumed she simply didn’t like fish, so even at the Qu family home, the dish was made less often.
Shen Fu knew her inside and out. Even this table of food suited her taste perfectly.
When she was about seventy percent full, she set down her chopsticks and lifted her delicate chin. “You went through all this trouble just to serve me a meal?”
Shen Fu set down his chopsticks as well. He had eaten even less than she had—whether from injury or lack of appetite, it was unclear.
After taking a sip of tea, he said, “I’m injured.”
She took two seconds to react. “It’s not like I hired someone to beat you.”
She had only sent dozens of angry text messages after learning about Xiao Cen’s hints—she hadn’t taken real action.
Looking closer, his face did seem pale, his lips faint in color.
He took another sip of tea and lifted his shirt to reveal the medical bandage wrapped around his abdomen, faint red blood seeping through. Her eyes shrank slightly, her doll-like voice faltering with a hint of tension. “Did you use that face of yours to seduce some married woman and get stabbed by her husband?”
Shen Fu’s gaze darkened. He looked at her without speaking.
Qu Bixin forced a light laugh. “Whether it’s a personal grudge or revenge, it has nothing to do with me, right?”
“Your brother accepted my favor and lent you to me for a few days,” Shen Fu reminded her calmly of the situation. He would be recuperating in this suburban old house, and Qu Bixin’s role had become his diversion.
He said it so matter-of-factly that she nearly jumped up to hit him. “Why doesn’t Qu Yanming send his own wife to keep you company?”
Since when did that damn bastard get to decide her affairs?
Shen Fu leaned back lazily in his chair. “You’d better not anger me. Pray that I recover quickly—then you might leave sooner.”
Qu Bixin ignored his nonsense and headed for the door again.
The house was completely locked. Kicking it with her high heels didn’t budge it. She went to the window, only to discover it had been nailed shut with wooden boards, leaving narrow slits for light. No wonder heavy curtains covered them.
Seeing this, her temples began to throb.
Shen Fu remained seated, quietly watching her struggle, his deep gaze unreadable.
When she turned around, he had already masked his expression, returning to his usual indifference.
She stormed back. “Why lock both of us in this old house? Are you a psychopath?”
Shen Fu filtered out her words again and pointed at the leftover dishes. “You wash the dishes.”
Her eyes widened. He added reasonably, “I cook, you wash. Fair.”
Fair my ass.
She went back to the living room, seemingly looking for her phone.
It had already shut off automatically. The battery had died at some unknown point.
Now she truly couldn’t call for help—trapped in this dark place with no way out.
Shen Fu kindly reminded her, “If you don’t wash the dishes, no one will cook for you next time.”
“…”
Standing by the sofa, phone still in hand, she watched the man head upstairs.
He wasn’t worried she’d disappear. Annoyingly confident.
The living room lights remained glaringly bright, hurting her eyes.
After standing there for a long time, she finally returned to the dining room. A moment later, the leftovers and dishes were all thrown into the trash.
Upstairs, the master bedroom door was open.
Shen Fu sat on the edge of the bed. An emergency medical kit rested nearby. He had replaced the white bandage; his home clothes were already off, revealing a firm chest and defined abs.
When Qu Bixin entered with a frown, she was greeted by the sight of this handsome display.
He tossed the bloodied bandage into the trash and wiped his long fingers slowly with a tissue.
The room was quiet for a long while until she asked, “Who hurt you?”
This time, her tone was serious, free of mockery.
Shen Fu folded the tissue neatly and threw it away. His voice was calm. “Wen Yue’s people.”
“Wasn’t he already ousted by Wen Shuchen?” she asked in surprise.
A faint smile curved Shen Fu’s lips. A man who rarely smiled looked exceptionally handsome when he did, momentarily stealing her focus. “I played a part in getting Wen Yue pushed out. Do you think he’d let me off easily?”
Qu Bixin thought he should’ve captured Wen Yue and locked him in this old house instead. Why lock her up?
As if reading her thoughts, Shen Fu patted the bed beside him with his attractive hand. “Tonight, you’ll sleep with me—”
“On what grounds?!”
She instinctively stepped back, nearly twisting her ankle in her high heels, bracing herself against the door as she looked at him warily.
He was barely even mobile right now. She could beat him to death if she wanted.
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