Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 134 - The Man’s Lewd and Predatory Words
This old Western-style house looked quite aged. On the second floor, aside from the master bedroom and the study, all the other guest rooms had their doors sealed shut. Shen Fu, in his current state, appeared far more relaxed and languid than before. His long legs were slightly parted as he sat openly on the edge of the bed, expression ordinary, watching her walk in with clear reluctance written on her face.
Qu Bixin couldn’t be bothered to keep pretending. She kicked off her high heels, stripped off her dress, and lay straight down on the bed.
She closed her eyes as if resigning herself to fate.
Shen Fu’s gaze was restrained, sweeping over the woman’s graceful, well-proportioned figure, yet he made no move.
The master bedroom fell into a suffocating silence. After a while, Qu Bixin, still with her eyes closed, said, “Isn’t this what you want? The sooner we finish, the sooner I can leave this damn place.”
After realizing the doors wouldn’t open and the rooms were sealed—
She had simply thrown herself onto the bed in self-abandonment, acting as though her innocence meant nothing.
Shen Fu remained motionless for a long time, not touching even a single finger of hers.
After lying there for a while, she felt a little cold and opened her eyes again.
She caught the restrained emotion in his gaze—perhaps she had crossed some unspoken line.
It was almost laughable.
Slowly, she sat up, drawing her knees close and gathering her hair with one hand. “Are you some kind of psychopath? Do you like hearing me scream for help so it stirs up that pathetic male possessiveness in you—so you can only feel satisfied after claiming me?”
If not for her mocking tone, the scene in the master bedroom would have been deeply intimate.
He hadn’t put his shirt back on after rebandaging his wound, and her white dress lay discarded at the foot of the bed. She wore only a black lace set, her curves clearly defined—yet it seemed to stir no desire in him at all.
Shen Fu’s composure was as steady as it had been years ago. His gaze didn’t waver as he pulled the blanket over and covered her head.
Just as Qu Bixin was about to flare up, she heard him say in a low, indifferent tone, “I’m not particularly interested in your figure.”
“…Damn it!”
She yanked the blanket off her head, furious.
Not interested? Then why had he slept with her again and again?
Shen Fu looked at her calmly. “You won’t even spare an injured man. Who’s at a disadvantage here?”
His shameless words left her speechless. The cold expression she had painstakingly maintained cracked, and she hurled a white pillow at him. “Go to hell!”
9:30 p.m.
The entire house was silent, upstairs and down. The master bedroom was lit by a single lamp. After showering, Qu Bixin opened the wardrobe. Inside were clothes all in her size—proof of the man’s deliberate scheming.
She took out a deep red nightgown. The fabric was silky smooth to the touch and clearly expensive.
Back when they were together, her style had been sweet and innocent, her wardrobe mostly white. After wandering off course for a few years and divorcing, she had suddenly woken up and begun dressing in the style she truly liked.
The clothes Shen Fu prepared matched her aesthetic perfectly.
Each piece carried a subtle sensuality with mature femininity.
After putting on the nightgown, she stepped back into the room and saw an expensive set of jewelry laid out on the coffee table, the gems nearly blinding in their brilliance.
“So this is the jewelry that bastard Qu Yanming used to trick me here?”
She glanced at the man standing by the window, brushing her fingertip lightly over the jewels.
No woman disliked glittering things; just looking at them improved her mood.
Seeing her like them, Shen Fu replied, “They’re for you.”
She picked up the jewelry, examined it for a moment, then put it back. When Shen Fu’s career had first taken off, he used to buy her luxury goods and jewelry often. Back then, she felt sweet and hopeful about the future. Now, things had changed. She was no longer that naive girl.
She sat on the sofa, tucking her slender pale legs beneath the nightgown, looking at his cool profile. “You’re nursing your injury. What’s the point of locking me up here with you?”
Shen Fu didn’t answer that. When he walked over, she didn’t instinctively guard against him—until his hand grasped her smooth calf, lifting her clean off the sofa.
He didn’t look like an injured patient at all, carrying her to the bed with effortless ease.
Qu Bixin was forced to lie inside. He turned off the light and lay down beside her.
Shen Fu did nothing, closing his eyes as if ready to sleep.
He might be able to sleep, but she couldn’t. She tossed and turned on the large bed. It wasn’t the first time she had slept beside him—but it was the first time she felt such insomnia. Only in the latter half of the night did drowsiness finally creep in. Just as she was about to fall asleep, a phone rang.
It was in the drawer—Shen Fu’s phone.
Qu Bixin climbed out from under the covers and went to retrieve it.
The glow of the screen illuminated her bare face. The caller ID showed it was his secretary.
After a second or two, the call ended on its own.
While Shen Fu was still asleep, she narrowed her beautiful eyes, thought for a moment, then quietly slipped out of the room.
Not even bothering to put on her shoes properly, she dialed He Qingchi’s number.
Downstairs, the living room was dark in the middle of the night. By the time she reached the sofa, the call connected.
She didn’t give the other side a chance to speak, blurting out in one breath, “That bastard Shen Fu has kidnaped me. The address is—”
After giving the address, she added, “Come pick me up!”
“Qingchi’s already asleep.” A warm, pleasant male voice came from the other end, instantly rendering Qu Bixin speechless.
It was Wen Shuchen. He seemed concerned. “Do you need me to call the police?”
“No need, President Wen. Thank you.” She hung up politely, her face immediately falling.
She didn’t want to end up in the news. Besides, Wen Shuchen and Shen Fu were in the same circle—how could he be so kind?
After that call, she started calling her so-called “superficial” girlfriends.
The result was even worse. At least Wen Shuchen had asked about calling the police. Her friends either didn’t answer or defended Shen Fu when they did, as if they’d received some benefit behind her back.
Furious, Qu Bixin hurled the phone against the wall.
The noise was impossible not to wake the man upstairs. When Shen Fu appeared leisurely in his bathrobe, she wasn’t surprised, looking at him numbly.
“What exactly do you want?”
He had bought off everyone around her—including her heartless brother.
And yet he wouldn’t say anything clearly. What was the meaning of this half-spoken game?
Qu Bixin’s patience was thin. A faint mist gathered in her eyes. “You’ve already taken my money, my feelings, even my body. What else do you want?”
“Are we enemies from a past life or something? Even an execution has an ending. When are you going to stop?” She was so angry her words came out in a rush. When Shen Fu approached, she grabbed his bathrobe tightly.
Shen Fu calmly pried her slender fingers away and asked without emotion, “You dislike me that much?”
“I don’t want to play this game with you anymore,” she said flatly.
She had already made her boundaries clear—between her and Shen Tingji, he could only choose one.
If it meant being endlessly trapped in the nightmare of him and that woman, she would rather let go. She had endured enough of Shen Fu over the years.
But Shen Fu didn’t think the same way. His hand gripped her wrist bones tightly, pulling her easily into his arms.
Her sharp little chin was seized, forcing her to look straight at him.
“Not play with me?”
He repeated her words twice, a cold smile on his lips. “Who was the one who drugged me first back then, demanding that I accompany her in a hotel?”
The grip hurt; she frowned.
He tightened it deliberately, wanting to see her eyes brim with tears. His voice grew darker. “I let you go once. You were the one who chose to keep clinging to me.”
So he wouldn’t let go anymore.
He pressed her down onto the carpet; her slight strength couldn’t resist his force.
He tore open her nightgown, the fabric barely hanging between the sofa and coffee table. When she cried out in pain, he restrained himself again, kissing her lightly, murmuring, “Even if I crawled up from the bottom and am filthy, I’m still your man.”
Her cheek pressed against the carpet, black hair disheveled, eyes wide open, refusing to respond to him verbally.
Afterward—
Shen Fu wrapped her in his dark robe. The night air was cold; her body temperature wouldn’t rise, her fingertips icy.
The bandage on his abdomen had been stained red again, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain, personally tidying up the disordered living room. When he turned around, he saw Qu Bixin sitting up, clutching the tissue box from the coffee table. She pulled out several sheets and wiped the places he had touched as though they were filthy, rubbing so hard her pale skin nearly chafed raw.
Shen Fu’s face darkened instantly. Qu Bixin lifted her head, her dark eyes fixed on him. “I once struggled over how I’d persuade my dad to accept you again if we remarried. Wasn’t I especially stupid?”
During the time they had resumed their physical relationship, their feelings had indeed shifted.
He had felt more vivid and real than during their engagement or marriage. Perhaps because she had gained his body, he no longer felt distant and untouchable.
So she had once imagined remarriage. But after seeing that Shen Fu still placed Shen Tingji first, she abandoned that thought entirely.
In this lifetime—
He would sleep with her, seek her out when lonely, but he would never place her at the very top of his heart.
Her fingers stiffened as she pulled the robe tighter around herself. Lowering her head, she could clearly smell his distinct scent, which drained the color from her already pale face. After a long silence in the deathly quiet living room, her voice rang out again: “If there’s no Xiao Cen, there’ll be thousands more men with the surname Xiao. If you’ve got the guts, kill them all.”
Shen Fu held his posture unchanged, meeting her stubborn, tear-filled gaze.
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