Marry by Relying on Favor: Chapter 140 - She’s a Little Princess—Just Bored and Trying Out a Taste of Commoner Hardship. She would Never Fall in Love with a Pauper Like You
Eight years ago, Qu Bixin and Shen Fu also had a period of sweet cohabitation. She had excelled in every aspect since childhood. In front of elders, she knew how to act and perform, perfectly crafting the image of a well-behaved girl next door. Later, when she became infatuated with Shen Fu, outsiders simply thought that a little princess who had never known hardship had fallen for a poor, aloof boy in a white shirt—purely because she’d been deceived.
But no one knew that she had been willing to be deceived.
Back then, she and Shen Fu rented a two-bedroom apartment. She attended classes during the day, and at night, when she returned home, no matter how busy Shen Fu was with his startup, he would personally prepare her a late-night snack.
Shen Fu was a good cook—probably a skill cultivated from fending for himself since childhood. To save money, they didn’t hire a housekeeper; he handled all the housework. Even her socks were washed by him.
Qu Bixin had been used to extravagance. After moving in together, she gave him all her money for his business and gradually realized that the life of a wealthy young lady was truly gone. Later, when Shen Fu’s company began to achieve some success, he grew busier and busier.
Qu Bixin also felt sorry for her man and began taking the initiative to handle things at home—but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t master cooking.
She remembered once crying until her eyes were red because she couldn’t cook a proper late-night snack. When Shen Fu returned late and opened the apartment door, the living room lights were off, with only the kitchen light on.
She was wearing a pure white cotton nightgown, squatting lightly as she wiped the floor with a rag, tears dripping down one after another.
Seeing the failed dish in the trash can, Shen Fu immediately understood what had happened.
He walked over and, for the first time, lifted her from the kitchen floor. He didn’t let go once, carrying her to the sofa and coaxing her for a long time. Feeling defeated, Qu Bixin tugged at his tie with fingers so cold they had turned pale. “A-Fu, will you stop wanting me someday? I can’t even cook egg drop soup properly.”
Her almond-shaped eyes were filled with grievance, faintly shimmering with tears, and they looked straight into his heart.
Shen Fu used tissues to wipe her face clean and answered softly, “I don’t like egg drop soup. I prefer the rice porridge you make.”
It sounded like comfort, yet he didn’t directly answer the first half of her question.
After a pause, he added, “You’re already amazing.”
Qu Bixin’s temper was childlike and easy to soothe. In the blink of an eye, she smiled happily and wrapped her arms around his waist, not minding the smell of alcohol on his shirt. In a voice as soft as a mosquito’s, she said, “Then I’ll cook porridge for you every night. I’ll cook it well.”
She loved this man wholeheartedly, wanting to give him everything she had—though she also had her own little calculations.
The following year, Qu Bixin openly used her connections to enter Shen Fu’s company as an intern.
Shen Fu had two assistants: an experienced male secretary—and her.
To prevent other women from bothering him, and also to get closer to him, she chose to work by his side.
Shen Fu, young as he was, had already achieved success with a single investment. The more outstanding he became, the more Qu Bixin—despite living with him every day—felt an inexplicable emptiness, as if she could never truly see through him.
So she chose to fight alongside him, staying at the company together.
Her major couldn’t help him much. She could only act like an ordinary female secretary, working overtime with him day after day, traveling to different cities.
Sometimes she would see him sitting alone in his office, only one light left on. Still dressed in a white shirt, his figure half swallowed by shadows, head lowered, rolling documents in his hands, lost in thought. Watching him from outside the door, she would inexplicably feel that he was lonely.
Whether it was an illusion or whether his world truly was lonely.
Qu Bixin felt heartbroken for him. After he succeeded in his business and used the Qu family’s resources to connect with many elites in Jiang City, some began worrying that she, the woman who had endured hardship with him, would be cast aside. Others believed that a rich beauty and a poor boy would never have a happy ending—that Shen Fu wouldn’t marry a fiancée who no longer held any value.
Before returning to Jiang City, Qu Bixin had nightmares for three consecutive nights.
She dreamed that Shen Fu had called off the engagement and found a more beautiful, sensible, obedient female secretary. On the third night, she woke from her own sobbing. Shen Fu, who had heard the commotion at some point, entered her room from next door, still wearing his suit jacket.
That night, seeing her curled up under the covers with tear-streaked cheeks, he took the initiative to bring up registering their marriage once they returned to Jiang City.
It was like giving her reassurance.
On the fourth night, she stopped having nightmares.
Those past memories, deeply buried, would often surface unintentionally.
A layer of mist clouded Qu Bixin’s eyes. She blinked lightly before seeing the man standing before her clearly.
Compared to back then, he looked even more mature—and that face was still irresistibly captivating.
Memory and reality overlapped, leaving her dazed for a long time before she snapped back to her senses.
Holding a clean nightgown in her arms, Qu Bixin adjusted her emotions and said, “I remember He Qingchi arranged a room for you.”
The corridor was silent. The windows were tightly shut; not even a breeze could enter.
He Qingchi and Wen Shuchen had already gone to sleep with the child. Only she and Shen Fu remained, facing off at the guest room door.
Shen Fu lowered his head to look at her. “If I wanted to enter your room, I could ask Wen Shuchen for the key. You won’t be able to stop me tonight.”
In other words, to avoid disturbing the Wen couple, she shouldn’t make a fuss.
They stood there for nearly ten minutes. In the end, Qu Bixin gave up staying the night at He Qingchi’s house. She threw the clean nightgown at Shen Fu, her little face stiff. “Oh. Then you go in and sleep.”
With that, she turned and walked downstairs.
She didn’t even want to sleep with Shen Fu on her own turf—let alone at someone else’s house.
After leaving the villa.
Qu Bixin headed for her car. Before she could get in, Shen Fu grabbed her and pushed her into the passenger seat.
Bang—the door shut and was immediately locked.
In terms of physical strength, she was never a match for him. She could only sit there, sulking with a stiff face.
Shen Fu drove with practiced ease. When his phone rang along the way, he ignored it. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at her. “You blocked me.”
His thin lips uttered the words calmly, stating a fact.
Qu Bixin’s fingers curled into her palm, stiff from being idle too long. “Have you gone too long without dating a woman? Isn’t it normal for women to be temperamental and block you during a spat?”
She spoke as if she made perfect sense, her expression turning innocent.
His phone continued ringing. He remained unmoved and asked quietly, “Are you angry?”
“Angry about what?”
She countered lightly.
Both of them were old foxes acting. Whoever laid things bare first would lose.
She turned her face toward the darkened car window.
The ringing paused, then started again.
Finally unable to endure it, Qu Bixin turned back and saw the caller ID: Shen Tingji.
Shen Fu focused on driving, showing no intention of answering.
In Qu Bixin’s mind, that translated into guilt—afraid he couldn’t juggle two women at once.
Unable to hold back her sarcasm, she said, “Your precious darling is calling and you won’t even answer?”
Shen Fu pulled the car to the roadside, picked up the phone, and answered.
Right in front of her, he spoke to Shen Tingji openly. “I’m out.”
Shen Tingji couldn’t speak. Instead, the nanny’s voice sounded: “I have a bit of a cold. I want to drink something you cook.”
Clearly, she was reading from words written on paper.
The car was small and enclosed. Qu Bixin wasn’t deaf—she heard everything clearly.
Shen Fu’s brows furrowed slightly, as if he was about to reproach the nanny for inadequate care.
On the other end, Shen Tingji requested that he return tonight, then hung up.
That manner—less like a legitimate wife, more like an ancestral matriarch demanding obedience.
Qu Bixin sneered at his self-inflicted predicament. “Get out and go back to being her nanny.”
She used to cry and throw tantrums to keep Shen Fu from leaving. But every time, Shen Tingji would easily summon him away with a single call. After several painful lessons, she no longer hoped for anything.
She sat motionless in the passenger seat, red lips pressed tight, no longer looking at him.
Only when she heard the car door slam did her eyelashes tremble.
After a long while, Qu Bixin took control of the steering wheel again, her little face pale, and changed direction back to her own residence.
In a high-end villa district in downtown Jiang City, only the living room light was on; the corner lights were extinguished. Inside were only Shen Tingji and a nanny.
When Shen Fu returned home, the nanny seemed relieved and retreated to her room.
He placed his suit jacket on the arm of the sofa and unhurriedly rolled up his sleeves. Throughout, he remained quiet. Shen Tingji sat still under the glow of a floor lamp. Her complexion looked slightly poor. Her unblinking eyes stared at him—no longer carrying the innocent purity of childhood, but revealing a coldness.
Most of the time at home, she was like this. Shen Fu went to the kitchen and began preparing vegetable porridge.
Whenever Shen Tingji was sick, this was what she wanted to eat. The habit had been cultivated by Shen Fu himself.
In the past, they had been poor. Shen Fu had to manage his studies while raising his young sister. He had lived the hardships of the lower class to the extreme. At their poorest, he took her to live in an abandoned single-story house. At dawn, he would go to the market with two yuan to buy vegetables no one else wanted. After cleaning them, he would cook vegetable porridge to coax her into eating.
Later, even after Shen Tingji grew up, countless medicines were less effective than the vegetable porridge Shen Fu made.
Smoke and warmth filled the kitchen. From the living room, one could see his busy figure. Shen Tingji remained seated in the same posture until ten minutes later.
Shen Fu emerged carrying steaming vegetable porridge in a ceramic bowl, with side dishes—delicately arranged.
He set it on the coffee table, his voice calm and emotionless. “Careful, it’s hot.”
Shen Tingji picked up the spoon and stuffed it into her mouth without caring whether it was hot. When it hurt, she wouldn’t cry out. Many times, Shen Fu could only watch her from the side.
After drinking half a bowl, she looked at him and wrote on a white sheet of paper placed on the table: “The Qu family’s little princess is only with you because she’s bored and wants to experience commoner hardship. She will never love a pauper who clawed his way up from the bottom like you.”
Shen Fu read it expressionlessly and did not respond.
Shen Tingji slowly finished the rest of the porridge. Throughout the entire process, the living room was suffocatingly silent.
Until the phone in Shen Fu’s pocket rang, breaking the atmosphere.
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