Chapter Twenty-Nine

When Fu Chen returned home that evening, the entire villa was shrouded in darkness, so silent it was almost frightening. The only sound in the air was the ticking of a medieval clock hanging on the wall. There used to be many servants in the house, but after Shen Huaiqing arrived, she complained that too many people made things inconvenient, so most were dismissed, leaving only Aunt Feng behind.

Coincidentally, Aunt Feng was off today.

Fu Chen didn’t turn on the lights. He sat alone on the sofa, letting himself melt into the endless dark.

He wanted to go upstairs, push open the bedroom door, and see if Shen Huaiqing was there, but for some reason, he didn’t have the courage.

Over these months, he’d grown accustomed to Shen Huaiqing’s presence in his home.

He got used to seeing her laugh uproariously at variety shows on the sofa, and cry over dramas.

He got used to ending his workday and entering the bedroom to find her lying on the bed reading, or sitting at the vanity putting on makeup.

He got used to leaving each morning while she, still half-asleep, never forgot to mumble, “See you tonight.”

These fragments of daily life gradually pieced themselves together in Fu Chen’s mind. Unconsciously, he’d accepted this “wife,” accepted her existence under his roof.

The ringtone of a message shattered the quiet of the room.

“Ah Chen, do you have time to visit me lately? I kind of miss you.”

Fu Chen stared at the WeChat from Lin Yiqing, the glow from his phone harsh against the darkness.

He didn’t reply. Silently, he turned off his phone.

At this moment, he felt no longing for Lin Yiqing. Before, when he was alone, he’d often sit in his study and stare at her photograph, missing her so much it nearly drove him mad.

But Shen Huaiqing’s arrival had filled the void in his life. She could be coquettish, cause mischief, play little tricks.

He hadn’t thought of Lin Yiqing for a long time. When Lin Yiqing appeared, he thought he’d be happy, but in that instant, he panicked.

His phone rang again. Annoyed, Fu Chen glanced at the screen.

A strange number? Few people knew his number—even some partner companies didn’t have it.

Fu Chen felt something was wrong and answered, “Who is this?”

“Mr. Fu? I’m the front desk at W Hotel. Mr. Lin gave me your number. Sorry to disturb you.” The receptionist respectfully explained the reason for the call.

W Hotel? Lin Yu?

“What is it?” His voice was devoid of emotion.

“Mr. Fu, your wife, Shen Huaiqing, seems to have drunk too much. A man named Mu Jinghuai brought her to the hotel and checked in. I’m afraid something might happen, so I called Mr. Lin, but he told me to call you. Should I open a room for them?”

After the receptionist finished, silence hung on the line, only heavy breathing audible.

A sinister smile touched Fu Chen’s lips, chilling cold radiated from him. “Open the room. Once it’s ready, send me the room number. I’ll be there soon.”

“Keep your mouth shut about this and you’ll be rewarded.”

Even through the phone, the receptionist could feel Fu Chen’s anger and hurriedly agreed, quickly hanging up, afraid a second’s delay might ignite his wrath.

Mu Jinghuai waited anxiously at the front desk. Once the call ended, he rushed to ask, “Well? Is it okay?”

The receptionist quickly worked at the computer, then handed over the room card. “It’s done. Your room is on the fifteenth floor. Take the card.”

Mu Jinghuai thanked her repeatedly, then placed Shen Huaiqing’s hand on his shoulder. Gently, he supported her waist and helped her into the elevator.

The receptionist watched their departing figures with sympathy, shaking her head and praying that Mu Jinghuai would walk out alive.

Of course, all this was unknown to the sleeping Shen Huaiqing and the blissful Mu Jinghuai.

Mu Jinghuai was still immersed in the joy of being alone with Shen Huaiqing. He carefully placed her on the bed, covered her with the quilt, then pulled up a chair to sit quietly at her bedside.

Silver moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, spilling across Shen Huaiqing’s face. She was well-behaved when drunk—no tears, no fuss, no vomiting, just quietly asleep. The blush of intoxication had faded from her cheeks, leaving her looking peaceful.

Mu Jinghuai tenderly stroked her hair, his brown eyes sparkling like the Milky Way, a gentle smile lingering on his lips.

He truly wanted to know what had happened to Shen Huaiqing over these years—why she vanished without a trace after leaving their hometown. But since fate had arranged for them to meet again in Nancheng, there must be a reason.

“How could you marry someone else? When we were kids, you said you’d marry me, train me to be a henpecked husband. How could you break your promise?”

“You know, my parents divorced too, so I became a child without a father.”

“I chose to go to university in Nancheng because neighbors said you and your mother moved there.”

“But my mother didn’t want me to go. She said my father abandoned us because he went to Nancheng for work. Still, I insisted. Whenever I didn’t have class or on weekends, I worked everywhere to earn money. It was exhausting, but working at the magazine is how I met you, and I’m really happy.”

“Finally, I found you, but everything had changed.”

Mu Jinghuai’s rough fingertips gently caressed Shen Huaiqing’s delicate cheek, whispering softly to her. He’d held these words back for years and finally had the chance to let them out tonight.

He didn’t really want Shen Huaiqing to know, because he didn’t want her to pity him, to feel sorry for him, to carry more burdens.

She’d carried too much since childhood; he couldn’t let her bear even more.

At this moment, a dangerous thought surfaced in Mu Jinghuai’s heart: he wanted to take Shen Huaiqing away, leave everything behind, and run far, far away.

“Water... water... thirsty...” Shen Huaiqing furrowed her brows and mumbled.

Mu Jinghuai hurried to fetch a bottle of water, gently feeding her sip by sip.

This familiar sensation—could it be Fu Chen? In her muddled mind, Shen Huaiqing subconsciously imagined that Fu Chen was the one giving her water.

In her confusion, eyes shut tight, she muttered as if in a dream, her voice hoarse, “Fu Chen... Fu Chen... you bastard.”

Mu Jinghuai’s movements paused, a sour taste rising in his mouth. Forcing a smile, he whispered, “I’m not Fu Chen, I’m—”

Before he could finish, the door burst open, flooding the room with harsh light.

Fu Chen stood in the doorway, clad in a black trench coat, his cold, distant expression in the dim light as chilling as ice water. Strangely, two police officers stood behind him.

Fu Chen surveyed the room with contempt, his voice icy: “The gentleman before you is suspected of indecent assault, unlawful detention, and trafficking of my wife. I trust the judicial authorities will investigate thoroughly. Return my wife’s innocence!”