The moment the two stepped through the door, the chatter in the living room fell silent.
Every pair of eyes turned toward them in unison.
Some held curiosity, some intrigue, and others quiet scrutiny.
Qin Nuan’s heart beat a little faster, and she instinctively leaned closer to Shen Shiyan.
Sensing her nervousness, Shen Shiyan released the arm she had been holding and instead wrapped his hand around her waist, guiding her forward.
Soon, a relative hurried over with eager hospitality.
“Shiyan’s back?” She glanced at Qin Nuan beside him and probed cautiously, “And this is…?”
“Third Aunt-in-law.” Shen Shiyan gave a slight nod, then introduced, “This is my wife, Qin Nuan.”
One sentence plunged the living room into dead silence.
So it was true?
Shen Shiyan had been single for years, without even a hint of a rumor, yet suddenly a wife had appeared out of nowhere.
Earlier, when everyone had heard the news, they’d been half-doubtful.
They had gathered at the old residence today specifically to verify it.
Now that he had admitted it himself, shock rippled through the crowd.
But even though each of them harbored their own calculations, their outward demeanor warmed up instantly, and they crowded around Qin Nuan with a flurry of compliments.
On the drive over, Shen Shiyan had already briefed her.
The Shen family had many relatives and complicated relationships—she didn’t need to make a deliberate effort to socialize, just stick close to him.
Qin Nuan understood her boundaries and obediently stayed by his side, playing the part of a gentle, composed wife.
When someone greeted her, she offered a soft smile and followed Shen Shiyan’s lead in addressing them.
Her manner was warm and proper, but she spoke little, keeping her composure steady.
Yet as she made her way through the circle of relatives, Qin Nuan noticed something.
Only the collateral branches of the Shen family were present in the living room.
Elder Shen, Shen Shiyan’s father, his second uncle, and his aunt—none of the core members of the Shen family were there.
Shen Shiyan didn’t seem surprised. He led her to a seat and asked casually, “Where’s Grandfather?”
“The old master is resting upstairs. He’s probably still napping and doesn’t know you’ve arrived.”
Not long after, a servant came to relay the message: the old master was awake and wanted Shen Shiyan in the study.
Shen Shiyan rose, looked down at her, and said in a gentle tone:
“Sit here for a while. I’ll go have a few words with Grandfather and be right back.”
“Mm.” Qin Nuan replied softly, though her heart was a little flustered.
She had a feeling that the moment he left, these Shen relatives would try to eat her alive.
Seeing her unease, Shen Shiyan let out a low chuckle.
He leaned down, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His warm breath brushed against her ear as he whispered soothingly:
“Don’t be afraid. You don’t need to pay any mind to the people here. If you don’t want to say something, don’t. If anyone gives you trouble, wait for me to come back and I’ll have your back.”
Qin Nuan’s face flushed, and she nodded, though her heart felt considerably steadier.
This scene did not go unnoticed by the Shen relatives, and their expressions varied.
He seemed rather attentive to this wife who had appeared out of nowhere.
The moment Shen Shiyan left, the atmosphere in the living room cooled instantly.
In wealthy families, everyone was sharp as a tack.
Without him present, the looks they gave her immediately shed their earlier politeness, leaving only naked probing and sizing up.
Someone smiled and came over to strike up a conversation, wrapping their words in courtesy while every sentence probed at her family background.
Qin Nuan kept Shen Shiyan’s advice firmly in mind—warm but unyielding, she responded only with polite, simple answers and not a single extra word.
Seeing they couldn’t pry anything out of her, the relatives retreated with barely concealed disappointment.
Qin Nuan quietly exhaled in relief.
This was fine. She just had to hold out until he came back.
Just then—
A sharp, deliberately coquettish voice drifted down from the second-floor landing:
“Oh, so you’ve finally decided to show up. We’ve been waiting.”
Qin Nuan looked up.
There stood a woman on the second floor.
Her makeup was immaculate, but her eyes carried a hint of disdain.
She wore a strapless slip dress paired with a thin fur stole, the slit running up high on the skirt.
There was a deliberate seductiveness about her.
Some of the guests let their gazes drift between the two, deliberately stirring the pot:
“Oh, Ruowei’s here.”
“Shiyan brought his daughter-in-law back today to see you—why’d you take so long to come down?”
Qin Nuan paused, realizing who she was.
Jiang Ruowei.
Shen Shiyan’s nominal stepmother.
The story of Shen Shiyan’s parents wasn’t exactly a secret.
His biological mother, Xu Yunzhi, came from a distinguished family—gentle and graceful. She and Shen Junru had a marriage of convenience, but Shen Junru treated her with icy indifference.
Xu Yunzhi passed away when Shen Shiyan was six.
Within six months, Shen Junru had married Jiang Ruowei.
The couple also had a son, only two years younger than Shen Shiyan.
It was blatantly obvious there had been an affair during the marriage.
Word had it the scandal was huge at the time—Elder Shen flew into a rage and even disowned his son for a while.
Jiang Ruowei descended the stairs slowly, her gaze sweeping over Qin Nuan without restraint, then let out a mocking laugh:
“And here I thought it was some heiress who’d caught our young master’s eye. Turns out it’s just you.”
“People from ordinary families never learn proper manners—married, and you still don’t think to come pay your respects to your elders.”
The room fell silent.
The hostility was so thick it was almost tangible—Jiang Ruowei was clearly trying to put Qin Nuan in her place while Shiyan was away, and take a jab at his dignity in the process.
Quite a few guests lifted their teacups, ready to watch the show.
Here it comes.
Qin Nuan’s fingertips tightened slightly, her heart beating a little faster, but her composure held steady.
She’d anticipated this moment before coming.
But she couldn’t back down—she represented Shen Shiyan, and retreating would only embarrass him.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the flutter of nerves. Instead of showing any weakness, she smiled faintly, meeting Jiang Ruowei’s gaze head-on, her voice unhurried.
“Auntie, you’ve got that wrong.”
“The day after Shiyan and I got married, I went to the cemetery to pay respects to my mother-in-law, and I brought flowers myself.”
“Shiyan only has one mother.”
She paused, her tone gentle but each word crisp: “As for you… I’m sorry, but who are you?”
The implication was clear.
Shen Shiyan had never acknowledged Jiang Ruowei’s position, and neither would she—let alone owe her any manners or respect.
A relative couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Jiang Ruowei froze in place, her face turning sour, glaring daggers at Qin Nuan.
She hadn’t expected this girl from an ordinary family to have such a sharp tongue.
The words hit exactly where it hurt.
Her rise to this position had never been respectable, and she came from the entertainment industry.
Elder Shen still found her too low-class to acknowledge, and the entire Shen family looked down on her in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.
Now Qin Nuan had laid it bare—a slap right across her face.
Jiang Ruowei let out a cold snort, her heels clicking loudly as she turned, but she didn’t dare argue further.
She could try to push Qin Nuan around, but she would never dare provoke Shen Shiyan.
She knew all too well what her stepson was capable of.
When he was cold, he wouldn’t even acknowledge his own father—let alone her.
The exchange made it clear to everyone: Qin Nuan was no soft target to be pushed around.
Someone stepped in with a smile to smooth things over, offering Jiang Ruowei a way out.
But Jiang Ruowei, having lost that round, wasn’t about to let it go. Within minutes, she struck again.
Her gaze swept over Qin Nuan’s outfit with contempt, her face twisting in disgust, her voice rising:
“What are you wearing?”
“Not a single decent designer piece on you—could those be bargain-bin knockoffs bought for a few dozen bucks?”
“You’re Mrs. Shen now. When you step out, you represent the Shen family’s image. Dressing like that—are you deliberately letting outsiders laugh at us?”
Qin Nuan’s frame stilled slightly. She instinctively wanted to look down at her clothes but forced herself not to. A flicker of unease crossed her face.
Her outfit truly wasn’t any famous brand—she’d bought it online. Empire Group paid her a decent salary, twenty thousand a month, but she still had a mortgage to pay. Besides, she’d never had high standards for clothing; comfortable and presentable was enough. Those expensive designer labels were beyond her budget, and she didn’t see the point in them anyway.
What she hadn’t expected was Jiang Ruowei seizing on this to humiliate her in public.
That flicker of unease was immediately caught by Jiang Ruowei, who instantly grew smug, her voice turning even sharper:
“Qin Nuan, I’m not one to nag, but since you’ve married Shiyan, at least buy a few designer pieces to keep up appearances. Don’t embarrass the Shen family.”
The Shen relatives chimed in one after another, their words dripping with insinuations that she didn’t know proper conduct and wasn’t worthy of Shen Shiyan.
Standing behind the crowd, Jiang Ruowei wore a triumphant expression. Only when the others had said their fill did she speak up, feigning magnanimity:
“Never mind. You come from an ordinary background—you’ve never seen much of the world.”
“When you have time, come back to the old mansion. As your elder, I’ll properly teach you some manners.”
Surrounded by a crowd pointing and whispering, a flicker of helpless panic rose in Qin Nuan’s heart. Her fingers clenched tightly at the hem of her clothes, and she bit her lip, racing through her mind for a way to respond.
Just then.
A shawl carrying a faint scent of sandalwood was gently draped over her shoulders, wrapping around her trembling frame. Warmth enveloped her instantly.
A man’s calm, steady voice sounded from behind her.
“My wife, Shen Shiyan’s,” his voice was low, yet every word carried weight: “doesn’t need to care about anyone else’s gaze, nor does she need to know any designer brands.”
Qin Nuan froze, turning to look.
Shen Shiyan had somehow already appeared behind her, his gaze resting on her with a trace of warmth buried in his eyes.
He gently turned her around.
His slender fingers carefully tied the shawl’s knot, his expression focused, his movements patient.
After tying it, he drew her into his embrace.
But when he turned around, all the tenderness in his eyes faded, replaced by a cold, unfathomable depth.
His gaze swept over everyone present, finally landing on Jiang Ruowei, whose face had gone pale.
Expressionless, his tone like ice:
“As long as she stays by my side—”
“I will naturally place the best the world has to offer at her feet.”