The Shen family was a prominent one — no expense had ever been spared on their children’s education, upbringing, or general polish. Shen Xuan’s hand wasn’t just soft; it was smooth too, the kind of touch that was hard to put into words.
The kind you could linger over.
Wen Zeli tossed the tissue aside, then adjusted his tie, clicking his tongue a few times, his voice low.
Once they’d left Chengsheng, Chang Xue finally let out a huge breath, driving while muttering, “I hadn’t heard a thing about this beforehand — didn’t expect him to just parachute in like that. You two just got married, and on the second day you’re already squaring off at a shareholders’ meeting — this’ll probably be all over the news again.”
Shen Xuan, scrolling through Chengsheng’s recent projects, made a few small sounds of acknowledgment.
At a red light, Chang Xue glanced at her, catching sight of Shen Xuan’s slender fingers gripping the tablet. Had her earlier guess been wrong after all?
Did Shen Xuan not actually like Wen Zeli?
She tapped the steering wheel. “By the way, isn’t tomorrow the third-day return-home visit?”
Kyoto society placed great weight on proper etiquette, especially for a family like the Wens, positioned right at the intersection of politics and business — never mind the Shens. Shen Xuan put her tablet away, brow furrowed in thought.
After a long moment.
She finally answered Chang Xue. “Yes, we need to go back.”
Back at the villa, the housekeeper Chen Xixi was alone, setting up the robot vacuum to clean. Seeing Shen Xuan return, she quickly stood and smiled. “Director Shen, welcome back.”
Shen Xuan changed out of her heels. “Mm.”
Chen Xixi’s face lit up, bright and sunny. “Would you like some fruit or a dessert? I can make either.”
Shen Xuan glanced at her, rubbing her neck — she hadn’t slept well last night, the pillow a bit too high — and said, “Neither, thanks. I’ll go upstairs and look over some documents.”
Even though her father had sent her to the shareholders’ meeting, she’d caught the worry in his eyes too. Either way, coming back to the villa was fine — there was a study set up on the second floor.
Wen Zeli had never said whose it was.
So she simply made use of it.
A few of Chengsheng’s recent projects struck her as having some issues.
She stayed at the villa the whole afternoon and evening; by nearly nine-thirty, Shen Xuan finally emerged from the study, returned to her room to shower, and changed into more casual pajamas.
Downstairs.
Chen Xixi was on the phone, leaning against the liquor cabinet. This young housekeeper was clearly one of Wen Zeli’s trusted staff — unguarded in her manner, though competent at her job.
Shen Xuan said nothing, heading toward the kitchen.
But then she heard Chen Xixi say quietly, “Sister Lan Qin, when are you coming back?”
“Soon, right?”
Shen Xuan’s steps paused.
“No, nothing’s wrong, just a little bored, missing you, that’s all.”
“Oh, Director Shen’s fine, I guess, but definitely not as great as you.”
“Not sure, but from the young master’s feed, looks like he’s out tonight with Young Master Xiao and the others.”
The stretch between the stairs and the kitchen was dim; Shen Xuan stood there for a moment, pulled out her phone, and idly tapped into her own feed.
Her feed.
Held nothing from Wen Zeli at all.
Shen Xuan turned off her phone and slipped it back into her pocket. She walked into the kitchen, flicked on the light, grabbed a cup, and poured herself some milk. The noise startled Chen Xixi, who poked her head around the liquor cabinet — catching sight of that tall silhouette, she instinctively hung up the call.
Silence fell behind her.
Shen Xuan came out carrying her milk.
Under the dim light.
Her eyes met the girl’s directly.
She looked at her flatly, then walked up the stairs, her icy, striking beauty radiating both distance and indifference. Chen Xixi froze for a moment, not daring to say a word.
Back on the second floor.
Shen Xuan drank her milk and checked the time — nearly eleven at night.
She leaned against the headboard, picked up her phone, and dialed Wen Zeli’s number. The call connected quickly; his low, amused voice came through.
“Director Shen?”
Shen Xuan thought — well, at least he’d bothered saving her number.
She said, “We’re going back to my family’s tomorrow.”
A whole houseful of Shens would be waiting; he couldn’t afford to be absent.
Wen Zeli paused on the other end for a moment, then let out a low laugh. “Oh, right, I completely forgot.”
“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning.”
Shen Xuan’s voice stayed flat, without a trace of emotion. “Thanks.”
With that.
She hung up.
Wen Zeli, hearing the dial tone, pulled the phone away from his ear a few seconds later to check — sure enough, she’d really hung up on him. He raised an eyebrow, laughed, and leaned back in his chair.
He picked up a cigar, bit down on it, and tapped the table toward Xiao Ran. “Cards. Deal.”
Xiao Ran pushed up the brim of his cap, glancing at him. “Your married life with Miss Shen sure is entertaining.”
Today’s shareholder showdown had already spread through their entire social circle. Wen Zexin clicked his tongue. “Impressive.”
Having said that, Wen Zexin glanced at his phone and quietly deleted a draft invitation to Shen Lin — after all, he was Shen Xuan’s older brother, and, well, tensions were running a bit high lately. Better to let it go for now.
With a new pillow, Shen Xuan slept better. She woke early and got herself ready — she rarely wore anything besides her work suits, so most of the casual clothes in her closet were practically brand new.
She hardly ever wore them; there was a whole range of dresses to choose from. She spent a while deciding.
Eventually settling on a shirt-style top paired with a light-colored A-line skirt.
She checked the time.
Nine-thirty in the morning.
Shen Xuan grabbed her phone and small purse and headed downstairs, scrolling for Wen Zeli’s number as she went; her heels clicked lightly against the stairs. The front door of the living room stood open, sunlight spilling in from outside. Wen Zeli, yawning, walked in and looked up to find the woman on the stairs.
Sunlight touched the staircase too, her hair falling loose, her eyes lowered — she looked, in that moment, unexpectedly soft, the A-line skirt setting off her figure beautifully.
Wen Zeli raised an eyebrow. “Morning.”
Just as she’d found his number, Shen Xuan heard his voice and looked up, spotting the man leaning against the cabinet, the corner of his mouth curved, his eyes carrying both appraisal and amusement.
Shen Xuan: “Morning.”
Reasonably punctual, at least.
She put her phone away and came down the stairs.
Chen Xixi came out carrying breakfast, and seeing the two of them together, said at once, “Director Shen, young master, good morning! Come eat.”
Wen Zeli straightened up with a smile, his own shirt also brand new, fitted well against his lean, toned frame, hinting at a bit of muscle underneath. He walked over and pulled out a chair to sit.
Shen Xuan took the seat across from him, picking up a nearby magazine and flipping through it.
The married couple, sitting face to face.
Barely exchanging two words.
Chen Xixi said from the side, “Young master, this is the noodle dish you mentioned wanting to try before — see how it tastes?”
Wen Zeli laughed. “How thoughtful of you.”
He picked up his chopsticks and took a bite.
The taste—
His brow twitched. He looked at Chen Xixi.
Chen Xixi smiled, mouthing silently, “Sister Lan Qin taught me.”
Wen Zeli’s eyes narrowed, unreadable. After a moment, he smiled and said, “Still not quite the same, though.”
With that, he took another couple of bites.
Shen Xuan unhurriedly set down her magazine, glancing at the little housekeeper’s retreating figure — she’d caught the whole exchange just from reading their lips. Her gaze skimmed briefly over the bowl of unrecognizable noodles, then she looked away and returned to her own breakfast.
Her usual breakfast was a milk sandwich and eggs.
The phone on the table chimed, the sound especially sharp against the quiet.
Wen Zeli set down his chopsticks, sipping black coffee, watching the woman across from him. She picked up her phone, a hint of salad dressing still on her lips; she wiped it away with a slender fingertip.
A perfectly unremarkable gesture.
Wen Zeli glanced at it, then looked away.
After breakfast, just past ten. The family group chat was already asking whether Shen Xuan had set off yet — with the new son-in-law’s first visit to the house, the family was understandably a little tense.
Shen Xuan picked up a tissue, wiped the corner of her mouth, stood, and walked out of the dining room.
Wen Zeli, seeing her leave, bent down to stub out his cigarette.
Shen Xuan looked at him. “Let’s go.”
Wen Zeli stood with a smile, and the two of them walked side by side toward the door. He asked, “Full enough?”
“Mm.”
Wen Zeli smiled.
Outside, sunlight streamed down brilliantly. The two of them went down the steps; Wen Zeli walked toward the car to open the back door, then, reconsidering, circled around to the passenger side instead and opened that one for her.
Shen Xuan stood there for a moment, then, after a few seconds, opened the back door herself and got in.
Seeing this.
Wen Zeli laughed.
After a moment, he rubbed the corner of his mouth and walked toward the driver’s seat.
Once inside the car.
He adjusted the rearview mirror to look at Shen Xuan. “Take a look at the gifts I picked out for your family — if anything’s not quite right, I’ll have someone send more over later.”
The gifts sat on the other seat; Shen Xuan turned to look, and without hesitation, ran her fingers lightly over them.
Thoroughly attentive, thoroughly focused.
Wen Zeli’s eyes lingered on her in the mirror, watching her go through each item with a faint, amused smile.
Shen Xuan withdrew her hand and looked up.
Meeting his eyes. The two of them held that quiet gaze for a second before Wen Zeli smiled, tapped his own nose, and asked, “So? Satisfied?”
Shen Xuan: “Not bad.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Director Shen. I’ll keep improving?”
Shen Xuan: “You flatter yourself.”
A perfectly rigid, businesslike answer. Wen Zeli laughed, looked away, and started the car.
The scenery of the complex slid by outside the window as Shen Xuan replied to messages from her family; her gaze caught on the empty passenger seat. Two years ago, she’d once seen Lan Qin sitting in that very seat, beside Wen Zeli.
Back then.
Lan Qin had even greeted her.
The Shen family, valuing peace and quiet, had their home in Mingshi Huicheng — quite a drive from here.
Before her marriage, Shen Xuan had always lived at home. Sharp and decisive in her professional life, calm in temperament, but through all these years — aside from her time studying abroad for university —
She’d basically always lived at home.
Arriving at Mingshi Huicheng.
The front gate stood wide open, the celebratory couplets from the wedding still hanging in place.
Even the evergreen trees planted outside were draped in strings of small red lanterns.
She got out of the car.
Looking at the family home, a rare flicker of warmth rose in her eyes.
The housekeeper and staff came out to greet them.
Wen Zeli, carrying a bag of gifts, adjusted his collar and walked up beside her, saying with a low laugh, “Shall we?”
Shen Xuan glanced at him.
And walked forward.
Today’s heels were new — the first time she’d worn them — and the backs had already started rubbing painfully against her heels. She paused for a moment; Wen Zeli, a step behind her, lowered his eyes and glanced down.
Blood.
He clicked his tongue, stepped forward, and wrapped an arm around her waist, fingers closing in to hold her steady.
Shen Xuan’s body went rigid.
She turned her head slightly, a hint of coldness in her eyes, looking at him.
Wen Zeli raised an eyebrow, looking back at her too, the earlier amusement in his eyes fading slightly before deepening again — laced now with deliberate provocation. He laughed quietly. “What? Your husband doesn’t even have the right to hold your waist?”
“Look up — your whole family’s watching!”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got no interest in your waist.”
He murmured with a laugh.