The way he said it, anyone who didn’t know better might have thought he was whispering sweet nothings. Shen Xuan looked at his sharp eyes, made a small sound, and looked away. Her waist did relax a bit, though.
Wen Zeli said nothing, watching her profile for a long moment. Then he lifted his eyes, tightened his grip slightly, and half-guided her forward, arm around her.
The waist beneath his palm.
Impossibly slender.
The whole Shen family had gathered today.
Shen He, back from a business trip, and Shen Lin, pulled away from the research institute — both had made the effort to come. Whatever Wen Zeli had gotten up to these first two days of marriage, whether seeing off an ex-girlfriend at the airport or facing off with his wife at a shareholders’ meeting.
None of it mattered once they stepped through the Shen family’s door.
Shen Xiaoquan and his wife Mo Tian had already composed themselves entirely, welcoming their new son-in-law with warm, genuine cheer.
The whole family sat together in the living room, chatting.
The housekeeper murmured to Shen Xiaoquan what she’d witnessed at the door — Wen Zeli walking in with his arm around Shen Xuan’s waist. Shen Xiaoquan glanced up at his daughter and Wen Zeli; Shen Xuan and Mo Tian were deep in conversation, while Wen Zeli leaned against the armrest, talking business with Shen Lin.
The man wore a white shirt and slacks, a hint of wildness in his eyes.
Striking looks.
And head of the Wen Group, no less.
A genuinely excellent son-in-law.
Too bad.
“Zeli, what made you decide to buy into Chengsheng?” Shen Xiaoquan leaned back, asking with a smile. Wen Zeli turned, leaning forward, tapping his cigar against the table. “Can’t quite recall — that was two months ago.”
Shen Xiaoquan narrowed his eyes. “Oh? You bought in without even understanding the reasoning behind it?”
Wen Zeli said with a smile, “Maybe… our group’s financial division just isn’t performing well enough?”
All excuses.
Shen Xiaoquan, realizing he wouldn’t get a straight answer, said instead, “The Shens have no interest in taking controlling stake.”
Wen Zeli: “Hm. Neither will the Wens, then?”
Shen Xiaoquan glanced at his daughter.
Shen Xuan sat up straighter too. “Chengsheng’s recent projects have some issues. Are you aware?”
Wen Zeli leaned back, glancing at the beautiful woman, and said with a smile, “Just found out myself. What’s your plan?”
Shen Xuan: “Not something I can share.”
Wen Zeli: “What a coincidence. Neither can I.”
This exchange between husband and wife carried a distinctly combative edge, nothing resembling marital harmony at all. Shen Lin and Shen He exchanged a glance, a flicker of concern rising between them.
Was their sister’s marriage to Wen Zeli a good thing or a bad thing?
After lunch, the Shen household settled in for a rest.
Shen Xuan and Wen Zeli’s room was shared. Before they went in, Mo Tian pulled her daughter aside and asked quietly, “Have you two… been intimate yet?”
Shen Xuan paused. “No.”
Mo Tian sighed.
She’d more or less guessed as much.
Looking at her daughter’s flat, unreadable expression, she said, “Let it happen naturally. Don’t force it.”
Shen Xuan: “I won’t.”
“Good.”
Mo Tian let go, allowing her daughter to head inside.
The room had once been Shen Xuan’s own; most of her belongings had been moved out already, and the space had been slightly rearranged to now serve as the married couple’s room.
When Shen Xuan walked in.
Wen Zeli was on the sofa, looking at his laptop.
After the meal, he looked even more relaxed than usual, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, slender fingers resting on the mouse. Shen Xuan’s steps faltered briefly, then she walked silently to the floor-to-ceiling window, picked up a book from the small shelf, and said, “Go take a nap.”
Wen Zeli, fingertip pressed to his lips, focused on the screen, raised an eyebrow at her words and turned with a smile. “I don’t nap.”
Shen Xuan, book in hand, stood by the window facing him.
She did have a napping habit.
But with a man in the room now, sleep wasn’t happening anyway.
Wen Zeli leaned back against his chair, pointing toward the bed. “You go sleep. I’ll head out to find Shen Lin in a bit.”
The woman’s whole posture radiated wariness.
Wen Zeli found it amusing.
“Is that all right, Director Shen?”
Shen Xuan caught the teasing note in his voice, and thinking back to her mother’s question outside the door, she walked to the sofa instead, sitting down at one end. “I’ll read for a while.”
The long sofa — Wen Zeli occupied most of it; once she sat, she claimed a good portion for herself too. Wen Zeli watched her silently for a moment, then laughed.
He sat up straight, his well-defined fingers returning to the mouse, continuing to work on his laptop.
Shen Xuan leaned against the armrest, flipping through her book.
Reading the words on the page.
Drowsiness gradually crept in as she read. Just then, the phone on the table buzzed; Wen Zeli reached over, checked the caller ID, and let go of the mouse.
Shen Xuan’s drowsiness mostly cleared. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him standing up.
Then the curtains behind him were pulled open, sunlight pouring in. He answered the call, his voice low, carrying a hint of unmistakable tenderness.
“Coming back that soon?”
“Tch, fine.”
The sunlight fell across Shen Xuan’s face; she shielded her eyes with a hand, listening to him talk — a woman’s voice came through faintly from the other end, and it stirred certain memories.
Lan Qin had been someone Wen Zeli spent a long time pursuing.
Back then.
The way he’d chased her, in Chang Xue’s words, had been unbearably careful — treating Lan Qin like fragile glass, afraid she might shatter.
Once he hung up, Wen Zeli turned, walked back toward the sofa, and bent down to grab a cigarette from the coffee table. Just as he picked it up, he paused, glancing to the side.
Shen Xuan had already fallen asleep.
Propped up on one arm, strands of hair falling across her cheek, faintly revealing the tip of her nose and her red lips.
Her neck, exposed slightly by the position, long and slender.
Wen Zeli watched for a few seconds, then looked away, put the cigarette in his mouth, lit it, picked up his laptop, and left. Just before reaching the entryway, he tapped something on his phone.
Turning the room’s air conditioning up two degrees.
Sleeping too fitfully.
Shen Xuan shivered and woke; the book slid off her lap onto the floor. She sat up, rubbing her neck, just as a video call came in from Chang Xue.
Shen Xuan picked it up.
Chang Xue’s face appeared. “Were you napping?”
“Just woke up.”
“On the sofa? Shouldn’t you be sleeping in a proper bed, now that you’re home?”
Shen Xuan: “He was in the room just now.”
Chang Xue froze for a few seconds.
“He?”
After a moment, it clicked. “Oh, Young Master Wen?”
Shen Xuan: “Mm.”
Chang Xue clicked her tongue. “You gave up the bed for him? Don’t be too generous with him. Let me tell you — Lan Qin just won some award abroad, and she’s dropping her studies entirely to come back.”
Shen Xuan paused. “Mm.”
Chang Xue: “Ever since you two got married, she’s been like a ghost that won’t leave. Guess she’s scared — scared something real might actually develop between you and Young Master Wen. She’d been dead set on staying abroad before, apparently even fought with him about it, and now suddenly she’s coming back just like that, wasting all the connections her professor set up for her.”
Shen Xuan, chin propped on one hand, rubbing her neck, paused at this. That call he’d taken before she fell asleep — it must have been Lan Qin.
“Got it.”
Chang Xue, watching her stand up on screen, said helplessly, “You’re way too calm about this.”
“Okay, now I actually believe you don’t like Young Master Wen. In your world, I guess your family’s the only thing that really matters.”
Shen Xuan looked at Chang Xue through the screen, picked up her book, and set it back on the shelf. “That’s right.”
Her family mattered most.
The whole marriage had been for her family’s sake.
Kyoto’s web of relationships was intricate beyond measure; keeping a family standing long-term — truly unshakeable — was no easy feat. The business world was a battlefield, and every move she made had to be carefully considered.
Since sleep wasn’t happening anyway, Shen Xuan tidied up and headed downstairs. In the main living room, three young men sat playing cards — Shen Lin, glasses on, holding his hand of cards; Shen He, delicate brow furrowed in concentration; and Wen Zeli, cigar between his teeth, leaning back in a large chair, radiating pure arrogance.
Shen Xuan detoured to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of yogurt, peeled it open, and leaned against the cabinet to chat with the housekeeper.
“Xiaoxuan, I made you some pork floss — two big jars. Don’t forget to take them when you leave.”
Shen Xuan, sipping her yogurt, asked, “Anything else?”
The housekeeper glanced at her and laughed — she could tell from Shen Xuan’s eyes that she was still hoping for more — and said quietly, “There’s also canned yellow peaches, eight cans.”
Shen Xuan nodded.
“Wonderful.”
The housekeeper laughed again.
She said, “It’s not like marrying out takes you to the ends of the earth. Whatever you’re craving, just come back when you have time.”
Shen Xuan said quietly, “Okay.”
The living room cabinet was close enough to the sofa that Shen Xuan and the housekeeper’s conversation carried easily. Wen Zeli lifted his eyes, glancing at the two of them by the cabinet — his gaze settling mostly on Shen Xuan’s face.
She still had that same icy composure.
But her tone had shifted slightly — almost a little coy. He narrowed his eyes, took the cigar from his mouth, bit down on it again, and flipped through his cards, eyes lowered on his hand.
Shen Lin laughed. “Auntie, keep spoiling her like this and she’ll just take you home with her.”
The housekeeper replied, “Fine by me, I’d be delighted.”
Shen Lin: “No way, you’re staying right here. That way Xuan sis still has to come back for your cooking, and we get to see her too, riding on your coattails.”
The housekeeper laughed heartily.
Shen Xuan tossed her yogurt bottle, glancing at her brother — cool, but with an unmistakable warmth underneath.
Shen He, a little wary of his older sister as always, didn’t quite dare to chime in.
Wen Zeli threw down a pair of bombs, leaning back against the armrest, chin propped on his hand, his long narrow eyes settling on Shen Lin and Shen Xuan.
He kicked Shen Lin lightly.
“What do you call your sister?”
Shen Lin glanced at him. “Xuan-mèi.”
Wen Zeli: “Oh?”
Xuan-mèi.
Probably too nervous to just say “little sister” outright, so he’d tacked her name onto it instead?
After dinner.
The newlyweds left the Shen household — the sun had been blazing when they arrived, and now the moon hung high. Under the family’s watchful eyes, the black Range Rover started up, and Shen Xuan settled once again into the back seat.
Shen Xiaoquan watched his daughter climb into the back, the clear distance between her and Wen Zeli plain to see.
His brow furrowed.
Then he let out a sigh.
The car pulled through the gate; streetlights flickered on outside, casting light across the pavement and sliding gently over the car’s body. Wen Zeli rolled up the window and glanced at the rearview mirror.
Teasing, “Guess I’ve become your chauffeur.”
The woman sat in the back seat, her expression giving off the distinct impression she was heading into a negotiation.
Shen Xuan looked away, then met his eyes in the mirror, neither of them flinching. She said flatly, “Would you rather sit in back? I’ll drive.”
Wen Zeli laughed loudly, eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp as a wolf’s in the dark. He let the laughter fade, reached up, and adjusted the mirror away. “Wouldn’t dare.”
Shen Xuan looked away, out at the passing scenery.
That night, the car pulled up at the villa; Shen Xuan got out and went inside. Wen Zeli turned the car around and drove off, not returning all night. Shen Xuan didn’t bother asking about it.
Only the next morning.
Mo Tian sent her daughter a message, chatting casually, and asked in passing.
“Did Wen Zeli sleep at home last night?”
Shen Xuan, eating breakfast, paused. “No.”
Mo Tian went quiet for a moment.
After a while, she sent another message: “Have you ever been to that apartment of his at Tower 188?”
“No.”
Mo Tian fell silent again.
So he’d probably gone back to that apartment instead — the one the Lan family’s daughter had visited before. Even after getting married, he was still staying there? What exactly did that mean?
Mo Tian sighed.
Shen Xuan wiped her mouth with a tissue. “Mom, I’m heading to the office.”
Mo Tian came back to herself. “Okay.”
Back at the office, Shen Xuan had Chang Xue bring over Chengsheng’s financial statements; Chang Xue walked over and lowered the blinds first, to keep the staff outside from peering in.
“Director Shen.” Chang Xue returned to the desk.
Chengsheng had been founded three years ago, mainly dealing in mortgage lending; its cash flow had always been fairly stable, but something about the recent project figures didn’t add up.
“Do these few transactions look off to you?”
Shen Xuan closed the ledger, moving the mouse to check the software on screen. Wen Zeli’s sudden purchase of Chengsheng shares had to mean he’d heard something. She let go of the mouse and asked Chang Xue, “Do we have any spare staff we could use?”
Chang Xue paused.
“I’ll go check.”
Shen Xuan nodded.
That afternoon, Shen Xuan headed to Chengsheng with Chang Xue and a young male accountant — a junior colleague of Chang Xue’s, recently joined at Shen Group, still an intern.
Meanwhile.
Wen Zeli was also at Chengsheng, holding a meeting — he too had been placing his own people within the company. Chengsheng’s president, faced with major shareholders inserting their own staff, felt utterly helpless but had no choice but to accept it.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
The whole room looked up.
Shen Xuan stood in the doorway, dressed in a white chiffon blouse and black A-line skirt, poised and elegant, her striking face as icy as ever. “Am I interrupting your meeting?”
Chengsheng’s president startled, then stood with a smile. “Not at all, Director Wen and I were just discussing something…”
Shen Xuan nodded and walked in on her heels, her eyes meeting Wen Zeli’s. He toyed with a pen, pushing his chair back slightly, raising an eyebrow at her.
Shen Xuan sat down, having the young accountant take the seat beside her.
Wen Zeli’s gaze shifted briefly, landing on the young man’s face. Right after, he heard Shen Xuan say to Chengsheng’s president, “There’s going to be some restructuring on the management side soon. I have a special assistant here I’d like to send over for some hands-on experience — he’s still young, so I’d appreciate you looking after him.”
Chengsheng’s president froze.
A special assistant?
And a male one, no less?
He instinctively glanced at Wen Zeli, the husband in question.
Wen Zeli said nothing, still watching from across the room.
He watched Shen Xuan tap her fingers lightly on the young accountant’s desk, leaning over to say something to him — her profile catching the light, hair falling loose, her brow drawn in fine, delicate lines.
The young accountant stared at her, dazed, then scrambled to his feet in a fluster, ears and cheeks flushing red.
Red!
Bright red!
Watching this unfold.
The phone on Wen Zeli’s desk buzzed.
He glanced at it.
A message from Chengsheng’s president: “Director Wen, is that your wife’s lover?”