The Disliked Shou and the Charming Gong : Chapter 35: Wen Junhe Was of Course in a Hurry

Wen Junhe’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he asked, “Can we?”

He Ning’s gaze flickered for a moment, dropping to the floor before bouncing back up. His lashes cast tiny fragmented shadows under the overhead light, and the corners of his mouth pulled into an uncertain curve. “I… I guess so.”

Wen Junhe smiled. “Is it a yes or a no?”

He Ning was shy.

The camera’s red light glowed, silently devouring the scene.

They clearly weren’t used to being captured on film yet.

The composition in the viewfinder was broken from time to time, figures drifting at the edges like two fish testing the water’s surface.

The desk made a faint creaking sound. They moved to the dark corner beyond the camera’s reach, but the next second they tumbled back into frame.

The lens occasionally only caught half a silhouette. He Ning’s shoulders tensed and trembled, as if struck repeatedly by an invisible current, his fingertips leaving several pale marks where they gripped the edge of the desk.

It wasn’t until the camera emitted a low battery warning that Wen Junhe finally collapsed, his back’s lines rising and falling under the light as if all support had been drained from him.

He Ning was entirely nestled in his arms, his breathing still uneven, his disheveled hair rubbing against the side of Wen Junhe’s neck. Wen Junhe’s nose was almost pressed against his, his voice hoarse as if squeezed from deep in his throat: “…What are you thinking about now?” Wen Junhe’s movements were practiced to the point of instinct, his knuckles sliding with gathered force, every motion fitting seamlessly into He Ning’s preferences. All these years of learning each other’s steps had ultimately been forged into a set of commands that only worked on He Ning.

He Ning’s breathing was deep and ragged, his whole body steaming with damp heat, his bangs stuck wetly to his reddened eye corners. His eyes were half closed, his pupils so unfocused they could barely gather into focus. If it weren’t for Wen Junhe holding him, he would have slid down like someone whose bones had been removed.

He was born to be sunk into bedding, his skin flushed with passion, his neck to his collarbone stained with thin sweat, even his fingertips carrying a lazy energy, as if as long as someone was willing to give him a hug, he could just keep melting away like this.

Wen Junhe’s face was exceptionally handsome, his skin like white jade, his brows and eyes calm as a painting. Anyone who saw him would think he was refined and proper. But his build and his manner were completely at odds with that face, so fierce that He Ning had to bite the back of his hand every time to stop himself from cursing out loud.

He was gentle now though, his lips pressed against He Ning’s sweat-damp temples, coaxing him over and over with “Ningning” and “baby,” his voice so low it could wring water from it.

“I was so happy today.”

He Ning lay there listening to these tender words and only felt annoyed. Wen Junhe was happy, but he wasn’t.

When He Ning woke, the morning light was slanting across the nightstand, making that velvet box impossible to miss.

He reached out and opened it. It was that ring, the one he had chosen himself back then.

As for the one between him and Zhou Ji, it had already been sent back to Zhou Ji by Wen Junhe.

He slowly pulled on a white sweater. When he went downstairs, he smelled the fresh savory aroma drifting from the kitchen. Wen Junhe stood at the stove, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing well defined forearms, stirring a pot of bubbling seafood congee with a wooden spoon. He Ning wrapped his arms around Wen Junhe’s waist from behind, his chin resting on his shoulder blade, his voice still fuzzy from just waking up: “So hungry, Wen Junhe.”

Wen Junhe looked down at the hands circling his waist. That ring was sitting steadily on He Ning’s ring finger, the platinum band catching tiny flashes of light in the morning sun.

He didn’t stop stirring the congee, but the corners of his mouth couldn’t help curving upward: “It’ll be ready soon.”

Wen Junhe gently stirred the congee in the bowl with his spoon and suddenly said that he could squeeze out a few days off next week, and after registering they could still spend three or four days playing around Europe.

He Ning’s chopsticks paused for a moment, and he mumbled, “Ah, there’s no need for that.”

Wen Junhe wasn’t anxious either, methodically picking up food and putting it in his bowl: “Then let’s go get it notarized.”

It was clear this matter was not up for discussion.

Wen Junhe set down his chopsticks, his voice dropping a few degrees: “Or do you still mind, thinking I’m not someone you can trust your life to.”

He Ning vaguely responded with “No, it’s not that.”

Wen Junhe said, “Then you just don’t want to be with me long term.”

He Ning said no, he just thought it was too rushed.

Wen Junhe was of course in a hurry.

This relationship had been ground out step by step by him, from persistent pestering to moving in together, and now only the final paperwork remained. He stared at He Ning’s profile, his Adam’s apple moving, forcibly swallowing back what he wanted to say next.

Until a few days later, one deep night, He Ning woke in the middle of the night to find the space beside him empty, a red glow coming from the balcony.

Wen Junhe was leaning against the railing smoking.

He Ning asked him what was wrong.

Wen Junhe stubbed out the cigarette, giving a bitter smile: “I just can’t sleep. I feel like I’ve lived too much of a failure. You’ll never trust me, will you.”

“I know I’m too impatient, but I’m really scared of losing you again.”

He Ning looked at Wen Junhe’s lost and soulless appearance, yet with a rare vulnerability showing through, and his heart softened: “Alright, let’s go get the certificate.”

The day after He Ning relented, Wen Junhe booked tickets for the next available flight, his efficiency making it seem like he was afraid someone would change their mind.

Once all the procedures were completed, Wen Junhe couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth down. For the next few days he packed their honeymoon schedule full, from morning beach walks to late night rooftop restaurants, as if trying to make up for all the romance they had missed over the years in one go.

By the third day, He Ning couldn’t take it anymore.

He lay sprawled on the hotel’s large bed, two down pillows stuffed behind his lower back, watching Wen Junhe full of energy asking to stay a few more days, and finally couldn’t help saying: “Let’s go back home.”

He Ning turned his face away, thinking Wen Junhe was really too worked up.

When the secretary pushed open the door carrying documents, she happened to hear Wen Junhe frowning at the computer screen. Then this boss, who had always been decisive and efficient, suddenly asked an unexpected question: “Secretary Dai, how do you balance family and career?”

Before the secretary could organize her thoughts, Wen Junhe was already turning the ring on his ring finger and tossed out a bombshell in a flat tone: “I got married, last week.”

The secretary’s congratulations came out somewhat dazed. So last week when Wen Junhe took leave, he had gone to get married.

Wen Junhe suddenly became chatty, unusually saying a few more words of post marriage reflections, his words carrying a sense of freshness, like a child who had just gotten a new toy.

Only when the secretary hesitantly asked if they should keep it confidential did his expression sober.

“After all, Mr. He…”

Wen Junhe: “Confidential? No need. His meaning is don’t make it too high profile, but I think this is a happy occasion, right.”

The secretary was indeed someone who could read expressions and situations, understanding with just one glance.

A happy occasion, what’s the point of hiding it? Everyone should share in the joy.

That evening at the drinking gathering, Wen Junhe politely pushed away the glass held out to him: “The one at home doesn’t let me drink too much.”

The smugness at the corners of his brows couldn’t be hidden at all.

Someone casually asked when it happened, and Wen Junhe immediately picked up the thread: “Mm, just got married last week.”

Congratulations immediately rose and fell around him. Wen Junhe raised his teacup and accepted them.

He Ning was carrying a limited edition coat around the store, his fingers repeatedly stroking the cashmere fabric. The cut was clean, the fit structured, the dark gray making the wearer look steady and distinguished. The shop assistant said this was the last one. He could already picture Wen Junhe wearing it in his mind, but worried the shoulder line wouldn’t fit just right.

This place happened to be not far from Wen Junhe’s company, so he asked if he had time to come try it on.

On the other end of the phone, Wen Junhe said: “I can’t get away, why don’t you come over?”

There was still someone reporting in the background. He Ning knew the quarterly meeting was one everyone had to attend.

The store manager timely suggested bringing the clothes over to try on. He Ning hesitated two seconds, then still took the garment bag and went out.

He walked to the company.

The receptionist didn’t make things difficult for him at all, but instead politely escorted him to the executive elevator, swiping the card in one smooth motion: “President Wen is on the 28th floor, this elevator goes straight there.”

He Ning was startled: “You know me?”

The girl smiled just right: “Important family members of leadership are all on file. Happy newlyweds.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Wen Junhe came out during a meeting break and smoothly put on that coat. The shoulder lines were accentuated by the cut to look even more upright, the waistline cinched just right, even the sleeve length was exactly right.

He Ning reached out to help him straighten the collar, and when his fingertips brushed his chin, he suddenly remembered something: “How does everyone at your company’s front desk know me?”

Wen Junhe let him fuss, his expression not changing at all: “Probably mentioned it once to the secretary.”

He looked down at He Ning’s fingers buttoning the coat: “As a result, the whole company knows now.”

He Ning’s hands paused: “The whole company?”

“Mm, too gossipy. Should I warn them?”

He Ning said no need: “Forget it, it’s normal for people to be curious. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.”

Besides, he had already resigned. Whatever they said, he couldn’t hear it anyway.

Wen Junhe nodded: “I’ll listen to you.”

Later there was one time when He Ning was photographed. It was a photo of him and Wen Junhe kissing in the car.

The reason the heat kept soaring was because of He Ning’s awkward identity. After all, his last marriage had been quite a spectacle, and the divorce had been equally low key, not publicly announced. Plus with Wen Junhe’s label attached, as a new elite returned from overseas who was handsome, he had attracted quite a bit of attention for a while.

So when He Ning saw the passionate photo of him and Wen Junhe on the front page, it came with an extremely eye catching and explosive headline. The keywords had to do with wealthy family marriage upheaval, a lonely husband’s late night secret rendezvous with a lover. Even He Ning didn’t know how it could blow up this big.

When Wen Junhe saw it, his expression was hard to read.

“I’m not the lover.”

At first listen, his tone even carried a bit of grievance.

He Ning looked at Wen Junhe’s tense expression, thinking that you certainly aren’t the lover now, you’re clearly the lover who got promoted to official status. These words circled at the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them back. Now was clearly not the time for teasing.

Wen Junhe was already flipping through his lawyer’s number. He Ning asked if he was really going to sue.

“They can insult me all they want, but they can’t say that about you. I’m the one being immoral. It has nothing to do with you.”

Only then did He Ning realize how much this mattered to Wen Junhe. He reached up to touch the back of Wen Junhe’s neck and explained: “Zhou Ji and I back then were just going through the motions. There was no real marriage.”

Wen Junhe’s pupils contracted slightly, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the edge of his phone, staring fixedly at He Ning: “You’re serious?”

He Ning had just nodded when Wen Junhe had already swiped open his contacts and switched accounts.

He Ning went to block his wrist: “Who are you calling now?”

Before the words finished, he was grabbed by the back of the head and kissed, Wen Junhe’s canine tooth knocking against his lower lip with fierce force: “Making it public. We’re legally registered, completely legal.”

Thinking back now, it was simply absurd. Wen Junhe had originally felt a bit sorry toward Zhou Ji, but now he was the one who had been played for a fool.

He Ning pressed hang up before he could connect.

He called Zhou Ji and discussed how to handle it with him. Wen Junhe’s expression was thoroughly displeased.

The moment He Ning finished the call, Wen Junhe pressed him down and said: “We’ll go back and slowly settle the score about you lying to me.”

In the end, Zhou’s side issued a statement, and Wen Junhe’s side immediately followed with one as well, which shattered the entertainment reporters’ speculative guesses.

Outside, rumors flew everywhere, saying what kind of ability did this former high official’s son have, to make one promising young man after another fall for him.

Since He Ning had nothing to do at home and had become obsessed with fashion design, the living room was piled full of fabric and sample garments. The golden retriever Wen Junhe gave him became a ready made model. He Ning coaxed it every day with “good boy” and “baby,” changing outfits for this ball of fur more diligently than picking clothes for himself.

When Wen Junhe came home from work, there were always several pieces of fabric with paw prints scattered across the entrance.

He Ning dressed it up in all kinds of little clothes every day, calling it good boy and baby. Every time Wen Junhe came home, he felt he couldn’t even set foot inside. He Ning carried that little thing even onto his bed. Later, Wen Junhe couldn’t even get angry anymore, thinking that bringing it back for He Ning’s amusement had been a mistake, and now he had to share even half the bed.

One day He Ning was bent over looking for the dog under the sofa, calling out “good boy” over and over, soft and sweet.

Wen Junhe passed by, a cold snort escaping his nose, his slippers tapping impatiently on the floor. He Ning straightened up and hooked his waist, his fingers slipping into his clothes to tickle his sensitive spots: “Why so jealous? What are you fussing with a little dog for?”

When He Ning looked up laughing, his lashes fluttered, clearly writing “I’m coaxing you.”

Wen Junhe: “Am I good?”

He Ning nodded.

Wen Junhe suddenly gripped his waist and lifted him up. He Ning was caught off guard and straddled his hip bones, his slippers slapping onto the floor.

Wen Junhe looked up and bit his Adam’s apple: “Then think about how long it’s been since you fulfilled your obligations.”

As he spoke, his palm was already sliding along the edge of He Ning’s lounge pants, his fingertips circling at the small of his back.

He Ning clutched his shoulders and laughed out loud. Just as he was about to give in, the dog ran out from somewhere, learning from He Ning to climb Wen Junhe’s leg, thinking they were playing.

He Ning: “Wen Junhe, put me down!” Wen Junhe looked at the golden retriever’s innocent little bean eyes: “…I’m throwing you out sooner or later.”

He Ning covered Wen Junhe’s mouth: “How can you say such cruel things to it? It’s still just a few months old baby. Apologize to it.”

Wen Junhe: “…Sorry.”

Golden Retriever Good Boy: “Woof.”