Chapter 11 – The Drunken Man’s Grievance

Qin Suining hesitated for a while, but in the end, curiosity won over doubt—she nodded.

She had always been outgoing and lively, not the cling-to-mama type.

Shuhui rubbed her little head, then instructed Liu Ma to take her to the main house. Since Lian Minfang wanted to see her granddaughter, Shuhui wouldn’t stop her.

Besides, when it came to registering the child’s household status, she would still need Lian Minfang’s help.

After the little girl left, the TV was turned off, and silence returned. Shuhui lowered her head and continued rushing through her draft.

The deadline was tonight. Some details still needed adjusting.

She had graduated from Beijing University with a degree in civil engineering, though she had also taken elective courses in interior design.

Yes…

And upon graduating, she had switched fields altogether.

Back in university, her original illustrations had already gained some popularity on Weibo.

Over the years, more and more people came to commission her, the prices kept rising, yet even so, her inbox was flooded with requests like snowflakes.

The year she discovered she was pregnant with Ningning, she stopped submitting résumés as a new graduate.

She became a full-time illustrator, earning well—but the lack of inspiration and feel could be exhausting.

Like now. The cover draft was nearly finished, but no matter how she tweaked the details, something still felt off.

Frustrated, she raked her fingers through her hair, then collapsed flat on the rug, wishing she could just chew her tablet to pieces.

When inspiration failed… she always wanted to saw wood.

The door lock clicked again.

Shuhui thought Liu Ma had returned. Without turning, she called, “Did you forget something? And don’t feed Ningning—let her eat on her own. Even if she’s slow, it doesn’t matter.”

No response came.

The sound of leather shoes pressed heavy against the floor.

Shuhui rolled over and looked up—only to see the man who hadn’t appeared for nearly a month.

Tall, lean, with a shadowed gaze laced faintly with drunkenness. Without the coldness, his eyes were unexpectedly captivating.

Too bad Shuhui had no time to appreciate. She sprang up, fanning her nose with her hand in distaste. The stench of alcohol was suffocating.

Efficiently, she urged, “Hurry, change shoes and go shower.”

Trailing behind, clutching documents, Special Assistant Zhang rushed in. The moment he saw Shuhui, he bowed deeply.

“Madam, President Qin drank all through lunch until now. Please take care of him. If possible, he should drink some hangover soup…”

Shuhui cut him off immediately, horrified. “No way. Take him away—quickly!”

She pushed at the silent man beside her.

“Assistant Zhang, take him to the main house for hangover soup. I can’t cook, and I’m not taking care of him.”

A joke—she hadn’t set foot in a kitchen even in her past life, when she was the most downtrodden. Otherwise, Lian Minfang would’ve been poisoned long ago.

“Madam, please, I really must trouble you. I’ll leave the files here. The secretarial office still has things to handle. Forgive me.” With another deep bow, Assistant Zhang fled faster than a rabbit.

“Hey—” Shuhui called, but he was already gone.

Left with an immovable “iron pillar,” she couldn’t push Qin Yushen at all.

“You’re not leaving? Fine, do what you want. But don’t expect me to make hangover soup—you know I don’t know how.”

“I didn’t know.”

His voice was hoarse, roughened by liquor. He bypassed her and sat heavily on the sofa, neither sleepy nor drunk-crazy—just silently staring at the iPad draft on the floor.

Shuhui had slipped up, letting words from her past life spill. But since he was drunk, she shrugged it off.

“Well, now you know.”

She scooped up the iPad, sat cross-legged back on the rug, and continued drawing. They were close enough to feel the lingering aura of alcohol.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she scooted further away.

Then his voice broke the silence.

“Shuhui.”

“What?”

She didn’t look up, pen gliding on the screen, her slender fingers tapping, the glow outlining her delicate chin. Beautiful.

“That night—I’ve continued investigating. I was drugged before you walked into that private room. I hadn’t found the truth, and rashly blamed you. That was my mistake. I’m sorry.”

Shuhui lifted her head, startled.

These were words she had heard in her past life—two years after registering their marriage. But this time, so early?

Though puzzled, she still nodded. “Good. Knowing you were wrong means you can be taught.”

Qin Yushen: “…”

He set a black velvet jewelry box on the coffee table.

Shuhui glanced at it. “What’s this?”

She opened it—first thing to catch her eye was a diamond necklace, large and dazzling, casting fiery rainbows. A full set, with matching earrings and bracelet.

The design was chic and youthful. Somehow it felt familiar. She tilted her head for a closer look.

In a low voice, Qin Yushen explained: “The international business chamber will be hosting in Hong Kong soon. At the opening banquet… Grandpa said you should accompany me.”

A light cough. “He prepared this, to match your gown.”

Ah. Now she remembered.

In her past life, Qin Huaxi—the Qin family’s Fifth Miss—had worn this very necklace. Studying abroad in the UK, she had brought it back during a holiday, cherishing it dearly, boasting it was from her big brother.

Shuhui cast him a sidelong glance. He reclined into the sofa, half-lidded eyes locking onto hers. With slicked-back hair and a tipsy face, he looked every bit the charming rake.

This man never spoke the truth. Impossible to read.

“Grandpa said you should accompany me to the banquet,” he repeated.

She snapped the box shut. “Got it.”

“…”

This woman spoke even less than he did.

Wasn’t she supposed to have poor health, always drinking herbal medicine? And yet she sat on the cold floor without care.

Looking around, Qin Yushen rose to adjust the central air system of the villa.

“I’ll go upstairs to wash up.”

He left. Shuhui gave no reply, already buried in her work, drawing deep into the night.

Time slipped by—eight-thirty.

“Grandpa, Grandma, I’ll play again next time!”

Little Qin Suining’s voice rang cheerfully.

Lian Minfang hugged her tightly, reluctant to let go. “Ningning, stay here tonight. Sleep with Grandma.”

“Mm…” The child shook her head. “Mama misses me… I sleep with Mama.”

Her vocabulary was small, but her meaning was clear.

Still, Lian Minfang held her again before letting servants escort her back.

“Nothing left behind? That wooden chest is also for Ningning—make sure it’s carried over.” Lian Minfang checked carefully.

Auntie Wang’s eyes glinted shrewdly. She stepped forward.

“Madam, let me take care of it. I’ll send the little miss back to the Bamboo Pavilion myself. I’ll make sure nothing’s missing.”

Lian Minfang glanced at her, about to agree—but changed her mind.

“No. Shuhui doesn’t like you. If you go to the Bamboo Pavilion, you’ll only be an eyesore.”

She had spent all night turning it over in her mind. That eldest daughter-in-law—Shuhui—wasn’t one to be easily bullied or fooled.

Besides, her husband had said: that incident back then, Yushen was still investigating. They couldn’t just blame Shuhui outright.

So now, Lian Minfang dared not provoke her. If Shuhui, out of anger at Auntie Wang, refused to let Ningning get close to her anymore, who could she complain to?

Auntie Wang’s face crumpled in grievance. She hurried to explain:

“Madam, I was really just muddle-headed that day. I misread the time and went to the Bamboo Pavilion too early, offending the Young Madam. I’ve already apologized! You can’t stop trusting me. I’ve served you for nearly thirty years…”

---