Chapter 2: Ordering Male Models for the Wife  

Wen Li’s mind went blank, overwhelmed by the embarrassment of being caught badmouthing someone right to their face.  

After freezing for a long moment, she stiffly turned her head and scanned the room. At the center of the adjacent table sat a person both familiar and unfamiliar, raising a glass toward her with unmistakable intent.  

The inscrutable emotion in Shen An’s eyes filled Wen Li with despair.  

*Ding*—another message popped up in the chat: **”Ten seconds. Or I’ll have someone carry you over.”**  

By the time she stood before Shen An, the air itself felt suffocating.  

His gaze was like still, sunken water, yet his expression was icy, silently watching her without a word.  

Only then did Wen Li realize where that penetrating stare had come from when she first entered the bar—she’d been spotted long ago.  

Clutching her glass, she stood frozen, unsure whether to step forward or retreat, let alone how to break the silence. Should she just say, *”Hey, long time no see?”*  

The standoff lasted until Zhou Zhuan, ever the perceptive one, stepped in to defuse the tension: **”Sis-in-law, you should’ve told us you were coming! What’d you order? It’s on the house.”**  

Shen An suddenly smirked. **”She ordered male models. Go ahead, comp that.”**  

Zhou Zhuan wanted to slap himself. *How the hell was he supposed to comp that?* Did he even dare? Order male models for his brother’s wife right in front of him?  

He’d be lucky to leave this bar without being thrown into the ocean as shark bait.  

Forcing a laugh, Zhou Zhuan pretended he’d never spoken, standing up to offer his seat. **”Sis-in-law, take my spot.”**  

He practically shoved Wen Li next to Shen An before squeezing himself into the crowd.  

Wen Li nearly toppled onto Shen An from the force but desperately steadied herself, careful not to touch the fragile young master.  

Her obvious avoidance only darkened Shen An’s expression further. **”You didn’t seem so reluctant to get close to those male models earlier.”**  

Given that they were legally bound by a marriage certificate, she had to admit—ordering male models behind her husband’s back *was* her fault. She felt the need to clarify: **”Chen Qiao invited me. I thought it was just drinks—I didn’t know there’d be male models.”**  

**”Chen Qiao? Where is she?”** Shen An scoffed, tilting his chin toward Wen Li’s original table.  

Wen Li looked over—Chen Qiao was long gone, faster than a rabbit, leaving only the four male models grinning at her.  

**”Uh… Didn’t you say I should toast you? Welcome back.”** Wen Li pivoted swiftly, raising her glass to change the subject.  

Shen An gave her a sidelong glance but humored her, clinking his glass—filled with milk—against hers before taking a leisurely sip.  

Wen Li nearly choked on her wine. *Fantastic.* Drinking milk in a nightclub. Truly fitting for the famously sickly young master—prioritizing health above all.  

**”Dr. Wen, you’re amazing,”** Shen An drawled sarcastically. **”Ordering male models while your husband’s away. If I hadn’t run into you tonight, would there have been a next step?”** He paused, feigning realization. **”Did I ruin your fun?”**  

Mortified, Wen Li downed another glass of red.  

Shen An didn’t stop her, pressing on: **”Were the male models handsome?”**  

Her cheeks flushed, and even with her tolerance, the alcohol had left her slightly tipsy, giving her a dazed, earnest look as she answered: **”Not even a fraction as good-looking as you.”**

Wen Li wasn’t exaggerating. Although Shen An was notoriously known as a sickly person, his looks were undeniably exceptional. In any gathering he attended, no one could outshine him.

Perhaps due to the alcohol, Wen Li spoke more freely and added, “Your looks are truly magical—one moment they’re high, the next even higher. It’s like you’ve gotten even more handsome compared to over a year ago.”

Back when the Wen family forced her into the substitute marriage over a year ago, she had seen Shen An once and consoled herself: if nothing else, just for his looks alone, it was absolutely worth it.

Shen An stared at her as if she were a ghost spouting nonsense. Though they weren’t very familiar, based on their two prior meetings, he had assumed she was the aloof type. He never expected her to be so skilled at flattery.

Wen Li didn’t want to flatter him either, but she was the one at fault—she was the one who got caught hiring male models on the spot.

Seeing that the couple had “caught up” enough, the others finally chimed in with greetings.

Though she had become the laughingstock of high society gossip after over a year of marriage, Shen An’s close friends had always treated her quite well.

Especially Zhou Zhuan, who frequently hovered around her—so much so that colleagues once mistook him for her husband.

While Wen Li drank with the others, he sipped from a milk cup beside her, completely unfazed by how out of place he seemed.

It wasn’t until someone’s stomach growled nearby that he finally set his cup down and glanced at his wristwatch with feigned concern. “It’s getting late. I should head out.”

“It’s barely past a few drinks, and you’re already leaving? We hardly ever get together like this,” Zhou Zhuan protested. It had been ages since they’d all gathered like this.

“We’ll meet another day. There’s plenty of time—it’s not like I’m dying tomorrow,” Shen An said casually, his indifferent attitude toward life and death darkening the expressions of everyone at the table.

“With Brother Shen around, cut the gloomy talk,” Zhou Zhuan said, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a sternness Wen Li had never seen before.

Ye Shen nodded in agreement. “That’s right. With me here, even the King of Hell won’t dare take you.”

Realizing he’d said something the others disliked, Shen An kicked Zhou Zhuan lightly. “Enough nonsense. Put tonight on my tab.”

“Don’t bother. I’m not short on money for drinks,” Zhou Zhuan muttered, still sulking.

“I meant the bill for that table of male models,” Shen An retorted, glancing back at Wen Li, who was slightly tipsy. “No reason for you to pay for the male models my wife ordered.”

Wen Li wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t recognize sarcasm. She cursed inwardly: *What a jerk—utterly shameless.*