Chapter 8: Speak Up, What’s Not Working?

“What?” Shen Qingci replied, pulling the blanket over herself.

“Know your limits!” Xi Xingye finally lost his patience.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking. I advise you to drop it…”

Seeing Shen Qingci remain unresponsive, Xi Xingye’s temper flared again. “I’ve already given way so many times, but the last step—absolutely not!”

He had just finished speaking when Shen Qingci moved.

Her jet-black eyes opened, glanced at him, then she lifted the blanket and sat up.

Slowly, she reached out her hand toward him.

“Why not?”

Xi Xingye instantly held his breath.

Shen Qingci had changed into a silk nightgown, her long hair flowing freely. Her small, delicate face, flawless skin, seemed to glow.

Suddenly, a wave of heat surged from his waist along his spine, making his face flush and body stiff—he dared not move an inch.

“Speak up—what’s not working?”

Shen Qingci pressed closer, her slender legs nudging him. “Is it you who can’t, or me?”

She drew nearer.

Her scent invaded, subtly drifting into Xi Xingye’s nose.

Her fingers traced along his cheek, slowly wrapping around him.

Xi Xingye felt all the blood in his body rush to one place, yet he couldn’t move.

For a moment, he even thought of surrendering, letting those crimson lips kiss him…

“Click.”

The air conditioner turned on.

Shen Qingci, standing behind him with the remote, shot a teasing glance at his blanket. “Not doing so badly, huh?”

“You—how shameless can you be!” Xi Xingye erupted in anger.

So she had just grabbed the remote!

Just as he was about to lose it, Shen Qingci tossed another comment over: “The bedroom’s fine, you go to the guest room.”

Xi Xingye felt like punching a pillow—his anger had nowhere to go.

He got off the bed, taking his blanket and pillow, and stormed into the guest room.

The room was empty and quiet, yet he still couldn’t sleep.

Meanwhile, Shen Qingci’s sleep was restless too.

In fact, she hadn’t slept well in three years.

Three years ago, she had died in the apocalyptic war, and when she opened her eyes again, she had become this weak, powerless Shen Qingci.

Perhaps due to once again gripping a gun, she dreamt of her last battle with her team—

The ruined city, the zombie roars, and Song Qi protecting her at the final moment…

When she woke up, it was still the middle of the night.

Shen Qingci sat quietly on the bed for a moment before getting up for water.

Passing through the living room on her way to the kitchen, she noticed a blurry figure.

Focusing, she realized Xi Xingye was squatting at the doorway, talking to something.

It was the old, removed door.

The dim moonlight through the glass cast him in a lonely, melancholic silhouette.

This was completely different from the Xi Xingye she knew.

After looking at him twice, she finished her water, put down the cup, and returned to her bedroom.

The next morning at eight, a lavish breakfast was laid out on the table.

Noodles, crystal dumplings, xiaolongbao, steak, sandwiches, and fruits—a fusion of East and West, astonishingly abundant.

There was even a carved radish swan on the plate.

She looked up.

The servants stood in a straight line, heads held high, eyes forward, as if in drill training—none dared to glance at her.

Shen Qingci quickly finished eating and was about to go upstairs when the butler arrived with a wedding gift.

She opened it to find an entire apartment, located in the city center.

“This is…?” she asked.

“You deserve it, please accept it,” the butler insisted firmly.

Last night, the old master had rushed to the entertainment city. Though he had missed the climax, he had laughed in his dreams three times recalling the event from the servants’ vivid description.

If not restrained, he would have transferred all five properties and eight companies under his name to the young mistress!

Shen Qingci accepted it without refusing—after all, everything would return during the divorce anyway.

After seeing the butler to the door, she noticed a drag mark on the floor; the servants were cleaning it, and the discarded door was gone.

She later learned that Xi Xingye had ordered it stored in the warehouse.

The butler explained, “Madam, you didn’t know—the door originally belonged to the late madam. Young master loved it dearly, but the carvings were damaged, and he insisted on not letting anyone remove it.”

Shen Qingci paused, recalling the figure squatting before the old door.

So that was it.

After the butler left, she returned to her study to continue organizing company files, working until dinner.

When she came downstairs, Xi Xingye surprisingly returned home, glanced at her, and passed by without a word.

“Wait,” Shen Qingci said, pulling out a chair. “Give me the warehouse key.”

Xi Xingye instinctively wanted to refuse.

The words were at his lips, but he swallowed them, took the key from his pocket, and tossed it over.

Shen Qingci didn’t say anything else, leaving only a “Thanks,” and turned to leave.

Watching her confident back, Xi Xingye grew angrier, kicked a nearby cobblestone, and stormed upstairs.

At his mother’s shrine, Xi Xingye lit incense and respectfully kowtowed three times.

In the black-and-white photo, his mother’s smile was still gentle and beautiful.

He took out a neatly kept marriage certificate.

“Mom, I got married—it was arranged by the old man,” he said, his voice trailing off, slightly pitiful.

Suppressing his emotions, his frustration turned to anger.

“But! Mom, you don’t know how—overbearing—this woman is!!”

He vented his indignation at the shrine, listing Shen Qingci’s “crimes”:

She was arrogant and rude.

She was crude and ignorant, slaughtering a chicken in public.

Finally, she damaged the door his mother loved!

“I must divorce her!”

At that moment, one of the incense sticks tilted.

Xi Xingye quickly reached out to support it.

Hot ash fell onto the back of his hand.

“Ah!”

It burned!

He looked at his reddened hand, then at his mother’s photo, voice tinged with excitement:

“Mom, you agree I should divorce her, right? Just wait—I’ll divorce her sooner or later!”

Excited, he went downstairs, grabbed the key, and prepared to leave.

The butler chased after him, “Young master, you can’t stay out all night! You must return—young mistress will be angry!”

“Shut up!” Xi Xingye snapped, leaving.

The roaring pink sports car disappeared into the distance.

Outside the Shen Yuan company building, a roaring motorcycle stopped at the entrance.

Shen Qingci removed her helmet, glancing up at the towering building.

In less than half a year, the building’s exterior ads had already aged, even the main entrance was littered with trash.

Walking in, with no security or reception, Shen Qingci made her way unhindered to the administrative floor.

The entire office was empty.

Clearly, someone was trying to intimidate her.

A cold glint flashed in her eyes as she made a call.

After a long wait, her younger sister Shen Shirou’s sweet voice answered:

“Oh! Sorry, sis, I completely forgot today’s the handover day with you!”