After The Beautiful Drama Queen’s Marriage To The Wealthy Tycoon - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Acting Spoiled

Late summer nights were still thick with sweltering air. The driver pulled directly into the club’s private underground parking lot.

As soon as Qi Hanchuan stepped out of the car, he saw Xie Yunting and Pei Mingxuan standing nearby, seemingly waiting for him.

Pei Mingxuan’s legs were shaking so hard he couldn’t speak; he kept casting desperate, pleading looks at Xie Yunting. He truly hadn’t noticed Jiang He’s arrival earlier—if he had known, he certainly would have blocked the entrance.

Xie Yunting looked at Qi Hanchuan’s grim face and stepped forward with a smile. “Relax. Your wife’s private room has been cleared. It’s just him and his friend in there now.”

Qi Hanchuan remained expressionless. “Where?”

“Room 203,” Pei Mingxuan stammered.

Qi Hanchuan didn’t say another word and walked straight inside.

Pei Mingxuan watched his retreating back, his legs finally giving out as he slumped against Xie Yunting. “He… he scared the life out of me.”

“Pathetic,” Xie Yunting shoved him off with a look of disdain. “Is Qi Hanchuan going to eat people?”

Pei Mingxuan laughed awkwardly. “Young Master Xie, you don’t understand.” Xie Yunting had been out of the country for years and had no idea what Qi Hanchuan was capable of. The man didn’t eat people, but he had plenty of ways to make sure their remains were never found.

“I really don’t understand,” Xie Yunting turned to follow Qi Hanchuan. “Come on, let’s see if that block of ice actually knows how to coax a male wife with soft words.”

Jiang He was severely drunk. He was currently sprawled across the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling while ignoring the “demonic” singing echoing in his ears.

Fang Zhiyi finally grew tired of singing. He tossed the microphone aside and collapsed directly on top of Jiang He.

“Ah!” Jiang He let out a strange cry as he was flattened. He pushed and complained, “Fang Zhiyi, are you trying to crush me? There’s so much space next to me, go lie over there!”

Fang Zhiyi remained as immovable as a mountain, acting foolishly: “No… Xiao He is soft. It’s comfortable here.”

Drunk Jiang He didn’t have much of a temper. Feeling suffocated, he grabbed a handful of Fang Zhiyi’s hair. “Stop crushing me!”

Fang Zhiyi was even more wasted than Jiang He. He grabbed Jiang He’s hand, his face contorted. “Ow! Xiao He is so mean… let go of my hair!”

When Qi Hanchuan pushed the door open, he was met with the sight of the two entangled in what looked like a heated struggle. He was about to back out when Jiang He screamed: “Husband, help! Fang Zhiyi has gone crazy, he’s trying to kill me!”

Fang Zhiyi was taller and heavier than him. Jiang He, thin as a sheet of paper, was being pressed into the cushions, finding it hard to breathe. His plea for help sounded genuinely pitiful.

Only then did Qi Hanchuan realize he had misunderstood. He stepped forward unhurriedly, pulled Fang Zhiyi off, and rescued Jiang He.

Jiang He clung to Qi Hanchuan’s arm, panting for air. “I want water…”

Qi Hanchuan scanned the room, grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the table, opened it, and fed it to him.

On the side, Fang Zhiyi muttered from the sofa, “I want water too…”

Without even wiping the droplets from his own lips, Jiang He shakily handed the water over. “Fang Zhiyi, here. My husband gave this to me, but I’ll share a little with you.”

The two, who looked ready to brawl a second ago, now acted as if they had settled all their grievances.

Two drunkards.

Qi Hanchuan helped Jiang He up from the sofa, intending to take him home. However, Jiang He suddenly tugged at him, looking up with a pathetic face. “Husband, Fang Zhiyi has to stay at our house. His brother is very mean. If he finds out he came to a place like this, he’ll definitely hit him.”

Jiang He blinked, a layer of mist quickly gathering in his eyes. “Please, husband, take my best friend with us. He’s so pitiful. I can’t leave him here alone.”

Qi Hanchuan knitted his brows and signaled to his secretary. The secretary immediately stepped forward to hoist the limp Fang Zhiyi.

Jiang He began issuing orders again: “Don’t carry him like that, it’s uncomfortable. Carry him on your back.”

The secretary looked to Qi Hanchuan for confirmation. Qi Hanchuan’s face darkened further, but he eventually nodded.

As the secretary carried Fang Zhiyi out, Qi Hanchuan gripped Jiang He by the arm. Jiang He struggled, his face wrinkling in a pout. “It hurts! Don’t pull me… carry me.”

Qi Hanchuan’s face was stern. “Keep acting up and you can walk yourself.”

Jiang He stopped speaking, but he fixed his flushed, drunken face and watery eyes on the man. As he watched, large teardrops began to roll down. If Qi Hanchuan didn’t know how troublesome his personality was, he might have actually wondered if he was being too harsh.

Clearly, this boy was the one who ran out to fool around with ten male models, required a pickup after getting wasted, and was now acting aggrieved because his excessive demands weren’t being met.

He expected Jiang He to be unreasonable, but instead, the boy sobbed: “Don’t be mean to me. My head is so dizzy… when you pull me like that, I feel like my arm is going to fall off.”

The young master was delicate; that light pat on the hand the other day had stayed red until the next morning despite the ice. Qi Hanchuan realized his grip might be too tight and relaxed slightly. “Can we go now?”

Jiang He shook his head, a tear from his cheek flying off and landing on Qi Hanchuan’s sleeve, dampening a small patch of the bespoke suit fabric. “I want you to hold me. My head is spinning.”

Xie Yunting happened to witness this scene. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a playful glint in his eyes. He had always been curious to see if someone could cause a crack in Qi Hanchuan’s icy exterior. It seemed that person had arrived.

Qi Hanchuan wanted to lecture him a grown man asking to be carried, what did that look like? But a moment later, Jiang He slumped softly into his arms, his voice trembling with a sob: “Husband, hold me.”

Jiang He’s scent was faint, currently overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and the cheap perfume he had likely picked up from those male models. Qi Hanchuan didn’t want to hold him, but Jiang He kept acting spoiled, calling him “Husband” over and over. Anyone else would have had their heart melted.

Qi Hanchuan’s heart was made of stone; he remained unmoved.

However, even while drunk, Jiang He subconsciously felt a bit intimidated by Qi Hanchuan’s cold face, so he made a “cute” compromise. “A piggyback is fine too. Fang Zhiyi is being carried, why do I have a husband but still have to walk by myself?”

Pushed by this childish competitive streak, and not wanting to waste more time in a standoff that might draw a crowd, Qi Hanchuan simply scooped the boy up horizontally in a princess carry.

Xie Yunting called out from behind, “President Qi is quite lucky, with such a delicate beauty in his arms.”

Qi Hanchuan gave him a chilling glare that made Xie Yunting stand up straight and see them off.

Once he got what he wanted, Jiang He stopped fussing. He found a comfortable spot in Qi Hanchuan’s arms, feeling exceptionally safe as he breathed in the man’s familiar woody scent.

He rarely drank; his family was very strict because of his health. This was Jiang He’s first time at a club and his first time getting drunk. If his family found out, he’d definitely be in trouble.

Groggy, Jiang He opened his eyes and looked at Qi Hanchuan’s tight jawline, pleading softly: “Husband, don’t tell my parents I snuck out to drink. They’ll scold me.”

Qi Hanchuan ignored him, thinking: You didn’t just drink; you ordered ten male models.

Jiang He grabbed Qi Hanchuan’s tie and gave it a small tug, acting spoiled in his haze: “Please, husband… my brother’s hits hurt so much. Don’t tell him.”

Your brother dotes on you so much you’re nearly a vegetable; he wouldn’t dream of hitting you, Qi Hanchuan thought.

When no answer came, Jiang He’s temper flared slightly. He gave the tie a sharp yank, huffed, and closed his eyes to rest. Qi Hanchuan was glad for the silence as he carried him into the car.

Fang Zhiyi had been placed in the front passenger seat by the secretary. He was even noisier than Jiang He, straining against his seatbelt to look for his friend. Seeing Jiang He in Qi Hanchuan’s arms, Fang Zhiyi slurred, “Xiao He… you’re so big, why are you still being carried?”

Jiang He glanced at him. “It’s only natural for my husband to carry me, you single dog.”

They started bickering immediately. Qi Hanchuan, getting a headache from the noise, snapped the partition shut to end the “war.” Fang Zhiyi looked like a quiet boy, but he was a lunatic when drunk. Then again, a normal person could never be friends with Jiang He.

Jiang He muttered, “He’s my best friend.” One second they were at war, the next they were best friends again.

Qi Hanchuan chuckled softly. “Drunkard.”

“I’m not,” Jiang He protested.

Qi Hanchuan didn’t feel like arguing. He tried to set the boy down on the seat, but Jiang He clung to him like an octopus. Jiang He’s thin frame felt even more fragile in his arms, and the extreme size difference gave the boy a sense of security, so he refused to let go of Qi Hanchuan’s neck.

Qi Hanchuan gripped his slender wrists, his face cold. “Behave. Sit by yourself.”

Jiang He shook his head and buried his face in the man’s chest, his voice muffled: “I want husband to hold me.”

The neat suit and shirt were being mussed into a mess, and the tie clip had disappeared somewhere in the struggle.

Qi Hanchuan took a deep breath. “Jiang He.”

Jiang He rubbed his face against the man’s chest. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you! I’m deaf! I just want husband to hold me!”

Fearing that forcing him down would lead to more tears, Qi Hanchuan sighed. “Keep acting up and you’re going out.”

Jiang He stopped moving. He took Qi Hanchuan’s hand and placed it on his own waist, then climbed up a bit to rest his head on the man’s shoulder. “Hold me tight, so I don’t fall off.”

His light breath brushed against the skin of Qi Hanchuan’s neck, carrying a slight coolness. Qi Hanchuan almost threw him off, but Jiang He had already closed his eyes and fallen into a peaceful rest on his shoulder.

The car left the bustling city and headed toward the mountainside villa. Jiang He fell asleep in Qi Hanchuan’s arms, his hands dangling limply like two thin noodles. If Qi Hanchuan hadn’t been holding his waist, he likely would have slid off the seat.

Looking at the boy’s thick, curled lashes and the flush on his cheeks, Qi Hanchuan—on a strange impulse—brushed a stray lock of hair from the boy’s forehead. He froze once he realized what he was doing, staring at his own fingers.

At least he’s asleep, he thought. Otherwise, he’d probably say something shocking again.

Drunk Jiang He was actually more obedient than usual—just a bit too prone to acting spoiled and crying at the drop of a hat. Qi Hanchuan gave a small, barely audible laugh. He’s a lot cuter when he’s crying than when he’s standing with his hands on his hips bossing people around.