Beautiful Wife: The Cold Boss is My Husband - Chapter 13

“Husband, take a look at my eyes—something’s wrong, it feels awful.”

Yan Chengming was taken aback, not quite understanding. “What do you mean, real or not? You’re here with me, that’s real enough.”

“…” Zhuo Xiao couldn’t explain, so he just poked Yan Chengming’s chest muscles in reproach. “You were never home before, and when you did come back, you were always drunk. You never really knew me.”

Yan Chengming opened his mouth, a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

He took Zhuo Xiao’s hand and said, “Then from now on, I’ll come home every day to be with you. I promise you’ll always see me sober. Let me see the real you, okay? Let me understand you.”

Zhuo Xiao was silent for a moment before asking, “Really?”

Yan Chengming found his tone a bit odd but nodded anyway. “Really.”

The wind by the river was strong, chilling them to the bone. Yan Chengming led Zhuo Xiao to the car, asking as they walked, “Are you hungry? What do you want to eat? How about that restaurant we went to last time?”

Zhuo Xiao clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, making it difficult for Yan Chengming to move. With no other choice, Yan Chengming took off his coat and bundled Zhuo Xiao up from head to toe like a Swiss roll, barely managing to get him to the car door.

Zhuo Xiao’s head rested against Yan Chengming’s chin, his hair brushing against Yan Chengming’s lips, turning them red. Curled up, his voice hoarse from crying, Zhuo Xiao whispered, “I want to eat at home.”

Yan Chengming’s expression froze for a second. Zhuo Xiao had just been through an ordeal—he couldn’t possibly expect him to go back and spend three hours in the kitchen cooking for Yan Chengming, who was used to being waited on. And Yan Chengming himself didn’t know how to cook.

Scrambling for a solution, he came up with a compromise: “How about hot pot? We can go to the supermarket and pick out ingredients.”

In Yan Chengming’s view, hot pot was just boiling everything in water. Last time, he’d even successfully stewed bird’s nest, which proved he had some culinary talent. This time, with a small pot, he was confident he could handle it easily.

Zhuo Xiao gave a muffled “Mm,” agreeing.

With Zhuo Xiao’s consent, Yan Chengming peeled him off, bundled him up, and stuffed him into the car.

The car’s heater was on full blast, and the colorful interior lights were dazzling.

Yan Chengming rubbed his wind-chilled face, feeling as if he’d just undergone a natural skincare treatment with remarkable preservative effects.

Just as he was about to start the car, brimming with satisfaction, Zhuo Xiao suddenly stopped him. “Wait, husband.”

“What’s wrong?” Yan Chengming paused.

As he turned his head, Zhuo Xiao leaned in abruptly, catching him off guard.

Unlike Yan Chengming, Zhuo Xiao never wore perfume, yet he always smelled sweet, perhaps from fabric softener. Now, wrapped in Yan Chengming’s coat, Zhuo Xiao’s delicate scent mingled with the assertive, custom sandalwood fragrance Yan Chengming wore, creating an overwhelming sense that Zhuo Xiao belonged entirely to him.

No other moment had ever made Yan Chengming feel the reality of marriage so vividly.

Zhuo Xiao’s eyes were red, and he kept blinking, his fingers pressed to the corners as if afraid to touch them despite the discomfort. His lashes were damp with tears as he looked pleadingly at Yan Chengming. “Husband, take a look at my eyes—something’s wrong, it feels awful.”

Yan Chengming’s throat moved, his breath catching for a moment before steadying. He leaned closer to Zhuo Xiao, their faces almost touching, noses nearly brushing.

He pressed his large hand against the side of Zhuo Xiao’s forehead, and Zhuo Xiao’s fingers trailed down, surrendering himself completely to Yan Chengming.

Yan Chengming’s breath brushed against Zhuo Xiao’s eyelashes—cool yet intensely warm. Zhuo Xiao’s eyelids fluttered slightly. Yan Chengming hissed softly, pressing down on his restless eyelids and speaking in a low voice, “Don’t move. Let me check! It seems like your contact lens has shifted. Did you rub your eyes?”

“Mm… probably,” Zhuo Xiao replied cautiously, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would make the lens slip even further.

“It’s fine, I’ll take it out for you.” Yan Chengming stared at Zhuo Xiao’s slightly parted lips. They had just kissed, and Yan Chengming had a habit of biting when he kissed. Even though he had deliberately held back, Zhuo Xiao’s lips were still red and slightly swollen, looking pitiable and evoking a strange urge to torment them again.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. Frowning, he stared intently for a moment before finally daring to raise his hand. “Look at me.”

Zhuo Xiao’s pupils lifted, fixing directly on Yan Chengming’s face.

He had always given Yan Chengming the impression of a delicate, fragile flower in need of protection, but the gaze directed at him now gave Yan Chengming the illusion of being targeted by a hunter.

Yan Chengming’s heartbeat quickened. He silently scolded himself for his overactive imagination while suppressing his nervousness. His thumb approached Zhuo Xiao’s eyeball—

“Phew.”

Yan Chengming looked at the small, transparent, bowl-shaped object on his finger and let out a deep sigh. It was just helping his wife remove a contact lens, yet he was drenched in sweat as if he had just been through a battle.

“Wife, what should I do with this?” Yan Chengming asked, somewhat at a loss.

Zhuo Xiao, who had somehow produced a small mirror and was removing his other contact lens, replied, “It’s disposable. Just throw it away.”

“Oh.” Yan Chengming pulled out a tissue, wrapped the contact lens in it, and placed it in the car door’s storage compartment.

Yan Chengming drove to a large, high-end membership-only supermarket. As soon as he got out of the car, Zhuo Xiao called out from behind, “Husband.”

He turned around to see Zhuo Xiao leaning against the car door, looking at him somewhat uneasily. “I can’t see clearly. Can you hold my hand?”

Yan Chengming slapped his forehead and immediately turned back, taking Zhuo Xiao’s hand. But Zhuo Xiao’s nearsightedness was only around 150 degrees—was it really to the point where he couldn’t see? Never mind, it wasn’t important. Yan Chengming shook his head, muttering to himself.

Inside the car, with the heater on, Zhuo Xiao’s hands had been somewhat warm. But after less than two minutes outside, they were already icy from the cold wind. To Yan Chengming, who was like a walking furnace all year round, this was simply unbelievable. He tucked Zhuo Xiao’s hand into his own pocket and gave it a gentle squeeze.

It was already around eight or nine o’clock, and the supermarket was bustling with customers. Yan Chengming pulled Zhuo Xiao even closer, as if afraid that his wife might get lost if he wasn’t careful.

After picking up some fresh organic vegetables and meat, they passed by the fruit section. Yan Chengming asked, “Do you want any fruit?”

Zhuo Xiao’s gaze swept over the display, pausing briefly as if he had noticed something. “Sure, we’re almost out of fruit at home.”

Yan Chengming had no idea how to choose. Earlier, when selecting beef, he had casually picked up a package, and Zhuo Xiao had immediately said, “Not that one. You don’t like that cut.”

Yan Chengming: “Huh?”

He usually ate food that was already prepared, so how would he know what it looked like before being served on the dining table?

Watching Zhuo Xiao effortlessly pick up another type of beef, he remarked, “You like eating this.”

Then he observed Zhuo Xiao wandering around the fruit section, picking up one thing after another. Cherries and kiwis were understandable, but why bananas? They were so dry and unappealing—he didn’t like them at all.

After holding back for a long time, he finally asked, “Honey, do you like bananas?”

Zhuo Xiao gave him a deep, inexplicable look that Yan Chengming couldn’t decipher. All he knew was that after withdrawing his gaze, Zhuo Xiao curled the corner of his lips and nodded lightly. “Mm.”

Fine, if he wanted to buy them, so be it.

Seeing how happy Zhuo Xiao seemed, Yan Chengming gave in.

He asked if there was anything else Zhuo Xiao wanted. After a moment of thought, Zhuo Xiao earnestly replied, “Milk.”

Yan Chengming assumed he meant the large family-sized cartons, but Zhuo Xiao only picked up a small bottle.

At that moment, he hadn’t yet grasped the severity of the situation.

It wasn’t until he was sitting in the driver’s seat, eyes fixed ahead but unable to resist glancing sideways in the rearview mirror.

In his line of sight, Zhuo Xiao sat elegantly, leisurely peeling back the pale-yellow banana skin. Parting his lips—still reddened from Yan Chengming’s kisses—he slowly brought the soft, white banana to his mouth.

Crunch.

The tip of the banana was bitten off.

Yan Chengming’s eyelids twitched, and he suddenly felt a phantom pain somewhere.

Flustered yet oddly thrilled, he averted his gaze, trying hard to ignore the suggestive scene, and continued driving with utmost seriousness.

Zhuo Xiao, perhaps feeling a bit thirsty, took out the bottled milk. Within seconds, he frowned and stretched his arm toward Yan Chengming, complaining pitifully, “Husband, I can’t open it.”

Yan Chengming glanced at him and noticed traces of banana still clinging to the corner of his lips. His gaze was innocent, completely unaware that he was in the same predicament as the banana in his hand.

Clearing his throat, Yan Chengming steered with one hand, took the milk bottle with the other, and pinched the edge of the cap between his thumb and forefinger. The muscles in his hand tensed, forming a pleasing contour.

He handed it back. “There.”

Zhuo Xiao took it and took another slow sip. Though the bottle opening wasn’t large, a few drops somehow ended up at the corner of his lips. The stark contrast between white and red was vivid and suggestive.

Yan Chengming: “…”

He took a deep breath, sensing an unusual stirring in his body.

Zhuo Xiao, who had been sitting perfectly still, was jolted when the car suddenly accelerated. The milk he had just sipped splashed onto his collar. Confused, he pressed one hand against the seatbelt and asked, “Husband, what’s wrong?”

Yan Chengming replied curtly, “Nothing. Keep eating.”

His tone was stiff, hardly sounding like “nothing.”

Zhuo Xiao glanced outside. The scenery growing increasingly desolate and hesitated. “Husband, this isn’t the way home, is it? Where are we going?”

Yan Chengming remained silent, driving relentlessly.

Finally, the Maybach stopped in a deserted, remote wilderness—so barren that Zhuo Xiao wondered how Yan Chengming even knew such a place existed.

Realizing what Yan Chengming intended, he silently tightened the cap on his milk bottle.

Once they arrived, Yan Chengming flung the car door open, hurried around the front, and pulled open Zhuo Xiao’s door, leaning halfway inside.

Yan Chengming’s robust upper body pressed down on her, and Zhuo Xiao felt as if she had been pounced on by a large dog.

The large dog hurriedly snatched the milk bottle and banana from Zhuo Xiao’s hands, tossing them aside. His ears and tail wagged rapidly, his expression eager yet sincere as he panted heavily, “Darling, don’t eat that for now. How about something else?”

Zhuo Xiao suppressed the urge to smile and nodded with restraint, “…Mm.”

Yan Chengming swiftly unbuckled Zhuo Xiao’s seatbelt, pulled her out, and settled her into the back seat, lowering the seatback. Having restrained himself the entire ride, nearly burning with impatience, he finally got his wish as he hungrily kissed his wife’s lips, then moved to the milk stain on her collar and further down to other areas.

Much later, Zhuo Xiao’s eyes were misty, her collar wide open, her fair neck and collarbone now adorned with several red marks. Her voice grew softer and more fragmented, “Husband… no, there’s none… ah.”

A sudden surge of strength lifted her, and she unsteadily placed her hands on Yan Chengming’s well-defined abs.

Panting heavily, Yan Chengming pulled a tube from the seat drawer, something resembling toothpaste, and pounced again, declaring resolutely, “There is.”

Zhuo Xiao’s eyes widened slightly.

…

Outside, the city’s neon lights were left behind as the deep night settled. The car, painted the same shade as the darkness, swayed gently, accompanied by fragmented, muffled gasps.

The breeze brushed over the quiet grass tips, faint specks of light flickering here and there. A satisfied laugh drifted down, only to be swallowed once more by the silence.