Beautiful Wife: The Cold Boss is My Husband - Chapter 14

By the time they returned home, Zhuo Xiao had long fallen asleep in the back seat, while Yan Chengming remained wide awake.

After parking the car in the garage, Yan Chengming patted Zhuo Xiao’s cheek gently. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

Zhuo Xiao groggily opened his eyes. He was utterly exhausted—first, the anger and sorrow, then the chilling wind by the river, the emotional rollercoaster, and finally, being pinned down by Yan Chengming in the car for hours. Now, his body was a mess, his legs so weak he could barely lift them, let alone walk.

Yan Chengming felt a pang of guilt as he noticed the bruise at the corner of Zhuo Xiao’s lips and the remnants of certain substances. He hadn’t intended to push him this far. Inspired by certain films, he had fantasized countless times about being intimate with Zhuo Xiao in the car and had even prepared the necessary supplies. But he had always held back, afraid that Zhuo Xiao, with his delicate sensibilities, would refuse.

Today, he had seized the opportunity, but in his excitement, he lost control. When he grabbed Zhuo Xiao’s hair, he hadn’t held back, leaving his beautiful wife’s face slightly marred.

Fully aware of his wrongdoing, Yan Chengming scooped Zhuo Xiao up horizontally from the car and, for the first time, offered proactively, “I’ll help you clean up in a bit.”

To his surprise, Zhuo Xiao perked up at this, his eyes widening with a strangely tense expression. “It’s fine, I can do it myself. No need to trouble you, dear husband.”

Yan Chengming frowned and insisted firmly, “You’re too weak to manage. Let me handle it.”

“…” His tone left no room for argument. Zhuo Xiao had no choice but to bury his forehead against Yan Chengming’s chest muscles to calm himself. As Yan Chengming carried him eagerly toward the front door, he thought he heard Zhuo Xiao muttering something under his breath.

It sounded like, “It’s over. All my efforts have gone to waste.”

Yan Chengming paused mid-step. “Huh? Did you say something, sweetheart?”

Zhuo Xiao looked up abruptly, his expression innocent. “No, I didn’t. You must have misheard, dear husband.”

Right, another hallucination.

After bathing Zhuo Xiao, the two started a hot pot meal. Under Yan Chengming’s intense gaze, Zhuo Xiao silently withdrew his hand from adding chili oil to his dipping sauce.

Yan Chengming smiled with satisfaction and blanched another leafy green for Zhuo Xiao. “Eat something light, so you don’t end up with a fever like last time.”

Zhuo Xiao wanted to explain that he was different from others—his last fever wasn’t caused by failing to clean himself properly. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Forcing a calm expression, he picked up his bowl to accept Yan Chengming’s “love-filled greens,” gritting his teeth but speaking softly and weakly, “Thank you, dear husband.”

After dinner, Yan Chengming reluctantly pulled himself away from his gentle haven and immediately switched to work mode, heading to the study. Meanwhile, Zhuo Xiao leaned against the headboard to read but soon grew drowsy. He opened his laptop to check his emails.

Amid the flood of work emails, one stood out—a message in English from abroad. The sender was an elderly, balding executive from a foreign company Zhuo Xiao knew. Opening it, he found a lengthy letter that began with an excessively polite, almost royal-style greeting. The useful information, however, boiled down to just two sentences—

“My dear Zhuo, I fondly remember the time we spent together. Before leaving my position, I mentored a subordinate at the company who possesses exceptional work abilities and outstanding character. Recently, he inquired about your personal contact information, hoping to collaborate with you. I was wondering if you might be interested. If so, I would gladly share your details with him, and I hope you don’t find this intrusive.”

–

Meanwhile, in his study, Yan Chengming was so troubled that his eyebrows were tightly knitted.

The so-called friends he had contacted earlier had given him no response, and only Wang Lang had transferred a small, almost negligible amount of funds to his company’s dedicated account. Yan Chengming called Wang Lang, carefully choosing his words: “Does your father not have much confidence in my project?”

Wang Lang paused briefly on the other end before laughing it off. “How could that be? He really admires you. You know how business is—there are always risks involved. Maybe he just wants to test the waters with a small investment first? Don’t worry, leave it to me. I’ll keep working on him and get you more funding soon.”

Yan Chengming let out a sigh and said, “Alright, thank you.”

Wang Lang replied, “Hey, no need to be so formal. You’re my best brother, Yan.”

Feeling frustrated, Yan Chengming hung up the phone. The more he thought about it, the more something felt off. Wang Lang’s tone had been strange, as if he was hiding something. At first, Yan Chengming considered confronting him directly and even opened their chat window, but after hesitating for a long time, he closed it again.

Wang Lang was his closest friend—he wouldn’t keep things from Yan Chengming unless something serious was going on.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Yan Chengming abruptly stood up and rushed to the bedroom. Frowning and raising his voice, he called out, “Zhuo Xiao, where’s the key to my wine cabinet? Give it to me.”

Since deciding to quit drinking, Yan Chengming had entrusted the key to his prized wine collection to Zhuo Xiao for safekeeping. Zhuo Xiao was sitting on the bed with a laptop on his knees, deeply engrossed in something, his brow furrowed. Hearing Yan Chengming’s footsteps, he immediately closed the laptop.

His serious expression instantly softened as he looked innocently at the flustered Yan Chengming. “Honey, what’s wrong? Didn’t you say before…” He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Yan Chengming’s mind was entirely preoccupied with Wang Lang’s odd behavior—he couldn’t possibly focus on two things at once, so he didn’t notice Zhuo Xiao’s furtive actions.

Snapping back to reality, Yan Chengming caught Zhuo Xiao’s unfinished sentence and quickly clarified, “No, it’s not for me. I was thinking of giving a couple of good bottles to Wang Lang’s father as a gift.”

“Oh, I see.” Zhuo Xiao naturally slipped the laptop under the pillow, got out of bed, and took Yan Chengming’s arm, guiding him to the hidden compartment in the wardrobe where he retrieved the key. “Here it is.”

Yan Chengming grabbed the key from Zhuo Xiao’s hand and hurried to the room where the wine was stored. He picked out two aged bottles of premium red wine and Maotai, then, feeling it wasn’t enough, selected a piece of calligraphy from an auction he had previously won.

Early the next morning, the sky was hazy as if rain was imminent. Yan Chengming, as usual, had Chen Xi drive him to Wang Lang’s house.

When Wang Lang was young, his family was comfortably well-off. His father, Wang Jun, was the director of a small factory. Later, riding the wave of the times, he suddenly struck it rich, and Wang Lang transferred to Yan Chengming’s high school. The tuition there wasn’t cheap—students either came from wealthy families, like Yan Chengming, or were top academic achievers like Gu Yu, who had earned scholarships to boost the school’s college admission rates and enhance its reputation.

At first, Wang Lang struggled to fit in. He was quiet, and some of the more “aloof” students looked down on him for being unsophisticated and avoided him. One day, for reasons unknown, he offended the “big brother” of a student gang and found himself cornered in a narrow alley on his way home by some thugs hired by the leader.

Just as Wang Lang’s face was about to meet a flurry of punches and kicks, a male student suddenly appeared from the side. His uniform was worn sloppily, and his hair was slicked with gel that seemed out of place for someone his age. With astonishing combat skills, he delivered a flying kick that sent the tattooed thug sprawling to the ground. Then, turning to Wang Lang, he said, “Don’t take this route from now on. If you really have to, why not hire a bodyguard? After dealing with the troublemaker, the male student walked away with an air of someone who had just accomplished a great deed without seeking recognition, leaving Wang Lang standing there in a daze.

Later, after asking around, Wang Lang learned that the student’s name was Yan Chengming.

From then on, Wang Lang respectfully referred to him as “Brother Yan” and followed him around like a shadow. No one dared to bully him after that.

“President Yan, we’ve arrived.” Chen Xi parked the car in front of Wang Lang’s house and glanced in the rearview mirror at Yan Chengming, who was sitting upright in the backseat, rehearsing his opening lines. As he withdrew his gaze, he caught another glimpse of his own face in the mirror.

After days of practice, he had grown accustomed to his coal-black complexion, remaining unfazed. He even mused to himself that his facial features were truly exceptional—even with the dark skin, he still looked quite handsome.

Hearing this, Yan Chengming immediately adjusted his expression. The trace of youthful awkwardness vanished, replaced by the confident smile of a successful man, radiating stability and reliability.

Yan Chengming turned his head, about to step out of the car, when he spotted someone through the window.

Yan Rong’s legs weren’t what they used to be. The Yan family’s butler followed closely behind, attempting to offer support, but Yan Rong shot him a fierce glare. The well-meaning butler could only withdraw his hand in disappointment.

Yan Rong’s style was meticulous, much like Yan Chenrui’s. His hair was neatly combed with an air of authority, and his expression remained as stern as in his younger days. Yet, even with dyed hair, the gray strands were unmistakable, and his back, though he tried to stand straight, was noticeably stooped—a clear sign that the vitality he fought so hard to retain was slipping away relentlessly.

Yan Chengming paused, his mood instantly turning complicated. He disliked seeing Yan Rong, but avoidance was never his style. After only a moment’s hesitation, he regained his composure and stepped out of the car with even more flamboyance than before.

Two pairs of eyes, similar in shape, locked instantly. One held stubbornness and obsession, while the other brimmed with youth and vitality.

A blinding flash of lightning cut across the gloomy sky, followed by a clap of thunder, and suddenly, rain poured down in torrents.

The butler and Chen Xi simultaneously opened their prepared umbrellas, rushing to shield their employers who were walking ahead.

Yan Rong moved unsteadily, refusing to use a cane, so his progress was slow. In contrast, Yan Chengming strode with even larger steps than most and reached Yan Rong in just a few paces.

Yan Chengming’s eyes were as deep and somber as the sky, locked onto Yan Rong’s face through the curtain of rain. He spoke, “Dad.”

Yan Rong did not appreciate his initiative to greet him. Instead of feeling comforted, this address only fueled his anger further. A surge of rage flashed in his dark pupils as he thundered in a deep voice, “Dad? So, you still remember I’m your father! If I hadn’t gone to the company myself, I wouldn’t have known you resigned! What on earth are you messing around for?”

Yan Chengming had heard such words countless times. When facing Yan Chenrui, he could still argue angrily and voice his thoughts, but with Yan Rong, he didn’t want to say a single word. It was useless—Yan Rong wouldn’t listen anyway.

Seeing his silence, Yan Rong grew even more furious, “You can mess around all you want by yourself! But now you’ve dragged your brother down with you! You act recklessly, and he covers for you. I’ve truly raised two ungrateful wretches!”

Yan Chengming instinctively sensed something wrong and urgently asked, “What have you done to Yan Chenrui?”

“You still care about him? Worry about yourself first.” Yan Rong snorted disdainfully, “Do you know why no one wants to work with you? You resigned from Yan Corporation on a whim, and everyone outside thinks you’re unreliable, treating business like a game! If even your own family can’t keep you, how can business partners who are only tied by interests?”

“Is that what they think, or is that what you think?” Yan Chengming immediately understood the implication. A vein throbbed on his forehead as he angrily retorted, “Have you been spreading rumors about me outside?”

Yan Rong snorted noncommittally, averted his gaze, and got into the car without looking back.

Yan Chengming’s eyes reddened, his chest heaving as he let out a deep, heavy breath.

Chen Xi, who had been watching the entire scene unfold, cautiously asked, “Mr. Yan, shall we still go in?”

“Yes.” Yan Chengming took several deep breaths, trying to calm his emotions. A minute later, he blinked hard and replied.

—

After leaving Wang Lang’s house, Yan Chengming’s expression remained grim. Chen Xi asked him, “Mr. Yan, are we heading home?”

Yan Chengming didn’t respond at first, pausing for a couple of seconds before saying, “Not yet. Let’s drive around for a bit.”

He didn’t specify where to go, so Chen Xi aimlessly drove through the city. The rain had cast a gray pall over the sky, and the gloomy weather seemed to amplify the melancholy. It was the kind of day best spent sleeping at home, so the streets were sparsely populated, with only the occasional colored metal cars shuttling back and forth, devoid of any human warmth.

The atmosphere in the car was equally quiet. Neither of them spoke, and there was no music playing. Chen Xi had even turned off the flashy lights that Yan Chengming usually enjoyed. Yan Chengming’s face was shrouded in the dim, oppressive shadows, making his expression unreadable.

His mind was a tangled mess, filled with a chaotic jumble of words spoken by various people.

Yan Rong told him to stop fooling around and go home, dismissing all his decisions and capabilities, only wishing for him to return as an obedient, idle puppet living off others. Earlier at Wang Lang’s house, he had politely entered and presented gifts to Wang Jun, tactfully inquiring about Wang Jun’s opinion on his project. Wang Jun gave him a deep look and then smiled ambiguously. For some reason, the smile betrayed a poorly concealed helplessness, as if facing a playful child. With a tone of earnest concern, he said, “It’s good for young people to have ambition, but you should also listen to your elders. Go home more often, heed your father’s advice, and don’t recklessly do things on your own—that’s how you end up crashing and burning. Your father has had it tough too.”

After driving around for about an hour, the rain gradually lightened. Yan Chengming, who had been silent in the back seat, finally spoke, his voice hoarse: “Pull over.”

The Maybach stopped by the roadside. Across the street, a brightly lit convenience store stood out. Seeing Yan Chengming heading in that direction, Chen Xi swiftly handed him an umbrella: “Boss Yan, it’s still raining.”

Yan Chengming glanced at the fine drizzle and shook his head: “No need.”

He slammed the car door shut and dashed out. The cold, fine raindrops struck his face, jolting him into sharp clarity. The fiery determination he once had—to take on the world and carve out his own pristine territory—had long vanished. Now, Yan Chengming felt as if he were standing on a drifting iceberg in a vast, desolate ocean, utterly alone. His shouts echoed into emptiness, with no one to support him.

He was isolated and helpless.

After buying a can of beer from the store, Yan Chengming, still dressed in his expensive suit, sat down on a roadside stone pillar. Chen Xi, about to rush over with an umbrella, was stopped by Yan Chengming’s raised hand, freezing him in place.

Left with no choice, Chen Xi dialed Zhuo Xiao’s number from inside the car: “Uncle, your husband seems really upset. He’s sitting by the roadside, drinking in the rain. What should we do? I’m worried he’ll catch a cold.”

He vividly described Yan Chengming’s day to Zhuo Xiao over the phone.

Yan Chengming gloomily drank half a can of beer as the rain fell. A burly man nearly two meters tall, dressed in a suit, sitting by the roadside drinking in the chilly wind. It was undeniably abnormal, enough to make people suspect mental instability. Passersby cast sidelong glances, and one or two even pulled out their phones to call the authorities.

Raindrops slid down Yan Chengming’s stern face like teardrops.

His phone buzzed incessantly in his suit pocket, but Yan Chengming had no desire to answer. When he finally mustered the will to check, he saw a string of missed calls—from Zhuo Xiao, Gu Yu, and Wang Lang.

As he stared blankly, another call came through. Yan Chengming instinctively pressed the answer button.

Gu Yu’s voice sounded somewhat cheerful: “I got President Zhuo’s contact info and sent it to you. We’re saved.”

Yan Chengming hung up and opened his chat with Gu Yu, where a recommended contact card appeared. The profile picture showed a beautiful European-style building that looked vaguely familiar, perhaps from some travel guide.

With fingers nearly numb from the cold, he tapped on the card and sent a friend request.

Just as he hesitated over whether to send a greeting, a message came from the other side.

[Zhuo: Hello.]

Yan Chengming’s heart, which had been as chaotic and adrift as the rain, seemed to settle at last.