Beautiful Wife: The Cold Boss is My Husband - Chapter 21

The usually quiet lakeside villa was now packed with luxury cars filling every parking spot. Though they were only parked on the ground because the underground garage was full, the scene still exuded an air of nouveau riche extravagance. If the old master of the Zhuo family were still alive, he would never have allowed such a disgrace to the family’s “dignity.”

Unfortunately, today was his funeral.

In the villa’s living room, both men and women were dressed in somber black, each wearing a stark white flower pinned to their chests. Some sat, others stood, all visibly restless as they waited for something.

Finally, the woman sitting on the central sofa, her features sharp and imposing, could no longer contain her impatience. The child in her arms had been crying incessantly, grating on her nerves, and even she wore an irritated expression as she turned to Xi Duo, who was seated on a side sofa. “Assistant Xi, are you sure Zhuo… Mr. Zhuo is still coming?”

As she spoke, a nanny stepped forward to take the little boy from her arms. Zhuo Ruting frowned and smoothed her clothes.

Xi Duo glanced at this woman, who could be considered Zhuo Xiao’s sister by blood, his expression as gentle and composed as ever. Without haste, he replied, “Of course.”

“If we wait any longer, it’ll be dark. What about the vigil?” Zhuo Ruting frowned, her tone far from pleasant. After grumbling loudly, she muttered to herself, It’s been three years with no news. What if he really died out there? After all, he has plenty of enemies.

Leaning against the sofa nearby, Zhuo Da, the eldest son of the Zhuo family, with two buttons of his suit jacket undone, raised an eyebrow and let out a derisive snort. “Why worry so much? Anyway, the two of us can’t keep the vigil for the old man. Only his chosen heir can do that.”

Just as the atmosphere grew tense with undercurrents, an elderly butler with graying hair pushed the door open. He scanned the room with an unyielding gaze and announced calmly, “Everyone, Mr. Zhuo will arrive in five minutes.”

A biting cold wind swept through, causing the paper flowers hanging on the villa’s fence to tremble mournfully. In the distance, amid the crowd gathered at the entrance, the silhouette of a black car finally appeared.

An extended Rolls-Royce pulled up steadily in front of the villa. As soon as it stopped, attendants swiftly and orderly stepped forward, respectfully opening the car door.

Expensive leather shoes touched the ground as the man stepped out with long, decisive strides. Zhuo Xiao was dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, a fresh white rose—different from the others—tucked into his chest pocket. His long black hair was tied back, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested on his refined nose. His expression was stern and cold, devoid of any smile.

He didn’t even glance at the waiting “family members” around him, addressing only Xi Duo, who had approached him. “What’s the progress?”

“Everything is ready. You only need to keep the vigil. Tomorrow is the farewell ceremony, and monks will come to chant sutras,” Xi Duo replied smoothly.

In his prime, the old master had been ruthless, involved in many controversial deeds. In his twilight years, as his body weakened like a tattered lantern, he turned to Buddhism, chanting sutras and seeking repentance daily. Whether it was sincere or not, it was entirely ineffective—his health deteriorated day by day.

Zhuo Xiao gave a slight nod and walked toward the villa, heading straight into the mourning hall.

At the entrance to the hall, an attendant who had followed them moved to open the door for Zhuo Xiao, but Xi Duo raised a hand to stop him. With a meaningful glance, Xi Duo signaled the attendant, who promptly stepped away.

Zhuo Xiao glanced at him coolly. “What is it?”

Xi Duo’s gentle gaze fell upon him, yet his words were unorthodox. “Although the rules say you must keep vigil, if you don’t want to, you really don’t have to—just make sure no one finds out.”

Zhuo Xiao’s mother had died because of Old Master Zhuo’s mistake.

Everyone in the Zhuo family knew this, but knowing it didn’t stir any feelings. After all, Zhuo Xiao’s mother was merely a girlfriend Zhuo Ke, Zhuo Xiao’s father, had taken up with outside after suffering the blow of his wife’s infidelity. In theory, Zhuo Xiao’s mother was the other woman, never accepted among the true members of the Zhuo family.

The only one truly affected was Zhuo Xiao.

Zhuo Xiao paused briefly. “No need.”

In the pitch-black night, the vast room was brightly lit. Zhuo Xiao knelt silently on the cushion. Perhaps to test the filial piety of the children, this cushion was exceptionally hard, disregarding human comfort. After just a few hours of kneeling, Zhuo Xiao’s knees had already gone numb, with a dull ache seeping into the gaps between his bones.

Yet his expression remained unchanged, his features so cold they seemed almost devoid of life.

In stark contrast was the black-and-white funeral portrait of the old man hanging in the mourning hall, surrounded by clusters of yellow and white chrysanthemums. Facing the camera, the old man wore a beaming smile, the wrinkles on his face softened with gentleness. Only his eyes were turbid, sending a chill down the spine of anyone who looked at them.

But Zhuo Xiao felt no trace of fear, staring directly into those eyes.

It was late at night, and most of the Zhuo family had already gone to sleep, the silence making it feel like another world. Suddenly, with a creak, the door behind Zhuo Xiao was pushed open, followed by steady footsteps.

Zhuo Xiao’s back straightened like a rigid stone. Hearing the sound, he didn’t even turn his head. Only when the cushion beside him sank slightly did he speak in a hoarse, indifferent voice, “What are you doing here?”

Unlike others, Xi Duo did not offer incense to the old master. He simply knelt upright, his tone flat. “Nothing much. I just received some news.”

Zhuo Xiao finally glanced sideways at him. “What news?”

Xi Duo also turned his head, meeting his gaze. His dark pupils contrasted with his gentle face. “The person you sent in has been released.”

Zhuo Xiao frowned slightly. “Through normal procedures?”

“Yes,” Xi Duo said. “To reduce his sentence, he behaved impeccably inside, completely abandoning his old habits, as if he were a different person.”

“That must have been quite a struggle for him,” Zhuo Xiao remarked lightly, lowering his gaze to his hands resting on his knees. “Time really flies.”

“Yes, it does,” Xi Duo sighed, then looked to the side, his eyes sweeping over Zhuo Xiao from head to toe. After hesitating for a moment, he finally spoke, “When do you plan to come back?”

Zhuo Xiao remained silent.

Xi Duo waited quietly before asking again, “Is he as you imagined?”

Zhuo Xiao smiled faintly. “No.”

With just this one sentence, Xi Duo could have continued the conversation. For instance, if he wasn’t as expected, perhaps it was time to come back and see, as there were not only people he disliked here but also those waiting for him. Yet, hearing the hint of amusement in Zhuo Xiao’s tone, Xi Duo fell silent.

After a long while, he finally said, “Be careful lately. Although he’s out, he has no prospects in City B. There’s no guarantee he won’t do something reckless again.”

Zhuo Xiao merely responded with a soft “Mm.”

The next day, the Zhuo family gathered in front of the mourning hall, a somber and sorrowful crowd. Before them stood a large portrait of the old master. On the platform, monks tapped wooden fish, fingered prayer beads, and chanted lengthy, incomprehensible sutras.

Chen Xi stood slightly behind and to the right of Zhuo Xiao. According to the usual protocol, his status wasn’t high enough to stand here. Perhaps it was because he had performed exceptionally well as Zhuo Xiao’s driver in City A that Zhuo Xiao held him in high regard and specifically allowed him to stand in this position.

At the moment, Chen Xi’s delicate features were scrunched up in discomfort. Zhuo Xiao’s phone in his pocket kept buzzing incessantly, drawing sidelong glances from those around him. Yet, no one dared to speak up in such an atmosphere.

Chen Xi was an adopted child of the Zhuo family and held no particular affection for the old master. After enduring it for a while, he finally couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled Zhuo Xiao’s phone from his pocket, glanced at it, took a step diagonally forward, and whispered into Zhuo Xiao’s ear, “Uncle, it’s your husband.”

Zhuo Xiao took the phone and saw a long string of messages from Yan Chengming, including but not limited to: “Baby, I miss you so much,” “When are you coming back, wifey?” “Don’t overwork yourself, or I’ll worry,” “Will you still love me when you come back, baby?” “I miss you so much I can’t sleep.”

Zhuo Xiao let out a sudden, soft chuckle, then fixed a cold, piercing gaze on the old master’s portrait.

An eye for an eye.

He had knelt all night—that was already more than enough.

Suddenly, under the watchful eyes of everyone, Zhuo Xiao turned around and simultaneously gave Chen Xi a meaningful look. “Let’s go.”

“Huh? Just like that?” Murmurs rippled through the crowd as people turned to look. Chen Xi swallowed hard and, under everyone’s scrutiny, steeled himself to follow Zhuo Xiao. “Uncle, wait for me!”

—

Ever since Yan Chengming saw that note, a sense of foreboding had settled in his heart. For some reason, he felt that Zhuo Xiao’s departure was closely tied to President Zhuo. He sent Zhuo Xiao numerous messages, desperate for a reply that would offer some reassurance. But Zhuo Xiao remained silent, only intensifying Yan Chengming’s panic.

Restlessly, he opened his phone and scrolled aimlessly. Perhaps driven by subconscious instinct, he tapped into the chat with President Zhuo. The last message was still the photo President Zhuo had sent. Only then did Yan Chengming realize he hadn’t replied to President Zhuo in a long time.

Although he didn’t have much fondness for President Zhuo, the man was still, nominally, his business partner.

After a moment of thought, Yan Chengming decided to pick up the conversation and subtly inquire whether President Zhuo was also in City B recently. He opened the last photo President Zhuo had sent while pondering what would be an appropriate response.

In the photo, President Zhuo appeared to be in a café—a dark wooden table, a white porcelain cup, and a beautifully crafted latte art. Yan Chengming was halfway through formulating a compliment about President Zhuo’s excellent taste when his eyes caught a brown edge in the corner of the picture.

Yan Chengming froze.

Sweat broke out on his palms. He had been leaning back on the sofa but immediately sat up straight, his expression turning grave. He zoomed in on the photo, studying it intently for a long time before finally exclaiming, “Holy shit!”

Yan Chengming was absolutely certain he wasn’t mistaken. That brown edge belonged to the custom-made, handcrafted wallet he had painstakingly chosen as a birthday gift for Zhuo Xiao.

So… on the day Zhuo Xiao was unusually cold and seemed to have run off, had he gone to meet President Zhuo? Was it not just President Zhuo who coveted Zhuo Xiao, but perhaps Zhuo Xiao was also in contact with him?

Yan Chengming’s heart instantly ached with unbearable pain. Just as his thoughts were spiraling wildly, a sudden sound came from the doorway.

Zhuo Xiao had barely taken a step inside when a sharp pain shot through his knee. He hissed through his teeth, leaning against the wall as he crouched down.

Yan Chengming sprang to his feet. Seeing Zhuo Xiao in such a disheveled state, all the suspicions swirling in his mind evaporated instantly. He rushed over in a panic to help him up. “Why are you back so suddenly? What happened? What’s wrong?”

He asked anxiously, his voice filled with worry, as he gently placed Zhuo Xiao on the rug by the entrance and began tugging at his pants.

Zhuo Xiao pressed his palm tightly against his knee, his face tense. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

He had rushed back to see Yan Chengming, exhausted from a day of travel, his body and mind both stiff and numb. He couldn’t even come up with a proper excuse to brush off Yan Chengming’s concern.

Without another word, Yan Chengming grabbed Zhuo Xiao’s ankle and rolled up the pant leg.

The fabric of the pants brushed over the bruise, causing Zhuo Xiao to hiss in pain again.

Yan Chengming stared at the shocking, dark bruise covering Zhuo Xiao’s pale knee. “How did this happen?” he asked, already reaching for the other pant leg.

When he saw the glaring bruises on both knees, Yan Chengming’s mind, usually filled with inappropriate thoughts, went blank with a sudden buzz.

His hands trembling, he tightened his grip on Zhuo Xiao’s ankle. The thoughts that had been haunting him all day flooded back, overwhelming his rationality. Without thinking, he looked up at Zhuo Xiao in disbelief and blurted out, “Zhuo Xiao, are you seeing someone else?”