Beautiful Wife: The Cold Boss is My Husband - Chapter 22.1

Yan Chengming’s question completely shook Zhuo Xiao to the core. He stared at Yan Chengming for a long time without saying a word, his eyes flickering and growing increasingly shattered. Before he could even speak, his eyes reddened, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“No…” His nose stung with the urge to cry, and his voice trembled with difficulty. “How… how could you think of me like that?”

Seeing Zhuo Xiao’s tear-streaked face, Yan Chengming’s previously resolute heart instantly panicked. He pulled Zhuo Xiao into his arms, the cold, frosty scent clinging to Zhuo Xiao’s body washing over him and clearing his mind slightly. As he wiped away Zhuo Xiao’s tears, he stammered, “No, I was just asking. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He was flustered and incoherent, while Zhuo Xiao sobbed uncontrollably in his embrace. Yan Chengming’s large hand rubbed roughly over Zhuo Xiao’s face, making his skin sore and red. Zhuo Xiao grabbed Yan Chengming’s wrist, feeling that he had to clear things up.

“I really didn’t do anything. I went to City B for a business trip, and as soon as the event ended, I saw your message. I rushed back to see you after a whole day of travel. The bruise is from slipping on the stairs, not from that kind of thing. Believe me. If you don’t believe me, touch it, touch it.”

Still sniffling, Zhuo Xiao pulled Yan Chengming’s hand toward his lower back, guiding it under the waistband of his pants.

Yan Chengming’s hand recoiled as soon as it touched the edge of Zhuo Xiao’s pants. Zhuo Xiao’s desperate need to prove his innocence completely dispelled any lingering doubts. Cursing himself inwardly for being a jerk, Yan Chengming patted Zhuo Xiao’s back and said, “I won’t touch it, I won’t. I believe you.”

If he actually went through with it, that would truly be the end.

“Let me apply some medicine for you,” Yan Chengming quickly changed the subject, lifting Zhuo Xiao from the carpet.

Zhuo Xiao’s legs ached, and the sudden lift caught him off guard, making him unsteady. He had no choice but to wrap his arms around Yan Chengming’s shoulders.

“Where’s the medicine?” Yan Chengming asked as he searched, shifting Zhuo Xiao’s position to cradle him in one arm. Zhuo Xiao sniffled against him and pointed, “In that cabinet. All our medicine is kept there.”

Yan Chengming walked over and remembered—the last time he looked for fever medicine for Zhuo Xiao, he had found it there. He bent down slightly, rummaging through the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of safflower oil and a spray for promoting blood circulation and reducing bruising.

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Which one should I use?”

Zhuo Xiao glanced at the two options. The spray could be applied directly, but the safflower oil required massaging. Without hesitation, he said, “The safflower oil. It’s more effective.”

Unaware of Zhuo Xiao’s ulterior motive, Yan Chengming nodded and put the spray back.

He carried Zhuo Xiao to the bedroom, carefully laid him on the bed, and picked up the safflower oil. With an air of authority, he declared, “Take off your pants.”

It sounded almost like a bandit preparing to take advantage of someone’s wife.

Zhuo Xiao: “…”

His face was still flushed from crying. After a moment’s hesitation, Yan Chengming assumed he was embarrassed and generously bent down, reaching around Zhuo Xiao’s lower back. “Is your leg too sore to move? Let me help you.”

Zhuo Xiao was now nestled in his embrace, surrounded by Yan Chengming’s familiar scent. He blinked his still-damp eyelashes, placed a hand on Yan Chengming’s shoulder, and leaned in closer.

Then, lowering his gaze, he let out a soft, delicate murmur: “Mm.”

Yan Chengming chuckled inwardly as he lifted Zhuo Xiao’s shirt, revealing a stretch of snow-white lower back. Seizing the opportunity, he pinched it. His hand was large, almost covering half of Zhuo Xiao’s waist, and his tanned skin contrasted sharply with Zhuo Xiao’s fair complexion.

In Yan Chengming’s lowered gaze, this was the scene before him. For a moment, his throat tightened with a sudden heat. Two seconds later, he finally remembered the task at hand. With his other hand supporting Zhuo Xiao’s tailbone, he pulled down the pants in one swift motion, taking the chance to sneakily grope the soft flesh as his hand withdrew.

Zhuo Xiao: “…”

For some reason, even when facing his husband, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being sexually harassed.

He glanced at Yan Chengming several times before speaking in a suggestive tone, “Husband, are you…”

The words “wanting it” were swallowed back, leaving the sentence hanging, as if trying to steer the conversation into dangerous territory.

Yan Chengming, with utmost seriousness, unscrewed the cap of the medicated oil. “Me? What about me? I didn’t do anything. It must be an illusion.”

Zhuo Xiao: “…”

The boomerang of illusion had come back to hit him.

So he took a deep breath, blinked hard, squeezing out two leftover tears, and urged, “Husband, it hurts so much. Can you please rub it for me?”

“Alright.” Yan Chengming poured the medicated oil into his palm and precisely placed his hand over Zhuo Xiao’s knee. The liquid was trapped between their skin, and despite the strong, cool minty scent, it felt intensely warm.

Zhuo Xiao watched Yan Chengming’s lowered face, his deep-set eyes seemingly gilded by the light. His knee grew warmer and warmer, and so did his heart.

He swallowed, and the foot that had been resting against Yan Chengming’s thigh shifted upward and inward a little more.

Yan Chengming tensed in a certain area, almost catching fire. He looked down and saw Zhuo Xiao’s foot pressed against his black pants.

Zhuo Xiao pulled his foot back, blinking innocently. “It hurt a bit, so I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay, husband? Did I step on you too hard?”

“No, it’s fine. It actually felt…”

Good.

Yan Chengming’s mouth moved faster than his brain, nearly saying something he shouldn’t. He quickly shook his head, trying to banish the indecent thoughts from his mind.

He had already been led astray by such thoughts once today! There absolutely couldn’t be a second time!

Besides, with Zhuo Xiao’s leg in this condition, it was better to let it rest. Strenuous activities were out of the question.

Zhuo Xiao watched as Yan Chengming coughed, as if having made some firm resolution, his movements and expression radiating righteousness, like a massage therapist. Zhuo Xiao’s lips twitched.

But this therapist seemed to have rather weak self-control.

In any case, as Yan Chengming massaged Zhuo Xiao, he somehow ended up holding him in his arms without even realizing how it happened.

After the massage, Zhuo Xiao’s leg felt much better. With both legs bare and smelling of medicated oil, he sat in Yan Chengming’s embrace, his stomach pressed by Yan Chengming’s large hand. He lowered his gaze and played with Yan Chengming’s fingers.

As he played, he casually asked, “Husband, why did you think I was cheating? Just because of the bruises on my leg?”

Yan Chengming remembered the photo at that moment. He slapped his forehead, grabbed his phone, and opened the chat with President Zhuo in front of Zhuo Xiao. He zoomed in on the photo again and again until he finally spotted the small brown patch in the corner.

Yan Chengming pointed at the photo and exclaimed, “Look, this brown one—isn’t it the wallet I gave you? A custom-made piece! I designed it myself! How could I not recognize it? And you were so cold to me that day, then went out. Not long after, this Mr. Zhuo sent me this photo. How could I not suspect you went to meet him in secret?”

He grew more agitated as he spoke: “And this Mr. Zhuo! He’s really strange! I feel like he’s interested in you…”

He rattled off all the conclusions and so-called evidence he’d pieced together in his mind over the past few days.

When Yan Chengming openly took out his phone to show him the photo of Mr. Zhuo, Zhuo Xiao’s pupils dilated in shock, thinking he’d been discovered. But the more he listened, the more something felt off. The look in his eyes shifted from anxiety to confusion, then to astonishment, and finally settled into speechlessness.

Zhuo Xiao: “…”

What kind of thought process is this?

He was genuinely starting to worry about Yan Chengming’s intelligence now.

Zhuo Xiao slapped a hand over Yan Chengming’s phone-holding hand. Yan Chengming had been muttering, “So what’s the deal?” and looked up in confusion.

With a mix of helplessness and seriousness, Zhuo Xiao softened his tone as much as possible. “Honey, Mr. Zhuo and I really aren’t in the kind of relationship you’re imagining.”

He explained, “We met through work. He took an interest in my paintings and sent me a work email asking me to help paint a portrait. It’s a confidential project, which is why I didn’t tell you.”

After all, he couldn’t reveal that he was Mr. Zhuo himself.

Yan Chengming felt something was off—very off. “When did you two meet?”

Zhuo Xiao hesitated before saying, “Just this past week.”

Back when Yan Chengming had sought to collaborate with Mr. Zhuo, Zhuo Xiao hadn’t shown any intention of helping. So, he couldn’t admit he’d known Mr. Zhuo longer than Yan Chengming—otherwise, his considerate and caring image would crumble.

Sure enough, Yan Chengming pressed further, “But I met Mr. Zhuo first. My social media has our marriage certificate photo, so he knows you’re my wife. Why wouldn’t he just come to me directly? What kind of work requires this level of secrecy?”

Zhuo Xiao’s mind raced frantically, feeling eerily similar to a cheating husband desperately scrambling for excuses to placate an insistent, questioning wife. He said, “Because I don’t like showing my face, he didn’t know I was Zhuo Xiao until he met me in person. He asked me to paint the person he likes.”

He spat out the last word with a sense of resignation, then closed his eyes briefly, as if mourning the loss of his innocence.

Yan Chengming’s head shot up. “He didn’t ask you to paint yourself? Who is it? Do I know them?”

Zhuo Xiao recalled their chat history. Back when Yan Chengming had asked him about the person he liked, he’d never imagined Yan Chengming suspected Mr. Zhuo had feelings for Zhuo Xiao. Caught off guard, he’d answered honestly—now it seemed he’d dug his own grave.

“Of course, it’s not me. You know them, but Mr. Zhuo forbade me from saying. I can’t tell you.” As he spoke, Zhuo Xiao wrapped his arms around Yan Chengming’s arm, using a coaxing tone to flatter him. “A painting transaction is still business, and business relies on trust, right? You’re so capable—you must understand that.”

Yan Chengming felt too embarrassed to press further.

Seeing this, Zhuo Xiao seized the opportunity to thoroughly bury this messy misunderstanding. He pulled out his phone and shoved it into Yan Chengming’s hand. “If you still don’t believe me, look at my phone. I don’t even have Mr. Zhuo’s personal contact information.”

Yan Chengming wanted to look, but he felt that if he did, he’d be utterly shameless. His eyes kept darting toward the screen as he feigned refusal, “Ah, I won’t look, baby, I won’t. I believe you.”

His movements were reminiscent of refusing red envelopes during the New Year, but in phone form.

Zhuo Xiao simply unlocked the phone himself, opened WeChat, and held it right in front of Yan Chengming’s eyes. “Go ahead, look.”

Yan Chengming glanced at it and saw that Zhuo Xiao’s WeChat contact list was exceptionally clean—so clean it almost seemed like the phone’s owner didn’t use WeChat at all. The only grayed-out pinned contact at the top was himself.

The note still read “Darling Hubby.”

Yan Chengming couldn’t explain how thrilled he felt at that moment. His vanity was immensely satisfied. He cleared his throat lightly, hiding the smile at the corner of his mouth, then snatched the phone from Zhuo Xiao’s hand and tossed it onto the pillow. He then pounced on Zhuo Xiao like a mountain pressing down, “Alright, alright, I really believe you now. A kiss, just one kiss.”

His lips landed on Zhuo Xiao’s chin, then he licked his way upward like a dog, his faint stubble brushing against Zhuo Xiao’s skin. Zhuo Xiao half-heartedly pushed him a few times before going still. “My leg… hubby, my leg!”

Yan Chengming clicked his tongue, lifted Zhuo Xiao’s leg, and pressed him down for a kiss.

…

Now, every time Yan Chengming opened WeChat, he felt deeply guilty. He knew he had wrongfully suspected CEO Zhuo, but it was all just his own one-sided drama, and he couldn’t bring it up directly.

What could he say? “I suspected you had a thing for my wife, got paranoid, gave you the cold shoulder, so I’m sorry”?

Looking back now, CEO Zhuo was truly wronged—an innocent victim.

He changed his previous attitude and began replying to CEO Zhuo’s messages with great enthusiasm, rediscovering his former drive.

Just as he was about to find another excuse to send CEO Zhuo a gift to make up for it, CEO Zhuo sent him a message.

[Zhuo: Sorry, I’ll be traveling abroad for business recently and may not be able to reply promptly. For matters regarding our collaboration, you can contact my assistant.]

[Zhuo: Funds will be transferred to your account soon.]

[Zhuo: [Recommended Contact]]

Meanwhile, at Zhuo Xiao’s studio.

Zhuo Xiao held his backup phone and asked Chen Xi, “Well? Has he added you yet?”

He didn’t dare use CEO Zhuo’s account to say another word to Yan Chengming now, afraid of where things might lead.

Chen Xi nervously stared at the red notification dot on his phone. “Uncle, do I really have to…” carry on the family business?

The phrase inexplicably popped into his mind, and Chen Xi swallowed it back, feeling like crying. Now he was the double agent!

Zhuo Xiao patted his shoulder solemnly. “I think you can definitely do it! I have faith in you! It’s time for you to get involved in business matters. Being a driver is really beneath you.”

“Alright!” Encouraged, Chen Xi perked up.

—

“Congratulations, Brother Yan! The collaboration was a huge success!”

“Brother Yan is truly a legend! How did you manage to win over the legendary Zhuo Group? You’re amazing! You’re my idol!”

The private room was filled with people. Yan Chengming sat in the center, beaming with pride and satisfaction, with Gu Yu beside him like a stabilizing force. Ever since the Zhuo Group transferred the funds as promised, everything had been smooth sailing. Even the previously hesitant fence-sitters seemed to have been fertilized overnight, changing their attitudes immediately. Now, Yan Chengming was in his element, and his company was thriving.

“Come on, Brother Yan, let me pour you some wine.” Someone stood up with a bottle, making a show of pouring into Yan Chengming’s glass.

“Ah, no need. I’ve quit drinking,” Yan Chengming declined.

The person pouring the wine insisted, “What a great day today is! A little drink is just right. Worried about smelling like alcohol when you get home? No problem, I have hangover pills here. Take one later, and I guarantee you’ll be clear-headed in five minutes!” As he spoke, he swayed deliberately.

The clear liquor poured perfectly into Yan Chengming’s glass, wetting his fingers resting on the rim.

The pourer exclaimed, “Oh my! Brother, look how perfect that was? The wine just went right into your glass—it’s fate! It’d be a shame not to drink a little.”

Yan Chengming clicked his tongue, feeling trapped.

Just then, Gu Yu beside him spoke up, “It’s fine, just have a little. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Yan Chengming hesitated, then asked, “Are those hangover pills genuine?”

“Absolutely, absolutely,” the pourer replied, already tipping the bottle again. He only poured half a glass before Yan Chengming stopped him.

“Alright, just a little then,” Yan Chengming conceded.

The group clinked glasses, chatted, and ate for about three hours. As Yan Chengming stood at the restaurant entrance with the hangover pill dissolving in his mouth, Gu Yu drove over, rolling down the window to ask, “Need a ride home?”

Under Gu Yu’s watch, Yan Chengming had indeed only drunk half a glass. His face was flushed, slightly tipsy but not drunk—though certainly not fit to drive.

The hangover pill tasted bitterly unpleasant. Yan Chengming’s head felt a bit dizzy; it had been a long time since he’d had alcohol, and the sudden exposure left his stomach burning. He shook his head, taking a deep breath of the cold winter night air. “No need, I’ll sober up a bit more and have my driver pick me up later.”

Gu Yu said okay, glanced at Yan Chengming twice, then drove off.

Yan Chengming smacked his lips, wandering aimlessly for a while until he spotted a vending machine by the roadside. Squinting at it for a long moment, he bought a pack of candy—sweet, berry-flavored. As he ate it, he couldn’t help but feel it tasted like Zhuo Xiao’s scent.

After lingering a little longer, he pulled out his phone and called Yan Chenrui.

The call connected so quickly that when he heard Yan Chenrui’s “Hello,” his tongue tangled, unsure what to say.

Hearing his silence, Yan Chenrui coldly remarked, “Drunk and causing trouble?”

Yan Chengming snapped back to reality, pausing again before saying, “I secured the Zhuo family’s investment.”

He didn’t even call him “brother.”

Yan Chenrui’s voice quieted for a moment. “I already know.”

Then, after a pause, he added somewhat stiffly, “Congratulations.”

Yan Chengming wanted to ask how Yan Chenrui had been lately, whether Yan Rong had done anything to him, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Yan Chenrui seemed to have developed an “allergy to Yan Chengming,” cutting him off with, “Don’t get sentimental. Go home, it’s cold out,” before hanging up.

Still the same as always—like an unlikable stone.

Yan Chengming clicked his tongue, lowering his gaze to find a small pebble by the roadside. Treating it as Yan Chenrui, he kicked it hard. The pebble bounced off the edge of a nearby fountain, ricocheted back, and hit the ground with a loud thud.

Only then did all of Yan Chengming’s senses fully return to awareness.

A cold wind whistled through, sounding like an old man’s labored breath, even carrying a few scattered snowflakes. Yan Chengming tightened his collar. It really was cold.

But the scent of alcohol still lingered on him, so he thought he’d stay outside a little longer and began walking along the road.

Perhaps walking alone felt too lonely. Yan Chengming picked up his phone again and dialed Zhuo Xiao’s number. “Wife.”

Zhuo Xiao’s voice drifted through the phone, crisp and alluring in the cold wind. “Finished?”

“Mm.” Yan Chengming walked, gazing up at the bright stars in the sky. “The stars are beautiful tonight. Tomorrow must be a good day.”

Listening to the call, Zhuo Xiao walked out to the balcony, where the sky sparkled brightly. Knowing Yan Chengming was in a good mood, he smiled and said, “It will be.”

Yan Chengming walked a bit further, his leather shoes crunching on the road with a gāzhī gāzhī sound. He paused, looking down to see a pile of withered yellow sycamore leaves. Raising his head, he saw the towering sycamore tree, now stripped bare, with only a few stubborn leaves clinging to its branches.

He suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia. “Wife, do you remember when you were in grad school and invited me to your campus? There was a sycamore tree there, its leaves golden and beautiful.”

Zhuo Xiao hesitated for a moment.

Back then, he wasn’t actually a graduate student at that school. He had lied to Yan Chengming, claiming he was. Yan Chengming had clearly grown more enthusiastic about him because of his supposed graduate status, praising his intelligence and often hinting at wanting to visit his campus.

Fortunately, the school had no access restrictions.

Unsure what to do, Zhuo Xiao spent a week wandering around the campus beforehand. In the library, he approached female students preparing for graduate school or civil service exams, pretending to be a first-year graduate student who didn’t know about the school’s online forums.

The female students, charmed by his good looks, told him everything. So Zhuo Xiao spent days and nights browsing the student forums, familiarizing himself with every detail of the campus—where the scenic spots were, which cafeteria windows served the best food—committing it all to memory.

There was a sycamore tree on campus, so large and beautiful that it became a popular spot for couples to take photos.

It took him a week of preparation before he dared to invite Yan Chengming to visit. The two of them acted like the most ordinary campus couple, eating at the most popular cafeteria window, strolling hand in hand along the gravel paths, and finally sharing a kiss under the sycamore tree.

No one knew that, at the time, they were merely a kept man and his sugar daddy, brought together by Zhuo Xiao’s deception.

Later, Zhuo Xiao actually did become a graduate student at that school, lying to Yan Chengming that the program lasted three years when it was only two.

His thoughts drifted far away until Yan Chengming’s voice brought him back. Collecting himself, he replied, “I remember. Why?”

Yan Chengming said, “I saw one that looks just like it. The restaurant I went to earlier was pretty good. I’ll take you there next time.”

As he spoke, Yan Chengming turned into a narrow alley. The light seemed to vanish there, leaving only a stagnant darkness. He didn’t pay it much mind—partly because he was always bold and a firm believer in materialism, unconvinced of ghosts or spirits, and partly because his attention was entirely on Zhuo Xiao’s voice on the phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

So, when footsteps echoed in the alley, he didn’t notice at first until the sound grew closer and closer—

Yan Chengming spun around abruptly. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

His loud shout fell into the quiet air, met by a faint echo or two, as if mocking him for overthinking.

The phone transmitted Zhuo Xiao’s worried voice. He seemed to have stood up, then anxiously asked, “What’s wrong, what’s wrong, honey?”

Yan Chengming frowned slightly. The uneasy premonition in his heart hadn’t faded yet, but to keep Zhuo Xiao from worrying, he said, “It’s nothing, I’m fi—”

He had only spoken halfway when a glaring blue light illuminated the pitch-black field of vision, likely from a phone flashlight. Yan Chengming instinctively closed his eyes.