Chapter Forty-Seven: The Mysterious Text Message

Shen Huaiqing took out her phone to check the time—there really were only two days left. If Fu Chen hadn’t mentioned it, she would have entirely forgotten. Her cycle was never regular, after all, and she rarely kept track, always judging by how her body felt.

A trace of surprise and confusion flashed in her eyes as she asked, almost dazed, “How did you know?”

Fu Chen caught every nuance of her reaction. His gaze softened in the cool, thin night, his voice gentler than before. “How could I possibly let you know everything?”

He smiled warmly, the corners of his lips curving ever so slightly, a smile as light and effortless as drifting clouds.

In that moment, a gentle warmth seemed to ripple through Shen Huaiqing’s heart, filling her chest with a tender, soft emotion.

“Your food’s ready!” The owner called out cheerfully, holding up a bag for Shen Huaiqing.

Seeing her standing there in a daze, Fu Chen quickly stepped forward, accepted the bag, and politely said, “Thank you.” As he spoke, he scanned the code and paid.

“Are you planning to become this place’s mascot now?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about how to deal with your mother, and I zoned out for a second.” Shen Huaiqing took the barbecue awkwardly, her ears flushing red. She hurried toward the car, afraid Fu Chen might see through her.

Fu Chen strolled back at a leisurely pace, parked the car somewhere more secluded, then slouched lazily in his seat, staring fixedly at Shen Huaiqing as she ate.

Deliberately, Shen Huaiqing avoided his gaze. “How come you eat this kind of street food?” She needed something to say, otherwise the air inside the car felt so thick and sticky, it might as well be tangible.

Fu Chen folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the dark ceiling of the car. “I ate it all the time growing up,” he said slowly. “Besides, I could tell you didn’t eat enough back at the old house.”

He turned his face to look at her. The yellow glow of the streetlamp softened his usually sharp jawline.

Shen Huaiqing paused, a sudden curiosity welling up inside her about Fu Chen’s true background. Was he really an illegitimate child? Then where was the legitimate son? Did she and Fu Chen share a similar childhood? Were they the same kind of people, drawn together by the same wounds?

“Fu Chen.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Could you tell me about your childhood? Or maybe your story with Lin Yiqing?”

Fu Chen reclined lazily in his seat, glancing at her with disinterest. “There’s nothing worth saying. Just eat, then we’ll go back.”

The chime of an incoming message interrupted Shen Huaiqing’s next words.

“Don’t let Fu Chen fool you.” The message came from an unfamiliar number. She hadn’t even processed it when another message arrived—a high-resolution photograph.

In the picture, Fu Chen was kissing Lin Yiqing. The image was so clear, you could see the tenderness and affection in Fu Chen’s eyes.

Shen Huaiqing had always known that when Fu Chen didn’t come home, he was probably with Lin Yiqing. Still, seeing the photograph made her chest feel as though it was crushed beneath a stone; she could hardly breathe.

But she wasn’t someone so easily manipulated. She immediately dialed the number.

It rang twice, but no one answered.

Fu Chen noticed the sudden coldness in her expression as she looked at her phone and sensed something was wrong. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing. Just a spam message,” she replied, tucking her phone away and forcing a smile.

“Let’s go. I’m full,” she said, lifting her chin to look at Fu Chen with a smile.

Fu Chen pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded silently.

The rest of the drive, Shen Huaiqing sat quietly, her mind in turmoil. She had always known about Fu Chen and Lin Yiqing, and she thought she could accept it. But seeing it with her own eyes—like at the Beishan villa, or just now in that photo—made it impossible.

She glanced at the photo on her phone, then stared hard at Fu Chen’s face. He had shown her that same gentle expression before, but if he gave that same tenderness to someone else, didn’t it become meaningless?

A shadow flickered in her eyes as she tightened her grip on her white leather purse, squeezing it so hard the material creased.

Fu Chen kept glancing at her, noticing her discomfort and unease.

“If there’s something troubling you, you can tell me. You said it yourself—we’re partners.” His gentle tone reached her ears.

Yet what should have been a comforting remark only left a bitter taste for Shen Huaiqing. Fu Chen would never say such things to Lin Yiqing; he would give her everything, unconditionally. Only Shen Huaiqing still needed to offer something of value to Fu Chen.

How ironic. A self-mocking smile curled her lips.

“I said it’s nothing.”

Fu Chen’s brow furrowed. She had been fine just moments ago—how could her mood change so quickly? This woman was truly impossible to read.

Shen Huaiqing would never simply resign herself to fate. Now that she knew someone was on the opposite side of Fu Chen, she would seize the opportunity.

Her fingers flew across her phone, composing a message on WeChat.

“He An, can you find out who owns this phone number?” She sent the number to Yu Yunxi’s cousin, a police officer.

He An replied almost immediately: “President Shen, I’m off duty today. When I go back to work tomorrow, I’ll see if I can check for you using the police system.”

“Great, thanks. This number’s been harassing me for a couple of days now. I really appreciate your help,” she replied with a casual excuse, hoping to make He An take it seriously.

“No problem. I’ll contact you as soon as I find anything.”

“By the way, President Shen, did you know that Mu Jinghuai was released yesterday?”

Shen Huaiqing had always admired He An’s character. She made a mental note to promote him when the time was right; someone like him would be invaluable.

“I know. Thank you,” she replied politely, a smile tugging unconsciously at her lips.

But Fu Chen caught the scene and snapped impatiently, “Just got out and you’re already chatting?”

To Fu Chen, only Mu Jinghuai could make Shen Huaiqing smile like that.

Shen Huaiqing was baffled. “What are you talking about?”

“You bare your teeth at your own husband, but you smile so brightly at another man.” There was a hint of jealousy in Fu Chen’s tone, though he himself was unaware of it.

Now Shen Huaiqing realized he was referring to Mu Jinghuai, and her eyes darkened.

“Maybe you should get your brain checked at the hospital tomorrow. You’re clearly not well,” she retorted, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

She hadn’t even brought up Lin Yiqing yet, and now he was turning things around on her. Ever since Mu Jinghuai’s release, she’d barely had time to send him a message, having spent all her energy dealing with Fu Chen’s family.

And now, for no reason at all, Fu Chen was acting petty.

“Shen Huaiqing, I’m warning you: when you’re with me, you’re not to chat with Mu Jinghuai, and you’re not to mention him.”

Fu Chen’s foot pressed harder on the gas, his tone brooking no argument.