After Marrying the Wrong Crazy Husband, I Ran Away with His Baby - Chapter 43

The rain stopped at midnight. By six in the morning, the streets glistened damp and green.

At this hour, Qin Mohuai’s usual routine was to jog for half an hour, return to the bedroom to cuddle the drowsy Xia Yuan, then get dressed, eat breakfast, and leave for work at eight.

But the Golden Autumn Residential’s environment was poor—the ground littered with broken branches and soggy leaves. The mud made him give up on running today. Instead, he leaned down, kissed the sweetly sleeping beauty, and murmured, “Wife, can I borrow your hand for a bit? … Not saying no means yes.”

Half an hour later, Qin Mohuai left the bedroom refreshed, only to find Xia Yuan’s parents already busy in the kitchen.

Because Xia Yuan was frail, Xia Yi had risen early to stew pork tripe soup to nourish his daughter’s health.

“Good morning, Uncle, Auntie.”

When Qin Mohuai put on his serious face, his features were handsome and dignified, carrying a refined, aristocratic aura that made people instinctively respectful.

The Xia couple couldn’t help but treat him more politely, their disdain from last night somewhat eased.

After greeting them, Qin Mohuai went out briefly. When he returned, he carried a large food container in his hand.

The container was crafted from huanghuali wood, antique in design, resembling a work of art.

Liang Min asked curiously, “What’s that?”

“Takeout,” Qin Mohuai replied.

It had been delivered personally by the manager of Elegant Pavilion. Normally, they didn’t do delivery—but rules didn’t apply when Qin Mohuai was a major shareholder.

Liang Min was stunned before sighing in admiration. Life among the wealthy was truly extravagant!

She thought to herself, once she struck it rich, she’d indulge her family like this too!

Qin Mohuai opened the box and began plating.

Each layer revealed a porcelain bowl of snow-pear double-boiled with golden bird’s nest. Forget the price—tens of thousands per jin—the chef’s skill was even rarer. One spoonful too little made it bland, one spoonful too much turned it cloyingly sweet. His balance was perfection.

After setting out four bowls of bird’s nest, Qin Mohuai also brought out two plates of shrimp dumplings—Xia Yuan’s favorite.

Xia Yi, after surveying the scene, returned stiff-backed to the kitchen, looking like a man defeated.

His one specialty—making nourishing soups—suddenly looked worthless.

Liang Min patted her husband’s back and whispered, “Why compare yourself to professionals? If I compared myself to a Michelin chef, I’d be throwing myself off a building. Our daughter’s been drinking your soups since she was little. How could she possibly dislike them? Don’t belittle yourself.”

Her words eased Xia Yi a little. He tilted his head and leaned gently against her shoulder. “As long as you don’t despise me, I’ll never lose hope in life.”

Liang Min gave him a strange look. “When have I ever despised you? You’re in your forties now—stop saying such self-pitying things. It makes you sound immature.”

“If I acted all mature in front of Sister Min, you wouldn’t fuss over me or spoil me anymore. I don’t want to be ‘perfect’ in everything—that way no one would notice how I feel. I want Sister Min to always care about me.”

He said this while ladling out the pork tripe soup.

Qin Mohuai, sharp-eared as ever, overheard their conversation from the dining room.

He wondered if the house had West Lake Longjing tea. Uncle was quite skilled at brewing green tea.

When Xia Yuan finally woke, Qin Mohuai was no longer at her side. For all his indulgence in bed, he was just as disciplined at work. Many mornings, she woke up to an empty pillow. To say she wasn’t disappointed would be a lie, but she never voiced it to him.

It was true that Qin Mohuai loved her—but he was also an extremely self-centered man. The way he only cared about his own pleasure during intimacy was proof enough.

If she ever told him her feelings, he’d probably cup her face, kiss her, and tease with a smirk, “So reluctant to part with me?” At best, he’d bring her along to the office—but he would never rearrange his schedule for her.

She didn’t want him to abandon work just for her. What hurt was the feeling that, in his eyes, she was nothing more than a plaything. Something he could use recklessly in bed, without tenderness—something he could discard once broken, and replace with another obedient one.

System: “Host, your mission is to capture the mad male lead’s heart, not to fall for him yourself. Guard your own heart!”

Qin Mohuai entered the bedroom and found her staring off into space. So, he helped her get dressed and put on her shoes, squeezed the toothpaste for her, and finally took her hand to breakfast.

Xia Yuan tasted the snow-pear double-boiled bird’s nest. Ever since dating Qin Mohuai, she had no idea how much bird’s nest and fish maw she had eaten—her appetite had become rather spoiled.

“Yashi Pavilion still makes the best bird’s nest. Other restaurants make it sticky and bland—it’s nutritious, but you can’t really taste it.”

Qin Mohuai replied, “You haven’t had it in a while. I thought you’d be craving Yashi Pavilion’s bird’s nest, so I had them deliver it today.”

Xia Yuan set down her bowl. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the tree branches swayed as rain fell again—not in a leaky old courtyard building this time, but in a warm, bright little home.

She asked the system in her mind: After mission one is over, do I have to go back?

On one side were parents who adored her; on the other, a wolf-dog with a keen mind and a temper. She almost wanted to sink into this novel world and never leave.

The system detected her wavering heart and responded in a firm mechanical tone: “Yes. Once Mission One ends, you will return to your original world. If you forcibly remain here, you, your parents, and your friends will witness a decaying ‘Xia Yuan.’”

The words killed her appetite instantly.

After the rain stopped, Qin Mohuai took Xia Yuan out of Golden Autumn Residential and headed straight to Qin Corporation.

“Baby, I know you hate going to work, but you’ve run away too many times. If you don’t want to be chained to the bedroom, come with me to the company, okay?”

Though his tone sounded like a negotiation, it left her no real choice. Any woman with pride would have been driven mad by this.

Xia Yuan, without a shred of pride, only wanted to survive.

“Okay, I’ll go with you to the company.”

“Good girl.”

Qin Mohuai held her hand as they took the elevator straight to the CEO’s office—but there was an unexpected visitor.

Ouyang Jing.

Before Xia Yuan could ask anything, Qin Mohuai’s cold voice cut through: “This is my office, not a marketplace! Who does she think she is, wandering in here like she owns the place?”

Secretary Cao, under pressure, explained, “Sir, the old master granted Miss Ouyang high privileges, including access to your office.”

Qin Mohuai, fiercely territorial, narrowed his dark, cold eyes at Ouyang Jing. “Revoke all her access.” He paused, then added, “And revoke my grandfather’s access to my office as well.”

Even the old master’s access had to go? Secretary Cao tried to reason with him, but Qin Mohuai’s decision was final.

He patted the chair beside him for Xia Yuan to sit and asked, “Didn’t I tell you your resignation will be processed in three days?”

Ouyang Jing’s face darkened. She was technically his fiancée, yet he didn’t spare her an ounce of face.

But she quickly regained composure, speaking lightly: “I’m not here to flatter you, Sir Qin. My parents wanted to invite you to dinner, but couldn’t reach you.”

Flatter him?

Xia Yuan felt personally slighted.

In the original story, the heroine was a resilient little white flower. The mad male lead and other powerful characters admired her personality and were smitten.

But Xia Yuan thought the heroine looked more like a white lotus—somehow very different from the book’s portrayal.