After Marrying the Wrong Crazy Husband, I Ran Away with His Baby - Chapter 5

If Xia Yuan had ever switched to a smart touchscreen phone, she would probably have been dragged into the bathroom during a college lecture just to show Qin Mohuai some indecent video call.

Nokia really was a blessing.

In this lifetime, she swore she’d never trade her old button phone for a touchscreen!

Not long after, Qin Mohuai’s call came again. The man’s low, magnetic voice carried a pitiful grievance.
“Ever since I was a child, my parents never loved me. When I was kidnapped, they were still on their honeymoon. And now… even my little sweetheart doesn’t love me anymore.”

The lunatic didn’t just act—he cried hoarsely for effect. “Living really feels meaningless. Why don’t we just die together in bed tonight? A good night’s thrill to end it all.”

For twenty-seven years, Qin Mohuai had lived like an ascetic—cold, restrained, and abstinent. But once the fire was lit, the once-frigid man could spout the most explicit, shameless words.

“…” Xia Yuan’s beautiful face burned crimson against the phone, her soft lips pouting as she shyly blew him a kiss through the receiver.

Qin Mohuai’s voice instantly turned hot and impatient.
“Come to the company. Now. I’ll give you half an hour. For every minute you’re late, baby, tonight you’ll suffer for it.”

So obedient.

After flooding her ears with so much filth, she hadn’t scolded him once—just quietly kissed him instead.

That soft, submissive compliance fed the lurking madness in him, binding him tighter and tighter.

…

Qin Group Headquarters.

The secretary was already waiting in the underground garage. Once Xia Yuan arrived, she was ushered into the CEO’s private elevator straight to the top floor.

Xia Yuan preferred to stay home and rarely attended formal occasions. Wearing her pink beret, she tilted her little head toward the secretarial department out of curiosity.

The busy professionals all looked up at once.

Startled, Xia Yuan quickly retracted her gaze, not daring to look again.
Everyone looked so capable and intimidating.

Little did she know, in their eyes, she was the most capable of all—the only one who could tame the domineering President Qin.

It was said that even Qin Mohuai’s psychologist couldn’t handle him. After every session with him, the doctor would need his own therapy.

Inside the office, Qin Mohuai was lazily flipping through documents, his phoenix eyes languid and proud. The moment Xia Yuan appeared, his gaze darkened.

“Come here.”

Xia Yuan shrugged off her coat and sat down across from him. Her peripheral vision caught sight of a photo frame on his desk.

It was from her birthday.

She held a crumbling piece of strawberry cake, two streaks of cream smeared across her cheeks, her slender shoulders tilting away as she laughed sweetly.

If she remembered correctly, her parents and younger brother had been beside her in that photo. Yet in this frame, they’d all been cut out.

The point wasn’t her family—it was that she hadn’t even known Qin Mohuai when that photo was taken.

Clearly, he’d investigated her background and chosen this particular photo to frame because he liked it.

Qin Mohuai pressed his tongue against his upper palate, a smile tugging at his lips though his patience was thin. He patted his thigh.
“Baby, I meant here.”

There was no need to test his temper over such a small thing. Xia Yuan obediently perched herself on his lap. Face-to-face, they were so close—it was the perfect position for mischief.

“Am I disturbing your work like this?”

“No. You’re making me more efficient.”

“Then… do I have to sit on your lap all the time?”

“Otherwise? Whose lap did you want to sit on?”

The secretary walked in with a file, only to catch the intimate scene head-on. He instantly spun on his heel to retreat.

“Come in,” Qin Mohuai said unhurriedly.

The secretary forced himself forward, eyes lowered, placing the document on the desk without daring to glance sideways.
If he accidentally saw something he shouldn’t… who knew if this mad tyrant would gouge his eyes out.

Qin Mohuai picked up his pen. But then—he felt something hot against his shoulder. He quickly pulled back the little head nestled in his neck.

Her forehead was burning.

“Baby, wake up. You’ve got a fever.”

“Mm…” Xia Yuan mumbled groggily, her words slurred, “It’s your fault… I feel awful.”

“My fault,” Qin Mohuai admitted without hesitation, immediately instructing his secretary to call a doctor.

Her body had been fragile since birth, a flaw carried from the womb that modern medicine could never truly cure. All anyone could do was take care of her meticulously.

And Qin Mohuai had done just that. For half a year he guarded her like she was made of glass, never once allowing her to fall sick. Yet less than a month after moving out, she caught a fever.

It was his fault. He never should have indulged her little game of push and pull.

A minor cold should have been nothing, but Xia Yuze once said his sister never recovered in less than ten days, half a month at best. Their parents and he had always taken turns keeping vigil by her bedside, afraid that her pale, delicate face would suddenly tilt—and she’d be gone.

Now, Xia Yuan burned with fever, dazed and unaware of the storm her illness had set off.

The heartless author of this tale never bothered to explain why Xia Yuan was so frail. The simple answer: her mother hadn’t eaten well during pregnancy, leaving her weak from birth. Without careful nurture, she could easily die young.

Qin Mohuai’s personal doctor—and childhood friend—rushed over, tires screeching. He was none other than Yang Yi, the same burly man Qin Mohuai once pinned down and forced into lipstick-stained kisses.

Yang Yi checked her temperature, lifted her eyelids, pried her mouth open, and even took her pulse.

“Just a fever from the cold. Nothing too serious. But I’ve seen her medical file—weak constitution. Even a little flu lands her in the hospital for weeks. Tsk tsk. She’s been with you half a year and her health hasn’t improved one bit. Have you really been taking care of her?”

“I hired a nutritionist,” Qin Mohuai said tightly. “I supervise every meal. I don’t even let her step on cold floors.”

“But you still let her move out for half a month.”

Qin Mohuai’s jaw clenched. He didn’t argue.

Yang Yi was shocked. When had the high-and-mighty young master of the Qin family ever been struck speechless? Usually, he left others suffering in silence.

Like that one time—forced lipstick, head locked in place—who could possibly resist Qin Mohuai, who’d trained in Muay Thai?

Yang Yi’s gaze drifted to Xia Yuan. She was undeniably beautiful, but her family background was ordinary. And the Qin family had already announced Ouyang Jing as Qin Mohuai’s fiancée.

This girl… she could only ever be the mistress.

…

Shenghai Manor.

When Xia Yuan finally awoke in a place that was both familiar and strange, the golden sunset spread outside her window. Yet she had no mood to admire it—her head pounded as though splitting apart.

“How long… was I asleep?”

“Three days,” Qin Mohuai’s voice was hoarse as he gently patted her back through the blanket.

He hadn’t expected a mere cold to plunge her into unconsciousness for three whole days. The moment her eyes fluttered open, the crushing weight in his chest finally lifted.

“Anywhere still uncomfortable?”

“No…” Xia Yuan murmured. A white towel pressed to her forehead, her eyes rimmed red, her nose flushed pink—like a sickly little bunny sprite.

“I had a nightmare,” she whispered. “I died. I lingered by the Naihe Bridge for so long, wanting to see you… and yet not wanting to see you.”

“Baby,” Qin Mohuai held her hand to his cheek, his eyes softer than ever, full of guilt and tenderness. “Nightmares aren’t real. I’ll keep you safe and healthy, live to a hundred. Just… don’t move out again, alright?”

“Mm. Kiss me.”

Qin Mohuai’s heart melted into a puddle. He cupped her fevered cheeks and rained kisses over her face, coaxing her to recover quickly.

When Qin Mohuai wasn’t spiraling into madness, he was, in truth, an exceptional partner. During nights when her anxiety and insomnia gnawed at her, he would unknowingly take her hand, walk with her beneath the stars. When she grew tired, she could doze on his back; never once did he find her troublesome. Sometimes, he would even pat her small hips lightly to lull her to sleep.

The system chimed in her mind: Male lead’s affection level +84%.

The reminder jolted Xia Yuan back to clarity, forcing her to distance herself from feelings she should never have had.

“If I really died,” she asked softly, “what would you do?”

“Then I’d follow after you,” Qin Mohuai replied without hesitation.

“Badass!” she grinned weakly.

“…Save the sass until you’re better.”