Chapter 10:

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Cheng Shuwen observed the pair. Though their interaction was distant and formal, Shang Chi himself had come. He had even fought someone for Jiang Zhi.
She had doubted Jiang Zhi was telling the truth about the marriage, but now she had no choice but to believe they had genuinely registered.
Previously, she’d schemed relentlessly to marry Jiang Zhi into the Shang family herself. Now, jealousy pricked her.
Hypocrite, she thought inwardly. Saying she wouldn’t marry, then turning around and dragging Shang Chi to the registry? If I hadn’t given birth to a son, would an outsider niece like her even get a chance?
But Cheng Shuwen was perceptive. Right now, currying favor with Shang Chi was paramount.
She retrieved a medicinal ointment from a cabinet and approached them.
Cheng Shuwen pressed the tube into Jiang Zhi’s hand, her voice syrupy sweet. “President Shang may not be injured, but his knuckles are reddened. This ointment soothes and reduces inflammation—it’s excellent. Zhizhi, help President Shang apply it.”
Cheng Shuwen expected this gesture to please Shang Chi. Instead, as soon as her words faded, she was met with a gaze of profound depth, chillingly cold and utterly inscrutable.
Yet, in the next heartbeat, Shang Chi’s lips curved into a perfectly polite smile, as if the previous look had been an illusion.
His deep voice resonated, “Aunt Cheng, is it?” Though the question was for Cheng Shuwen, his dark eyes remained fixed on Jiang Zhi.
The man’s shift in demeanor was too swift for Jiang Zhi to catch the earlier look. Holding the ointment, she blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Yes.”
Cheng Shuwen, chilled by that unfathomable stare, stood trembling, a thin layer of sweat forming on her back.

Shang Chi shifted his gaze fully onto Cheng Shuwen. His thumb rubbed slowly over the silver ring on his index finger, his smile unwavering. “I possess a cold nature. I am fiercely protective, valuing loyalty over reason, and hold little regard for familial ties. What do you think, Aunt Cheng?”
Cheng Shuwen’s heart lurched. How could she fail to grasp his meaning?
He was clearly referencing her earlier act of pushing Jiang Zhi forward and was now declaring himself Jiang Zhi’s shield.
Cheng Shuwen certainly didn’t believe Shang Chi acted out of affection for Jiang Zhi. How could feelings exist between people who’d known each other less than a day?
It was simply the possessiveness of a powerful man asserting itself.
One must consider the master before striking the dog, as the saying went.
Cheng Shuwen dabbed the sweat at her temple, forcing an ingratiating smile. “Naturally, naturally! Our Zhizhi is fortunate to marry you. With you protecting her, we are reassured.”
Shang Chi offered no further reply. The faint, polite smile lingered on his lips—perfectly correct yet radiating palpable pressure.
Jiang Zhi hadn’t expected the man to defend her so bluntly. A strange flutter stirred in her heart.
The recent drama hadn’t escaped Qin Mingsheng. He’d witnessed Cheng Shuwen pushing Jiang Zhi out, and he’d seen Shang Chi challenge his wife over it to shield Jiang Zhi.
His perception shifted subtly, though it required further proof.
Qin Mingsheng approached Shang Chi with the demeanor of a businessman. Years steeped in commerce had endowed him with considerable presence, though it paled next to Shang Chi’s. Still, he carried his own distinctive authority.
The two men faced each other like opposing parties in a negotiation, exchanging simple introductions.
“Qin Mingsheng. Jiang Zhi’s uncle.”
“Shang Chi. Jiang Zhi’s husband.”
As he spoke, Shang Chi glanced at Jiang Zhi beside him and continued, “Our visit today was abrupt. Jiang Zhi and I will return another day for a formal call.” Today was clearly not the day for family pleasantries.
Qin Mingsheng replied gravely, “Agreed. Zhizhi must be shaken. Take her home now.”
Shang Chi gave him a slight nod and guided Jiang Zhi out of the Qin residence. The troublemaking thugs had already been dealt with by Zhou Xu during their conversation.
Qin Mingsheng watched Shang Chi disappear through the doorway, then looked down at the thin sheen of sweat on his own palm.
No wonder he established himself so swiftly in just half a year. That innate aura… a single look is hard to withstand.
Such a powerful man. If he loves you, he can lift you to the heavens.
If he doesn’t… he can bury you deep in the earth, with no hope of escape.
The deed was done. Qin Mingsheng could only hope for the former.

Meanwhile, Jiang Zhi followed Shang Chi into the back seat of the car. The driver started the engine, heading towards No. 7 Villa.
The man closed his eyes as soon as he sat down, seemingly resting. Yet, Jiang Zhi could still feel the heavy, oppressive aura emanating from him.
She shrank into her corner, trying to minimize her presence.
Half an hour later, they finally arrived at No. 7 Villa.
As they entered, the cavernous foyer presented an unavoidable sight: several large bags containing Jiang Zhi’s daily necessities and clothes sat squarely in the center of the entrance.
She quickly stepped around Shang Chi, moving the bags aside while explaining, “I left in a hurry earlier and hadn’t had time to put them away yet.”
As she spoke, a soft thud sounded—something had fallen to the floor.
Intent on stowing the bags, Jiang Zhi had already moved several steps away before turning back. The fallen item was now two meters behind her.
Shang Chi had reached it. He bent down and picked it up.
When Jiang Zhi saw what it was, her face burned crimson, hot with mortification.
The man lowered his gaze. As his eyes landed on the object, his fingers visibly stilled for a fraction of a second.
A flimsy white silk and lace bra dangled incongruously from his large hand—a hand defined by prominent knuckles and veins. The visual contrast was jarring.
Jiang Zhi wished the floor would swallow her whole. Digging a hole to disappear wouldn’t be enough.
The worst part? This was the free gift from the lingerie store’s “Buy Three, Get One Free” promotion—a sheer, daringly cut, intensely sensual piece!
The air froze. Awkwardness thickened, laced with an unexpected undercurrent of tension.
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Shang Chi’s expression remained utterly composed. Calmly holding the bra by its strap, he walked steadily towards her.

“You dropped something.” His deep, magnetic voice sounded near her ear, as casual as commenting on the weather.
The oppressive aura he’d carried earlier seemed to have receded, replaced by something less intimidating.
Jiang Zhi fought to appear unflustered. She reached out, took the bra, stuffed it quickly into her bag, and offered a tight smile. “Thank you.”
No sooner had she spoken than she turned, desperate to hide the incriminating item away.
But she’d barely taken half a step when his voice, low and resonant, stopped her. Its tone was perfectly serious, yet held a thread of unmistakable amusement. “The fabric feels quite soft.”
He paused deliberately, then added, slow and deliberate, “The design is rather nice, too.”