**Chapter 17: Scar-Prone Constitution**

Ten seconds.
Twenty seconds.
Thirty seconds.

Qin Mang’s fingertips instinctively climbed onto the man’s shoulder. Her nose brushed against that tiny seductive red mole—was it unintentional, or on purpose?—grazing along the man’s sharply defined jawline.

Her already lush and beautiful lips, rubbed against the fabric, began to flush a decadent red.

The key issue was—

She’d been biting at it for ages…

But that button didn’t budge an inch.

“…”

It was just awkward.

Qin Mang lifted her lashes and snuck a glance—

Through the thin lenses of his glasses, she locked eyes with the man’s amused and deep gaze.

“Roleplay?”

The man’s long fingers brushed casually across the corner of her lips as he undid his own button, finally speaking.

His cool, crisp voice teased like a mist in the damp, quiet air, laced with amusement: “Hmm? So is Mrs. He playing… a puppy with weak teeth?”

Qin Mang, whose body was previously seductive and serpentine, almost lost her composure on the spot.

“You son of a—” Damn it.

She had finally learned a very dirty phrase and hadn’t even gotten to finish it before—

The alarm bells in her mind rang out, echoing Meng Ting’s devilish mantra, “Which office worker isn’t carrying a heavy load?” Not to mention all those failed takes during filming, her inability to get into character holding up production…

Qin Mang had always been proud. “Not being capable” was something she absolutely could not tolerate.

In short, everything was for the sake of the role. For her acting career. What was a little hardship?

She took a slow breath. The flickering emotions in her beautiful eyes gradually faded, restoring their jet-black clarity—and determination.

She could endure a little longer.

Worst case, she’d just chant a few extra Buddhist prayers later.

The button still needed to come off.

Qin Mang’s fingers brushed over the stiff, military-style costume slung over her arm.

It completely clashed with He Lingji’s proper, buttoned-up shirt.

The next second—

She suddenly reached out like a little wolf and yanked the already loosened button off with force.

Looking innocent: “The button… was a little tight.”

“Well, it’s off now.”

Caught off guard by the move, He Lingji didn’t expect it.

His neatly buttoned shirt opened slightly, revealing pale collarbones beneath—his normally cool and noble aura now tinged with an unruly edge.

That dominating wildness instantly emerged.

Yes! That was the vibe!

Remembering her goal, Qin Mang quickly draped the retro military uniform—one she’d been carrying around all night—over him. Then she removed the thin-framed glasses from his nose bridge.

Touching her chin, she nodded in satisfaction:

“Finally got the feel.”

“What feel?”

Qin Mang leaned in: “Of course—the warlord boss and his beautiful little wife.”

She declared, “That’s our roleplay theme.”

Deep City’s night was stuffy outside—

Especially with August approaching.

Wrapped in the thick costume, Qin Mang was on the verge of heatstroke, yet still stubbornly waited, refusing to miss him.

“There’s even a script,” she added.

“I’ll grab—” it for you.

Before she could finish, the coat draped over He Lingji’s shoulders softly fell onto her head.

Her vision instantly blacked out.

He Lingji relaxed, stepping past her and heading inside, leaving behind a cryptic remark: “Little wife, isn’t it hot outside?”

Of course it’s hot!

Qin Mang was practically melting.

Still trying to be a proper “longing housewife,” she didn’t even bring her little lion fan, worried she might miss him.

She pulled the costume off her head, unusually calm, and like a little tail, hugged the coat and followed He Lingji through the door.

The woman’s slender waist and delicate bones cast a long, graceful shadow, slowly blending with the man’s tall, upright figure.

“President He?”

“Wanna play or not\~”

With the sound of the door closing—

And He Lingji’s voice, slightly husky with laughter, “Mrs. He has so warmly invited me…”

Word by word: “Of course, I’ll play.”

The playful tone of that final word curled around her ears, as if it could burrow into the heart.

…

The rooftop terrace—unlike their last visit—had its high-tech arched roof closed, forming a sealed space with a special starry-sky ceiling.

The illusion of dislocated space and strong visual effects made Qin Mang worry that those twinkling stars might fall at any moment when she looked up.

As if she were standing amidst the cosmos.

A faint blush deepened across Qin Mang’s thin eyelids.

Her mind was full of existential doubt—

“Was *this* the kind of playing I meant?”

In the sealed space, only the stars lit the scene.

Her delicate figure, under the cover of night and the man’s tall silhouette, appeared even more fragile and slender, as if she might shatter with a touch.

He Lingji, calm and composed, pulled her into his arms: “Oh? Wasn’t it?”

Qin Mang struggled: “I meant *roleplaying*! *Acting*!”

Acting, not playing!

He Lingji effortlessly caught her flailing wrists, nodding with mock realization: “Ah… so Mrs. He wanted to roleplay a *forcible seduction* scene?”

“I did not! I wasn’t! Don’t say nonsense!”

Qin Mang denied it three times in a row.

He looked down at her, his lashes low.

His grey-blue eyes, in the shifting light, looked like cold, luxurious sapphires—mesmerizing enough to pull one in without resistance.

Qin Mang was inexplicably drawn to those eyes.

In *Dreams of Old Beijing*, the upcoming drama, she had many intense eye-contact scenes with the male lead Jiang Hengyan. But every time, she failed to convey the intimacy the director wanted—she couldn’t feel the “drowning in his eyes” emotion.

No sense of immersion.

Yet at this moment—

A mere glance, and she was already dazed.

Feeling a breeze of cool air, her mind cleared slightly. Remembering her goal, she slowly sat up, hands resting on his shoulders, and her pale fingertips brushed up toward the corner of his eye: “Mind… rehearsing a scene?”

“Your eyes are so beautiful. It’d be a waste not to use them in an emotional scene.”

Qin Mang acted suddenly.

He Lingji’s eyes darkened, like surging waves beneath a calm sea. His breathing, for once, grew heavier.

He pulled out the thin satin ribbon she used to tie her hair.

Her long hair spilled down like a waterfall, covering her delicate back.

“You…”

Before he could finish,

His vision darkened once more.

He Lingji used the crimson ribbon to cover her bewitching eyes.

She had only complimented his eyes—

But she didn’t realize—

To him, her innocent, emotional eyes were the real aphrodisiac.

And this time, he wouldn’t let her take it off.

Their fingers intertwined, the warmth from their palms seemed to seep into each other’s hearts.

“Focus.”

Qin Mang: “…”

Defeated before she could even begin.

This dog of a man, He Lingji, even dared to accuse *her* of lacking focus. She had been *very* focused—on rehearsing!

At some point, the roof opened, and a breeze drifted in.

The long crimson ribbon tied around her eyes fluttered in midair, its end embroidered with a lifelike little white lion.

As the wind blew, the lion shifted shape—

Until time passed, and it settled again, tilting its head atop the ribbon, as if nothing had happened.

—

The next morning.

“Big Miss, did the scene go well? Did President He take the bait?”

Meng Ting called to ask for updates.

Qin Mang stood lazily at the sink, turned on speakerphone, and tossed the phone onto the nearby rack. She focused on washing up.

Droplets of water slid down her snow-white cheeks.

Dampening her already stunning features—especially those eyes. Even with a sulky expression, they shimmered like waves begging for attention.

It annoyed Qin Mang.

She rubbed her eyes with frustration.

…

Still watery!

Her crisp voice, now slightly hoarse: “Mm.”

The moment she made a sound, she realized—

Her voice was gone.

She had cried for most of the night—how could she possibly not be hoarse?

He Lingji, always composed and serious in public, seemingly aloof and abstinent, was in fact a total pervert. Every time they were in bed, he wouldn’t stop until she was crying.

And after making her cry, he’d cuddle her and make her drink water.

To make sure she could keep crying…

To prevent dehydration.

Should she be thanking him for that?

Qin Mang didn’t want to talk anymore.

“You heard that ‘mm’?”

Meng Ting was thrilled and in disbelief. “It worked?”

Just like that?

Qin Mang composed herself a little, then slowly replied with two words, “In your dreams.”

All the excitement Meng Ting was about to let out got stuck in her throat.

“Ai, I knew President He wasn’t that easy to win over. Countdown: 14 days of vacation left. You’ve got to shoot for 3 days, so that gives you 11 days. Make them count.”

Qin Mang brushed him off with a couple of vague replies and was about to hang up.

Meng Ting added one last reminder, “The shoot starts this afternoon. There aren’t any marks left on your body, right?”

“Did you go through the materials? There might be water scenes.”

If any water touches those red marks…

Meng Ting felt like dying just thinking about it.

Marks?

Qin Mang paused for two seconds. Her gaze inadvertently shifted to the full-length mirror nearby.

She was only wearing a thin white silk robe, smooth and soft in texture. The slender belt outlined her delicate figure. The collar was loose, revealing a swath of fair skin, and there weren’t any visible marks.

“Got it, got it,” she said lazily, voice relaxed. “Absolutely none.”

Last night, in her dazed state, she did vaguely remember today’s schedule.

At 6 p.m., one of the magazine cover shoots was set at Shenghe Bay, the top hotel in Shen City.

It was famous for its open-air swimming pool—a paradise of ocean views moved indoors. In midsummer, when the seaside sun scorches mercilessly, this location was a dream for water-themed shoots. The magazine had booked it exclusively for the day at a cost of over a million yuan.

Perfect for someone like Qin Mang, whose body ran hot and couldn’t stand heat.

She had initially thought they’d be going to some beach again for endless sunbathing when she saw the materials.

But the result? Exceptional.

This shoot had a “Classic of Mountains and Seas” theme. The chosen character: a mermaid.

Qin Mang arrived early because the makeup was complicated. She was nearly falling asleep before it was finally done.

When she changed into costume and stepped out—

The once-busy staff froze in awe at her transformation.

Her long snow-white hair cascaded down her body, nearly covering her upper half. As she walked, hints of her slender waist could be seen beneath the strands. Below that: a shimmering iridescent fishtail.

Her expressive eyes, framed by dramatic makeup, highlighted her stunning features.

Tiny, pearly beads decorated the area beneath her eyes. Paired with light blue glitter, and blinged-out scales at the corners of her eyes, they sparkled with a soft glow. Her lashes lifted slowly, revealing deep green pupils—

As if a true ethereal mermaid had appeared before them, her tears turned into pearls.

Qin Mang walked with difficulty. Supported by staff, she finally eased into the water.

Pearl-sized beads were scattered along the pool’s edge, and the clear blue water was dotted with them too, as if mermaid tears had fallen and gathered there.

Once she found the right pose,

Gasps erupted nearby.

“Is it really *that* stunning?”

She casually brushed the white strands from her chest. The soft waves of her hair, paired with the blue-scale shaped top beneath, didn’t even look like clothing—it looked like art draped on her body.

Her lower half was wrapped in a form-fitting mermaid tail that was so heavy, it almost dragged her off the edge.

But shimmering on the water’s surface, it was breathtaking.

The camera loved it.

After checking with the director, Qin Mang sent a selfie showing only her mermaid makeup to He Lingji.

**Little Lion Ao Wu Meow**: \[photo.jpg]
**”Acting alongside a beauty like me is a gift. He Lingji, you’d better not take it for granted!”**
**”When I get home tonight, I want to see you in that warlord outfit!”**

**Cold-blooded Capitalist**: “On a business trip.”

**Little Lion Ao Wu Meow**: “!”

Qin Mang had been lazily leaning on the makeup chair, but after reading those concise words, she suddenly sat upright.

Why now? Why did he have to be on a trip at the most crucial time?! And she couldn’t even follow him—she still had three days of shooting left.

**Cold-blooded Capitalist**: “Busy. Talk later.”

*Talk later?!*
*Your wife’s matters are more important, okay?!*

Qin Mang’s beautiful face turned cold.

Her makeup wasn’t fully removed yet. The deep green in her eyes shimmered under the light, giving her a dangerously seductive look. Furious, she jabbed at her phone screen.

**”Freeloader scumbag!”**

Just as she sent that, multiple messages from Wu Yuxi popped up.

Qin Mang glanced at the screen and suddenly froze.

**#1 Influencer in the Universe**:
**”AHHHHHHHH”**
**”Your He Lingji showed up at a business forum with bite marks all over his neck! Did you know?!”**
**”It’s all over the finance world now!”**
**”Only President He could pull this off—walking around with that kind of destruction on display!”**
**”Wonder if the media will dare publish it.”**

Qin Mang went silent.

All she could think was: *bite marks*, *business forum*, *everyone’s seen them*—

It was practically public execution.

The rooftop had been dark last night.

And later, she’d been blindfolded. She really hadn’t noticed what his neck looked like. But if people were gossiping already, they had to be obvious.

Most people wouldn’t dare step within He Lingji’s social radius.

Seeing that she wasn’t replying, Wu Yuxi hesitantly asked:

**”It was you, right?”**
**”Not some random kitten?”**

**Little Lion Ao Wu Meow**: “Nope. It was a ghost.”

Just as she hit send, Qin Mang was about to message He Lingji but remembered he was probably still in the middle of the forum.

She quickly switched apps and found Assistant Cong’s WeChat.

**”Send me a photo of He Lingji right now!”**

Thirty seconds later:

**\[photo.jpg]**
**”Ma’am, the president is busy.”**

The photo showed He Lingji onstage, speaking.
Assistant Cong had been close enough to get a crystal-clear shot.

Qin Mang’s eyes zeroed in on his neck—

Slender and pale, lined with pinkish red marks that twisted like cracks in ice. Eerily beautiful, incredibly conspicuous.

Her neat little teeth had a faintly sharp canine. It must’ve happened when she was clumsily unbuttoning his shirt by the doorway.

This position—there was no way to blame it on him biting himself.

Worse—

Qin Mang’s pupils dilated. Her fingers slammed the keyboard:

**”What is he, some ice-skin jade-boned princess?!”**

A full-grown man, with skin that delicate?! How?

The marks hadn’t faded *at all* since last night!

Assistant Cong understood full well what her words implied. After all, President He had walked all the way from the company to the forum with that neck, under full scrutiny.

He chose his words carefully:

**”Perhaps the president has… scar-prone skin?”**

*Scar-prone skin your ass!*

More like *princess-prone skin!*

Qin Mang took a deep breath. She wished she could dive into the phone and apply concealer for him herself.

She should’ve gotten up earlier that morning. She *heard* him getting ready—but she just didn’t open her eyes.

Regret. Pure regret.

**Little Lion Ao Wu Meow**:
**”You—go buy him a scarf. Now.”**

Assistant Cong gently reminded her:

**”Ma’am, it’s 36 degrees today.”**

Even if you wanted to murder your husband for the inheritance, there are better ways than this…

At the business forum—

In the post-event media lounge, He Lingji didn’t join the interviews. He lounged lazily on a sofa nearby, fingers holding Assistant Cong’s phone.

Assistant Cong, calm and collected, tried to defend her:
“She’s just worried about you…”

“Mm.”

“Worried you’ll get cold in 36-degree weather. So she wants you to wear a scarf.”

“Pfft—haha! You know what? That actually sounds like something she’d do.”

Nearby, Ruan Qizhuo, one of the younger business elites also attending the forum, witnessed the whole exchange and added:

“If we’re ranking the most caring wives in the circle, yours definitely takes the crown.”

As the only single guy in their married-man group chat, Ruan Qizhuo had suffered enough.

**Now he had finally found an opportunity.**

He Lengji lifted his eyes and glanced at him indifferently. “Marital fun. What, are you jealous?”

“Me? Jealous of you?”

Ruan Qizhuo seemed to suddenly realize something. “Yeah, actually, I *am* a bit jealous. After all, a man like you—being married yet living like you’re single—you’re practically our role model.”

He was on the fringe of the entertainment industry, so naturally, he had firsthand news about Qin Mang.

For instance, she was currently filming a movie.

Director Zhou’s productions were notoriously strict about not allowing long absences. It was likely in just a couple of days, this man would once again be left alone in an empty house.

Pitiful.

Truly pitiful.

Ruan Qizhuo leaned down and threw an arm over his shoulder. “So? Want to grab a drink?”

“We’re the only ones free.”

Their friend group included, besides the two of them, Rong Huaiyan—the darling of the business world in Ling City; Professor Jiang Lingci—a famed academic; and Nan Yun—a top-tier lawyer with an almost perfect record.

They’d all grown up in the same courtyard. Though now spread across different cities, their bond remained as strong as ever.

But the other three were all famously henpecked husbands.

Ruan Qizhuo sighed, “Only the two of us still have real masculinity!”

“It wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t have a drink, huh?”

He Lengji shot him a glance. “Sorry, no time.”

At that moment, the media interview was wrapping up.

He Lengji turned to leave.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Home.”

“!”

“Since when are you so into going home?”

Ruan Qizhuo was in disbelief. This guy, when not busy with work, rarely even stayed in Deep City—he usually headed straight for Ling City.

“My wife is mad. I’m going back to calm her down.”

He Lengji gave him a light, cool glance. “Oh, almost forgot—maybe you’re just missing the quality every married man should have.”

**The only single dog in the group, Ruan Qizhuo: …Fine. You all have quality. I don’t.**

—

He Lengji had just reached the exit when a gutsy reporter stepped in front of him.

“Fortune favors the bold,” as they say—every industry has those who dare to defy the odds.

Like this guy.

“President He, please wait!”

He Lengji’s grey-blue eyes swept over him. His voice was cold. “What is it?”

Meeting those vast, abyss-like eyes, the reporter nearly gave up on the spot. His hand holding the mic froze, throat tightened, but he managed to keep his facial expression under control. “President He, you didn’t attend the group interview earlier. May I ask you one or two questions?”

He Lengji looked down at the reporter’s young, inexperienced face.

He seemed new to the field.

It inexplicably reminded him of Qin Mang.

Clearly pampered and proud by nature, yet once she chose the path of acting, she never once complained about hardship or exhaustion.

He thought of how she had been blowing up in their WeChat chat just moments ago.

His lips curved into a faint smile for a split second.

Secretary Cong and the bodyguards behind him were about to intervene, but He Lengji’s deep, magnetic voice stopped them: “One question.”

The reporter froze.

What?!

President He actually agreed?

Even if it was just one question!

Many other reporters, tempted but too afraid to approach, nearly died of envy.

Wasn’t he the one who *never* accepted interviews?

Why the sudden exception?

They looked at the young man—clearly an average reporter, shorter than He Lengji by a head. He was decent-looking, but not *that* special, right?

The lucky reporter, Chu Jiang, quickly pulled himself together, brain spinning wildly—

This was his *only* question.

It had to be precise and meaningful!

A flurry of hard-hitting questions flew through his mind, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was the simplest one: “Why did you agree to be interviewed by me?”

His brain had gone off script.

And once the words were out, Chu Jiang immediately regretted it.

Crap crap crap!

What kind of useless question was that?! “President He, I-I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that you’ve never accepted interviews before, and I honestly came expecting to be rejected. So when you said yes, I just really wanted to know why…”

Well, he’d asked.

Might as well accept the consequences.

He Lengji could clearly see his panic, but there was no irritation in those deep, cold eyes. Calm and indifferent, as if no one and nothing could ever shake his emotions.

His voice was as detached as ever. “I suppose it’s empathy.”

Amid all the confused stares—

He glanced at the badge on Chu Jiang’s chest that said “Probationary Reporter.” His usually cool, grey-blue eyes rippled slightly as he added slowly:

“My wife is new to the workforce too.”