Chapter 10 My Male Wife

Chapter 10: My Male Wife

"What, not hoping it's me?" Xu Lingzhi tilted her head, smiling brightly.

Lin Zaishan raised an eyebrow slightly, not taking the bait: "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Just a coincidence." She shrugged, all innocence.

"Coincidence." He twitched the corner of his mouth, not exposing her, nor bothering to. If he couldn't see through a little girl's intentions, he'd have wasted all these years.

Two weeks ago, Lin Zaishan met a girl named Kelly on a business trip to City D.

At the time, Kelly was with a group of girlfriends at a bar, sitting in the booth next to his. Before the night was even half over, she came over to hit on him. Lin Zaishan didn't refuse. Not that he was after anything—just that having more people around, a bit of noise, could temporarily pull him out of the shadow of "I'm about to fucking marry a man."

Those days, he took Kelly and her friends all over City D—nightclubs, yachts, private kitchens. Spending lavishly, smiling appropriately, on the surface it was the usual flirting routine, no different from any other act. But in truth, Lin Zaishan's mind wasn't there at all. When Kelly called him "hubby," he didn't respond, nor did he deny it—he was too drunk to bother explaining.

Who knew that "hubby" would follow him all the way to today?

Today he just found out that Kelly was none other than Xu Lingzhi.

What a small fucking world.

"Wina said you two broke up," Xu Lingzhi crossed her arms, staring at him intently. "So why did you tell me you weren't single? You're the one who did it on purpose, aren't you?"

Lin Zaishan's brow twitched: "You know Wina?"

The words were out before he realized they were redundant. As Sun Lanru's daughter, she naturally moved in the same circles as Zhang Weina. Sure enough, Xu Lingzhi didn't answer, just gave him a cryptic look.

Lin Zaishan didn't feel like playing games with her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back half a step: "I really am not single. You heard it—I'm already married."

"That day I called you 'hubby,' you didn't deny it."

"That day I was drunk," he suddenly smiled, the corner of his mouth curling into a slightly roguish arc. "If you'd called me 'wifey,' I probably wouldn't have denied that either."

Xu Lingzhi froze, clearly stunned. That effortless, in-control smile was completely frozen on her face.

Lin Zaishan didn't look at her again. He raised his hand, patted her shoulder perfunctorily like he was sending off a misbehaving junior, then turned and headed back to the private room.

He liked Xu Lingzhi's cleverness—it wasn't annoying. But women who show off their intelligence too much actually come off as cheap. He never went for that kind of woman—even if he wasn't married, she wouldn't be in his consideration.

"What if I don't mind?" Xu Lingzhi's voice chased after him from behind.

Lin Zaishan stopped in his tracks.

He turned around and gave Xu Lingzhi a once-over from head to toe. She was standing there, staring straight at him, clearly not joking.

He looked at her for two seconds, then his tone turned flat, even a little helpless: "You don't mind, but I do, alright?"

Then he added another stab: "Say that nonsense again, and I'll tell your mom."

Xu Lingzhi stood frozen in place.

Without looking back, he turned and walked away.

When he returned to the private room, the dishes were mostly cleared. Lin Yajun was chatting with Sun Lanru about a new SPA place. When she saw him come in, she glanced up. Yuan Che was still sitting in his original spot, having eaten about a third of his salad, head down, poking at the last few cherry tomatoes with his fork.

Lin Zaishan didn't sit down. He greeted the two elders, then tossed his chin at Yuan Che: "Let's go."

Yuan Che was startled for a moment, then put down his fork and stood up. He said polite goodbyes to Lin Yajun and Sun Lanru before following out. As they left, they ran into Xu Lingzhi, who was about to enter. Lin Zaishan sidestepped half a step, gave her a polite nod, and kept walking. As they brushed past, the person behind him paused—clearly about to say something.

Lin Zaishan didn't give him the chance. He grabbed Yuan Che's wrist and decisively pulled him away.

The movement was a bit rushed, and he himself noticed. As soon as they were out of sight, he let go. To be precise, he shook it off.

A faint warmth lingered in his palm. He frowned, didn't look at Yuan Che again, and walked straight to the elevator.

Yuan Che stumbled half a step, staring down at the wrist that had been released. He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth secretly curled into a small smile.

This was the second time today he'd touched Lin Zaishan's hand.

Even though it was just a wrist-grab. Even though it was released right away. Even though the action was rough, not even a trace of gentleness. Still, it felt like a spoonful of honey poured over his heart, sweetness spreading from his fingertips to his ears.

Lin Zaishan strode ahead, not looking back, not slowing down. The footsteps behind him paused for a moment, then quickly sped up again, sticking close within three steps.

*Not one to hold grudges*, Lin Zaishan snorted inwardly.

Tonight, he didn't bring a driver; he drove himself. The reason was simple: just in case this guy started kicking up a fuss like his own sister would, with just the two of them in the car, he could handle it—whether or not he actually managed to soothe him was still within his control. But if the driver had to witness that scene, he'd truly be mortified.

The car pulled out of the underground garage. The evening rush hour streetlights lit up one by one, but the gaze from the passenger seat hadn't moved since they started driving.

Lin Zaishan pretended not to notice. He sped up, shifted gears, kept his eyes forward. But that gaze seemed to have grown legs, sticking to him the whole way—not noisy, not fussing, just staring.

He held out for half the trip before finally turning his head.

The moment their eyes met, the person in the passenger seat flinched as if scalded, swiftly whipping their face toward the window, leaving him with only a red-tipped ear.

Lin Zaishan withdrew his gaze and tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel.

*So easily flustered.*

He added another mental note to this male wife's file: thin-skinned, easy to handle.

In the quiet of the car, the more Lin Zaishan thought about it, the more amusing it seemed. After passing the next green light, he couldn't help but turn his head, a hint of teasing in his tone: "What, afraid I'll eat you?"

Yuan Che jerked his head back, waving both hands: "No no! That's not what I meant..."

Then he turned his face away to the other side, this time practically pressing it against the car window.

Lin Zaishan glanced at him, tone idle: "If you've got something to say, say it."

No response from that side again.

Fine, don't talk then. Lin Zaishan looked away, focusing on the road. He'd already done enough to be polite today; no need to go out of his way to soothe someone.

The car glided through two blocks. Suddenly, a voice came from beside him—

"You seem... thinner."

Lin Zaishan didn't catch it clearly. He tilted his head slightly: "What?"

The next second, a hand landed on his shoulder, warm breath right in his ear: "I said—"

He slammed on the brakes.

Tires screeched against the pavement. The car skidded diagonally and stopped in the middle of the road. Lin Zaishan clutched his ear, his entire body practically springing against the door. He whipped his head around, staring with genuine horror:

"You... what the hell are you doing?!"

Yuan Che was taken aback by the shout, blinking innocently, a layer of grievance slowly spreading across his face: "I-I just wanted to talk to you..."

Lin Zaishan took a deep breath, his temples throbbing. He pressed his fingers to his brow, trying to keep his voice steady: "Just sit there and talk. I can hear you."

"But you didn't hear me just now."

"That's because I was driving."

"Exactly," Yuan Che said matter-of-factly. "You were driving, so I had to lean in closer to talk."

Lin Zaishan was left speechless.

He stared at Yuan Che for two seconds, quickly tracing the logic in his mind—and couldn't find a flaw.

Alright, he's good at talking his way out of things.

Without another word, he restarted the car, turned the wheel, pulled back onto the road, and parked neatly at the curb.

There was no way he could drive now. The breath of another man, so close just a moment ago, was too real—too real for him to keep fooling himself with avoidance.

He'd avoided the issue for half a month, but in the end, he still had to face it.

Lin Zaishan had always despised people who ran from their problems. Face the storm head-on, deal with whatever comes—that was his principle. But he never thought that, at nearly thirty, he'd turn into a coward too.

The question was: how the hell was he supposed to solve this?

This marriage had been a dead end from the start. If it weren't for what happened to the Lin family, when would Lin Zaishan ever let someone else choose his wife? The Yuan family? In A City's social circle, if you said "Yuan Jingtian," half the people would ask, "Who's that?" That little island in that godforsaken corner—even if you acted like a local tyrant, on the mainland you were nothing but an upstart.

But now? Rumors were circulating that the Lin family was bankrupt, drowning in debt. And here he was, marrying a nouveau riche—anyone with half a brain could see what was happening.

Money had arrived, so face had to be tossed aside.

Lin Zaishan turned his head, his gaze falling on Yuan Che's face. That face still carried a hint of grievance, looking back at him with eyes as clear as a puppy's.

Forget it. Treat it like business.

Lin Zaishan wasn't clueless. He'd seen the world; he'd bowed his head before. Back in the early days, right after Feng Tai left, he'd run the company alone. What kind of groveling hadn't he done at those banquets? Smiling, nodding like a sycophant, drinking until he vomited blood and ending up in the ER—he'd done it all. But through it all, he'd never let Lin Yajun worry about a thing. If the old lady wanted to buy something, she would buy it; if she fancied a piece of land, he'd pay without batting an eye. Women shouldn't have to worry about money—that was a principle he'd held since childhood.

His girlfriends were no different. He'd given his all to every one of them, pampering them as if they were precious, sending cars, houses, and gold cards without hesitation.

Now that his partner was a man—so what?

The Yuan family had paid up. In business, whoever had more money was the boss. Since he'd taken the money, he couldn't do wrong by their son. What was it, just spoiling someone? You could spoil a man the same way—keep him well taken care of, and once the company turned around, send him back just as he was. That would be a successful conclusion.

Yes. That's how it would be.

Lin Zaishan finished psyching himself up, and when he looked at Yuan Che again, his eyes softened.

He raised a hand and placed it on that face.

The skin was smooth, softer than he'd imagined. The moment his fingertips touched the cheek, those eyes flew wide open, lashes trembling violently, like a startled little animal.

Lin Zaishan suppressed his awkwardness and gently stroked his cheek with his fingers.

Once. Twice.

The temperature shot up.

The car was dimly lit, but he didn't need to see—he knew that face was bright red. Those long lashes were still quivering, and he was holding his breath.

Little by little, the intimate atmosphere expanded.

The atmosphere was finally right. He withdrew his hand, ready to say something—reassurance, a promise, whatever. He needed to add a line to this performance. Romantic. Tender. Not to a man, but to a lover, a wife, a spouse.

He opened his mouth.

Then stopped.

An absurd question suddenly popped into his head—

What was my wife's name again?