What would Yan Bozong think of him? Qi Liangqin was too ashamed to know the answer, but he guessed it wouldn't be anything good. If, in the past, Yan Bozong could still brush things off as accidents or overthinking on his part, then now—being as perceptive as he was—he had likely seen through Qi Liangqin's fickle and shameless nature.
A man as upright as Yan Bozong probably looked down on people like him. Let alone the fact that there was still Yan Songwei between them—even if it were a random married couple trying to seduce him, Yan Bozong would undoubtedly cast them aside like worn-out shoes.
Qi Liangqin wanted, at the very least, to maintain an image of respectability in front of Yan Bozong. Regardless of gender, people always sought to present the best version of themselves before those they liked, hoping to earn their favor—even if they had nothing to gain from it. Yet everything he had done so far seemed to be testing the limits of Yan Bozong's patience.
Yan Bozong was a man of integrity, and because of that, he disdained Qi Liangqin's fickleness. But for the same reason, he also chose to ignore these subtle provocations rather than openly rejecting him. Without a word, he simply got up and walked out.
Everyone else was focused on their game of mahjong and didn't notice his departure—except for Qi Liangqin. Yet, Qi Liangqin pretended not to see, keeping his gaze fixed on the mahjong table.
A moment later, Yan Bozong appeared outside in the garden, a cigarette between his lips.
He wasn't a heavy smoker. The novel mentioned that he only smoked occasionally—perhaps the one and only flaw in his otherwise perfect character. But Qi Liangqin didn't mind. As a man himself, he had, on occasion, smoked a cigarette or two—on his birthday, during New Year's, or at certain moments when he felt the need for it.
For him, smoking was tied to specific emotions, and because of that, he could understand why others smoked as well. A man without cigarettes or alcohol always seemed to lack a bit of worldly charm, making everything feel unsettlingly sterile. Moderate or occasional indulgence was something he could accept.
He glanced up now and then while playing mahjong, stealing glances at Yan Bozong, who stood in the spring sunlight, exhaling wisps of smoke. But his gaze was caught by Yan Yuan, who noticed and turned to glance outside. While drawing a tile, she casually remarked to Madam Yan, "Big Brother doesn't seem to be in a good mood this time."
"Really?" Yan Songwei looked out at Yan Bozong.
"Even if he was or wasn't, you wouldn't be able to tell. You're too dense."
Yan Songwei chuckled. "Honestly, that's something I admire about you. How do you even tell? Big Brother's always been the same—neither too warm nor too cold. To me, he looks the same 365 days a year. I've never seen him particularly happy, nor have I ever seen him truly upset. He keeps everything bottled up inside. Look at other brothers—they drink together, chat, go out for fun. But Big Brother never talks to me about what's on his mind."
Yan Yuan smirked. "That's because he knows it's pointless telling you. And besides, just because he doesn't say anything, doesn't mean you don't talk. Don't you always go on and on, venting to him whenever something bothers you?"
Yan Songwei laughed. "Alright, then tell me—how did you tell he's in a bad mood?"
"It's simple. Big Brother rarely smokes. He only does it when he's agitated. Every time he smokes, it's either because he argued with Shen He or because something's wrong at work. You know how much Shen He hates smoking, and Big Brother has always been very restrained about it."
Hearing this, Yan Songwei suddenly let out a muffled laugh, keeping his head down as he sorted his mahjong tiles. "He's not that restrained."
As soon as he finished speaking, he looked up—only to be met with a sharp glare from Madam Yan. He quickly lowered his head again, stifling his laughter. Yan Yuan smirked. "I think you're asking for a beating."
Qi Liangqin silently compared the two brothers in his mind. He felt that Yan Songwei was more suited for romance or friendship—young, fun, and full of life. Yan Bozong, on the other hand, was the kind of man one would want to marry—steady and reliable.
Because he wasn't very skilled at mahjong to begin with, and his mind was elsewhere, Qi Liangqin lost terribly. By the time they settled the scores, he realized he had lost over ten thousand yuan.
He nearly collapsed in his chair, utterly mortified, before turning to Yan Songwei in embarrassment. He didn't have that kind of money.
"Don't look at me," Yan Songwei teased. "You were playing on behalf of Big Brother. Go ask him to cover it."
By then, Yan Bozong was no longer in the courtyard—he had likely gone back to his room. Qi Liangqin stood up in a panic. Seeing his almost tearful expression, Yan Yuan laughed. "Come on, Liangqin, don't be stingy. Hurry up and pay up! I'm treating everyone to dinner tonight."
"I didn't expect the stakes to be this high…" Qi Liangqin muttered. He had watched his cousins play mahjong before, and the worst loser usually lost no more than a couple hundred yuan. He had forgotten—this was the Yan family. Money wasn't something they cared about.
Yan Songwei started packing up the mahjong tiles and said to Yan Yuan, "You won the most, so you should be the one treating us. Mom, we need to make sure we eat well tonight and get our money's worth."
Madam Yan laughed. "I know just the place—enough to make her cough up all her winnings. Let's bring Aunt Chun, too. And your Big Brother." Feeling good after the game, she turned to Qi Liangqin with a smile. "Well, Liangqin, hurry up and pay up."
With no other choice, Qi Liangqin went inside. As Yan Songwei entered to change his clothes, Qi Liangqin quickly grabbed him. "I don't have that much money in my wallet. What should I do?"
"Why are you paying for it yourself? Like I said, you were playing on Big Brother's behalf. Win or lose, it's on him. He won't care about this small amount. Just go and ask him for it… or do you want me to do it for you?"
Qi Liangqin flushed in embarrassment. "You're not short on money either… Why don't you cover for me?"
"No way. If Mom finds out, she won't be happy. Mahjong is for fun, but if we start ignoring the wins and losses just because we're family, then what's the point? Keeping track makes it more exciting for the next game. You don't need to feel awkward—it's just a small amount, no one here cares. Just go tell Big Brother how much you lost, and he'll give it to you."
Qi Liangqin felt anxious, but Yan Songwei's reasoning made sense. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the room and walked to Yan Bozong's door.
He knocked.
"The door's unlocked. Come in."
Qi Liangqin pushed the door open and stepped inside. This was his first time entering Yan Bozong's bedroom, and he immediately noticed how different it was from Yan Songwei's. It felt cold—not just in color scheme but in overall ambiance. The furnishings were minimalistic, devoid of warmth. It didn't feel like a space where a married man lived, but rather the home of a bachelor.
"You lost?" Yan Bozong, seated at his desk, asked directly. "How much?"
"Ten thousand three hundred…"
"That much?"
Qi Liangqin's face burned even redder. "I'm sorry… I don't know how to play. I shouldn't have played for you…"
Yan Bozong chuckled. "It's fine. We're family. No matter who loses, the money stays in the house." Then he raised his voice toward Yan Yuan, "Do you want cash or a transfer?"
Her voice rang out from the living room, "Of course, a transfer! Big Brother, don't be stingy—round it up and make it an even eleven thousand!"
Smiling, Yan Bozong pulled out his phone and completed the transfer.
Qi Liangqin stood there awkwardly, feeling like he shouldn't linger any longer. Without another word, he turned and left the room.
He swore to himself that he would never play mahjong with this family again. Ten thousand was simply too much—even if it wasn't his own money, he still felt awful about it.
The last time he had felt this way was back in college. It was during his graduation year, when he and a few close female classmates went out for a meal together. Qi Liangqin was usually frugal, but he also cared a lot about saving face. Since he was dining with a group of girls, he volunteered to cover the bill—feeling too embarrassed to suggest splitting it.
Then the restaurant server told him, "That'll be nine hundred."
His face immediately went pale. "Nine hundred?"
The server smiled brightly at him. "It's 150 per person, handsome. There are six of you."
What kind of hotpot cost 150 per person? He had eaten plenty of hotpot before, and it was usually 30 or 40 per person—50 at most. Sichuan hotpot places were everywhere; how could this one be so expensive?
His face turned even paler. "I didn't bring that much cash. Is there an ATM nearby?"
"Go out, turn left. There's an Agricultural Bank ATM next to the Metersbonwe store."
Qi Liangqin bolted out of the restaurant. He still vividly remembered that scorching summer day—cars zooming past at the intersection, the hot air hitting his face, making him feel dizzy. When he returned with the cash, his heart ached with every step.
After paying the bill, he sat back down and ate an unusually large amount. One of the girls, surprised, laughed and said, "Wow, you sure can eat."
Qi Liangqin just chuckled awkwardly and took a few more sips of red wine.
One of his close female classmates suggested, "This restaurant is quite expensive. Why don't we just split the bill?"
"No, no need. It's my treat."
The moment he said those words, he felt like crying inside, but he had to keep up the act. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he walked out into the summer breeze, playing the role of a generous host.
His personality had many flaws, but being stingy was the one he least wanted people to know about—though, in reality, everyone probably already did.
After he started living alone, he became even more frugal. Once he graduated and fully understood the cost of daily necessities, he developed a habit of comparing prices between Yonghui Supermarket and the small vendors downstairs, just to see which had the cheaper vegetables. He would only buy meat on weekends. The only times he was somewhat generous with money were when buying things for his family or during gatherings with colleagues.
And now, what was supposed to be just a casual game had cost him over ten thousand yuan, making his entire lunch tasteless. Even though it wasn't his money, he still felt terrible about it. Seeing Yan Bozong only deepened his guilt.
His mind kept calculating what ten thousand yuan could do—how many years' worth of clothing it could buy him, how many hundreds of trips to the supermarket it would cover if each visit cost 40 or 50 yuan. He only went shopping every three or four days, which meant that money could sustain him for several years. And if he converted it into steamed buns, that would be over ten thousand buns—enough to last him even longer.
"Why do you look so down?" Yan Songwei asked in a low voice. "Because you lost money?"
Qi Liangqin nodded. "I didn't expect to lose so much. I'm never playing again."
"Since when did you become so stingy? You even took the bus to the hospital last time instead of calling a cab."
"I'm not as rich as you…"
"I don't give you enough money to spend?"
Qi Liangqin's eyes lit up. "Wait, what money did you give me?"
Yan Songwei smirked. "How would I know where you put it? Your money is your own business—I never ask about it. We agreed not to interfere in each other's affairs."
That made Qi Liangqin decide to go back and search for his money properly.
As he walked, he suddenly found it laughable that he had even considered asking Yan Songwei to cover his mahjong losses. What was Yan Songwei to him? He wasn't his real lover. Theirs was a contract marriage. By principle, Yan Songwei wasn't obligated to give him a single cent beyond the terms of their agreement.
And because it was a contract marriage, their finances should be kept separate. It was better for both of them.
He wasn't Yan Songwei's lover, nor was he his kept man. He was merely fulfilling his role in the contract.
Yan Songwei wasn't the fool here—he was.
As soon as he got home, he rummaged through everything and found all of Qi Liangqin's bank cards. But he didn't know the passwords.
He also stumbled upon his marriage contract with Yan Songwei. Skimming through it, he eventually focused on the financial terms.
Yan Songwei had paid him a lump sum of one million yuan.
One million. Qi Liangqin was practically ecstatic!
He had become a little rich lady!
He thought to himself, feeling a bit embarrassed.