Chapter 16#
Phoenix Man (2)#
With his parents’ support, Qiao Yi breathed a sigh of relief.
Mrs. Qiao added, “But as for your job, you don’t have to quit just because of Wang Cheng.”
After all, the only reason Wang Cheng could climb up was that Qiao Yi’s uncle was looking out for him. Wang Cheng came from a rural background and wasn’t a local; he had zero influence in the area. Unless he was stupid, he wouldn’t cause a big scene at Qiao Yi’s company over something like this.
Qiao Yi had been wronged, so divorce was inevitable. But divorce was divorce—they were all adults, no need to tear each other apart and lose face in front of outsiders.
Qiao Yi said, “He’s only one reason. The main thing is I’m tired of working at the company. I want to start my own business. I’m only twenty-two; I can’t rely on you two forever. I want to go to City H and give it a shot.”
City D, where the Qiao family lived, was also a provincial capital, but in terms of economy and development, it was only second-tier. He wanted to go to the super-first-tier City H. One reason was that he could adapt to the pace there; another was that it would put some distance between him and his parents.
He had only been married to Wang Cheng for a few days. Although he had Qiao Yi’s memories, his own habits, preferences, and work style were different from the original. It was fine to hide it for a short time, but nearly impossible to keep it up forever.
Too many changes would easily be noticed by those closest to him. If he went to a big city and waited a few years, his parents wouldn’t be able to tell.
“It’s good that you’re young and ambitious. When you get tired, come back. Your mother and I have your back. Of course, don’t do anything illegal.”
After relenting, Mrs. Qiao asked her son many more questions, making sure Qiao Yi wasn’t being tricked by some friend into a pyramid scheme, before she felt at ease.
He hung up the phone just as Wang Cheng came in supporting Old Mr. Wang. He happened to catch the motion: “Who were you talking to?”
Wang Cheng’s tone was gentle, his posture submissive. Old Mr. Wang felt stifled by it—he really didn’t want to look at his daughter-in-law, so he turned his face away to avoid seeing Qiao Yi, to spare himself more irritation.
Qiao Yi didn’t bother arguing with Wang Cheng’s father anymore: “I called my mom.”
His tone was very cold. After saying that, he went into the study.
Wang Cheng couldn’t quite figure out what Qiao Yi was thinking now, and he was also afraid Qiao Yi had complained to his parents. After comforting his own parents, he gritted his teeth, washed up, changed into a semi-transparent robe, and went to the study.
He came in carrying a glass of hot milk. At the study door, he deliberately pulled open the already low neckline, then pressed himself against Qiao Yi: “Don’t be mad. My dad made you angry; the son pays for the father’s debts. How about I let you do whatever you want with me tonight?”
Qiao Yi turned around and saw Wang Cheng’s low neckline exposing his fair chest, set off by the black lace-trimmed robe—a stark contrast.
Qiao Yi swallowed instinctively, then shoved Wang Cheng away.
Having finally mustered up the psychological preparation, even planning to take the next day off, Wang Cheng’s face darkened at being pushed away: “Qiao Yi, what do you mean by this? Don’t tell me it’s really like my dad said—you’ve got someone on the outside?”
He was a man too, originally a 0.5, and he did want to top. But Qiao Yi was delicate and spoiled, complaining about pain and refusing to bottom. To marry Qiao Yi, he’d put up with it.
But now the other party was actually rejecting him. And ever since he came back, Qiao Yi had been acting strange, treating him coldly.
Even if he was angry, he shouldn’t still be like this, pushing him away.
Qiao Yi was taken aback by his outburst, but quickly regained his composure. He stood up, a hint of disgust on his face, and mimicked the tone he remembered Qiao Yi using: “You say your mom was wrong, but deep down you think the same as him, don’t you, Wang Cheng? Let me tell you, I didn’t marry you to find a master to look down on me. If your dad wants you to have kids so badly, why don’t you go get the surgery yourself? It’s free anyway.”
The government surgery was free, but not many men opted for it, because after the procedure, it caused considerable harm to the body and was irreversible.
Once the surgery was done, you could only bear children for others; you couldn’t make another man or woman pregnant yourself.
Unless the love was truly deep and you wanted to have a child for your partner, basically no one would do it.
That’s why Old Mr. Wang pressured Qiao Yi to get it done and give birth—he thought his son was the top, so naturally he’d force his son’s wife to bear the child, unwilling to let his own son suffer that hardship.
Wang Cheng was already reluctant to be the bottom. He’d thought that if he got ahead and Qiao Yi refused, he’d just divorce and find someone else. Of course, he wouldn’t have that surgery.
Hitting a sore spot, his aggressiveness diminished a little. Remembering that Qiao Yi had swallowed just now, there must still be some attraction—he was just angry. Wang Cheng lowered his posture again and spoke softly: “I was just furious. I know my background isn’t as good as yours; I’ve always felt inferior inside. I’m afraid someone will take you away. I’m just jealous.”
His attitude was humble. In the past, Qiao Yi might have been coaxed into forgiving him after a few such words. But Lu Yi wasn’t Qiao Yi, and thinking of Qiao Yi’s eventual fate made him shiver.
Of course, none of that had happened yet; he shouldn’t blame the current Wang Cheng. But continuing to live with Wang Cheng was impossible.
He adopted his usual negotiating stance: “Wang Cheng, earlier you told me to calm down. Now I’m calm, and I still say the same thing: divorce.”
Wang Cheng couldn’t take it: “Divorce, divorce, why do you want a divorce? Give me a reason.”
“You should know that domestic violence is either zero or infinite. From the day I was born, no one has ever dared to lay a finger on me—not even the parents who raised me.”
Wang Cheng knew that Qiao Yi was proud and idealistic, a child spoiled by his parents who couldn’t stand any grievance.
He said patiently, “You know, in the countryside, when kids misbehave, they get spanked. My dad didn’t mean it. Compared to other families, he’s already a lot better. Besides, didn’t you fight back? Times are changing. Teachers used to physically punish students too—look at them now, who dares? I’ll talk to my dad, send him away in a couple of days. Let’s just live well together, no divorce, okay?”
Qiao Yi sneered, “If you enjoy being hit by your dad, that’s your business. Did I eat your rice or spend your family’s money? What right does he have to hit me? Breaking his arm was already showing mercy.”
His retaliation was a conditioned reflex, an act of self-defense, not an eye for an eye. Of course, he didn’t need to explain that to Wang Cheng; let him misunderstand.
With Qiao Yi being so ruthless, Wang Cheng lost his temper too: “Domestic violence is indeed intolerable. But it was my dad who hit you; I never laid a hand on you. I’ve said all the nice words, and you still won’t have it. So what exactly do you want?”
“Just what I said: divorce. We’ve only been married a few days anyway.”
To be husband and husband meant fulfilling marital duties. The marriage between Wang Cheng and Qiao Yi wasn’t some contract marriage. Even though Wang Cheng wasn’t bad-looking, he had no desire to sleep with him.
“I don’t agree.” How could Wang Cheng agree? He’d worked so hard to get married; he couldn’t just divorce.
Qiao Yi stood up, and with a “thump,” Wang Cheng knelt before him: “Alright, I’m begging you, okay? Don’t talk about divorce anymore.”
Qiao Yi loathed people using self-harm to blackmail him. And now, just to avoid divorce, Wang Cheng was kneeling—who knew what he might do?
In the original story, it was said that Qiao Yi was distracted and fell to his death, with Wang Cheng becoming the poor, grieving husband. But there were no cameras in the house—who knew if Wang Cheng had pushed him?
Provoking such a stubborn person was clearly not a good choice.
“Get up first.”
“If you don’t forgive me, I won’t get up.”
Qiao Yi looked down at the kneeling Wang Cheng: “If you want to keep kneeling, then don’t expect me to forgive you for the rest of your life.”
Only then did Wang Cheng stand up, looking pitiful, like a large golden retriever.
The last person who gave him that feeling was a cowardly, irresponsible man who betrayed him right before their wedding. It seemed that scumbags always had something in common.
Qiao Yi forced himself not to think about his time as Lu Yi: “Go rest first. I want to be alone tonight.”
Wang Cheng said, “I want to stay with you.”
He was smart enough to know that if he didn’t stay in Qiao Yi’s sight, the other party might really harden his heart. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
Qiao Yi couldn’t help but take another look at Wang Cheng. To be honest, the original host wasn’t perfect. With good looks, a decent family background, and doting parents, the original Qiao Yi had a very bad temper. But Wang Cheng seemed very tolerant—why else would the original host have chosen to marry him?
If he were Wang Cheng, he would have turned around and left long ago. It took real endurance.
One must endure hardship to rise above others. In a way, he admired Wang Cheng’s patience—if only the man weren’t planning to use him as a stepping stone.
“Suit yourself.”
Qiao Yi’s tone softened as he said this, and Wang Cheng breathed a sigh of relief, completely unaware that the man in front of him was thinking: Looks like I’ll have to visit a law firm tomorrow.