Chapter Fourteen: Married, to a Lovely Young Man

Wen Jing smiled but didn't reply.

Song Nian'an continued, "I have social anxiety and don't want to become the focus of everyone's discussion."

The original owner of this body was mistakenly identified as a mistress, exposed by the media, and subjected to cyberbullying, which ultimately led her to end her life in despair.

Although he wasn't a particularly fragile person, he disliked life under the spotlight.

Becoming Wen Jing's other half will inevitably attract a lot of attention, and he doesn't want to end up like the character in the book.

Song Nian'an nervously pursed her lips and obediently looked at Wen Jing, whose eyes were dark and unfathomable.

Wen Jing wore a frivolous smile, looking nonchalant and like he was teasing a cat. He wrapped his large hand around him and said, "I'm marrying you to stop other women from being offered to me. If you don't want to go public, I'll still have a lot of trouble."

Song Nian'an wanted to ejaculate from his body, but Wen Jing raised his hand, grabbed his wrist, pressed it down hard, looked down at him, and showed his dissatisfaction.

Song Nian'an's heart tightened, and tears streamed down her face. She felt a strange burning sensation in her heart. Even if they got married, it would only be a pretext to help him avoid unwanted attention.

"Whatever you say..."

Anyway, I can't control your decision.

Wen Jing looked down and saw that he had used too much force and had left marks on Song Nian'an's wrist. He immediately let go, and his doe-like eyes were red.

Song Nian'an turned her back and hugged her arms so she couldn't see him.

He gritted his back teeth. Did that hurt him?

There was no real need to reveal Song Nian'an's identity; it was just a possessive urge at play.

Wen Jing heard Song Nian'an's voice again.

He's just taking advantage of his good looks to do whatever he wants and has absolutely no respect for me. I'd better stay away from him.

"What's wrong, Nian'an?" The light was dim, and Wen Jing touched his fair neck, leaning against his back as he asked.

【What else could it be! Can't you tell they're having a tiff?】

To appear less concerned, Song Nian'an said casually, "Nothing, I want to sleep. Goodnight."

After saying that, he closed his eyes and began counting the lambs.

Wen Jing gradually released him and reached for her phone.

In the dimly lit room, the light from his phone shone on his face. After a while, Wen Jing put down his phone, turned over, and hugged Song Nian'an again.

You bastard! You bastard! Even if you're the worst, I still want to see him one last time before I go to sleep, just one last time.

Wen Jing smiled and turned him around, holding his hand tightly, then closed her eyes and breathed evenly.

Song Nian'an lightly scratched Wen Jing's large palm with her fingers, but found that Wen Jing did not react.

They must be asleep.

Song Nian'an opened her big eyes and looked at his stunningly handsome face. Her Adam's apple bobbed as she slowly swallowed, raised her eyebrows, closed her eyes with satisfaction, and snuggled into his arms to sleep.

Perfect, I have material for my dreams tonight.

Wen Jing smiled with a straight face.

The next morning, when Song Nian'an got up, the bedside was empty. She guessed that the health-conscious old man had gone for his morning run again.

He put on a tracksuit and was about to go downstairs for breakfast when he bumped into a solid chest at the corner of the stairs.

Fine beads of sweat seeped into her clothes, and the sticky feeling was unconsciously transmitted to Song Nian'an through the fabric.

A devil's figure, an angel's face.

"Um, sorry, I didn't see you go upstairs."

"It's okay, I'll take a shower and come right away. You go eat first." Wen Jing's voice was a little hoarse.

He walked upstairs, his back completely soaked with sweat, and the leg muscles he revealed when he lifted his foot were firm and alluring.

Song Nian'an didn't come downstairs until the figure disappeared at the top of the stairs.

Today, Auntie made a beef sandwich, and Song Nian'an was scrolling through her WeChat Moments while eating the sandwich.

"This is... Wen Jing?"

"My dear little husband" is a nickname I changed after adding Wen Jing on WeChat yesterday. There's only one post on my Moments.

It's a photo of a marriage certificate, with the words "..." written on it.

"She got married, and he's a lovely young man."

It was posted twelve hours ago.

Song Nian'an was completely captivated by his flirting, and he felt a surge of excitement in his heart.

Just then, Wen Jing came downstairs after taking a shower and saw Song Nian'an with her face flushed.

With a nonchalant smile, Wen Jing lowered his voice and asked, "Still angry?"

"I'm not angry!"

[Don't be angry anymore! What's there to be angry about! My adorable little gentleman never gets angry.]

A pair of dark eyes looked up at Wen Jing, their gaze both clear and tense.

Wen Jing paused for a moment, then his deep voice, tinged with an ambiguous tone, fell into Song Nian'an's ear and asked, "Do you have class today, my lovely little teacher?"

She opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of iced milk, but Song Nian'an stopped her.

"Drinking iced milk first thing in the morning will give you diarrhea," Song Nian'an instinctively snatched the milk away, her eyes filled with worry. "My mom said so..."

Wen Jing raised her hand and patted his head. "You're such a grown man, yet you're still using your mother's words to educate people."

Then, Song Nian'an took out the thermos cup she had prepared for him, which contained soaked goji berries.

"It wasn't hot enough to eat today; it's been cold for a while now."

Wen Jing stood in front of him, lowered her neck and pressed it against his lips, giving him a quick kiss.

"Thank you for your hard work."

The feeling of his large palms gently rubbing her head was still there, and now he was kissing her again. Wen Jing was simply a master of seduction.

Wen Jing's WeChat Moments post has received over 99+ comments, and her phone keeps ringing.

He glanced at it briefly, replied to a few important people, and then said...

"I have a morning meeting, I have to go now."

Hurry up and leave, or my face will turn bright red!

This morning was a general English class, and Cheng Letian was chattering away about school gossip.

"You know, the most beautiful girl in the School of Economics and Management got snatched away by a jerk from the Sports Department. He even swore that none of the girls in our Art Department are good-looking. I think you're prettier than all those beauties."

"And also, I heard that the student council president likes Teacher Wen and even sent her a love letter to confess his feelings, but Teacher Wen rejected him!"

Song Nian'an didn't hear a word she said.

The characters were written stroke by stroke: Wen Jing, Wen Jing, Wen Jing.

When the English teacher saw the two students daydreaming in class, she threw a piece of chalk at them, which hit Song Nian'an on the head.

Song Nian'an jumped up in surprise, and before the teacher could ask a question, he blurted out, "Wen Jing!"

The whole class burst into laughter, and Cheng Letian laughed so hard he was lying on the table, unable to get up. He had really embarrassed himself to no end.

The English teacher shook her head, saying that college students with love-struck minds are truly beyond help.

"Sit down, keep your mind on the lesson, don't let it wander off," the teacher sighed.

Song Nian'an hurriedly sat down, digging her toes two feet into the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her English textbook was filled with Wen Jing's name, and there was a sketch of Wen Jing at the back.

He gently touched the chest of the man in the painting, recalling the sense of security he felt after bumping into him that morning, and buried his head in his textbook.

Outside the classroom window, Wen Siyan stood stiffly, his lesson plan crumpled in his hand.

Originally, this boy would only draw sketches for himself and would write love letters and put them in his homework, then slip them to me.

The person in the painting is no longer himself.

Wen Jing, not all good things can be yours.