Chapter Twenty-Three: I Just Don't Like Others Touching My Wife

Throughout the journey, Wen Jing remained expressionless, and Song Nian'an was terrified by the excessively quiet atmosphere.

Looking at Wen Jing's appearance, it's hard to tell whether he wants to kill Wen Siyan or him.

When the elevator arrived, Wen Jing slammed the office door shut with such force that the entire floor heard a loud bang.

Song Nian'an was placed on the table.

At that moment, the office light shone on Song Nian'an's face, and Wen Jing saw the abnormal red circles on his neck, not only his neck, but also his collarbone and wrist.

“I can explain…it’s not what you saw,” Song Nian’an said, trying to appear calm. “I really didn’t, I didn’t do anything.”

Song Nian'an silently prayed in her heart, "Don't be angry, don't be angry, please don't be angry. Getting angry will only make you sick, and no one can take your place. It would be such a waste to lose your temper over a bad person and kill such a handsome husband."

Wen Jing remained expressionless. He gently stroked the mark on his neck, pressed his forehead against Wen Jing's, and lightly brushed against the tip of Wen Jing's nose.

In those deep black eyes, Song Nian'an only saw himself.

"Does it hurt?"

Wen Jing lowered his hands, clenched his fists, hesitated for a moment, and said, "I'm sorry to have left you to deal with this all by yourself."

So many things I wanted to explain were stuck in my throat, and after thinking for a long time, I only managed to say one sentence: "I only like your... face."

"What?" Wen Jing narrowed his eyes and moved closer. "Only the face?"

"No... there's more..." Song Nian'an was stared at blankly, and stammered for a long time without saying anything.

The atmosphere was tense. Wen Jing's aura was really low. His dark eyebrows and eyes were filled with hostility and anger, as if he was about to swallow Song Nian'an whole at any moment.

He braced himself with his hands, slid down the edge of the table, bent over and pressed down on Song Nian'an's body, his lips touching his neck.

Almost reflexively, Song Nian'an shuddered. The shock he had just experienced made him instinctively push Wen Jing away, but he still had no strength left.

Wen Jing kissed his collarbone, hugged him tightly, and said, "It's okay, I will protect you."

There's still half a sentence I haven't said, but I will make Wen Siyan pay the price.

A sigh of self-reproach escaped from the side of his neck to his chin and then to his lips.

Song Nian'an's nose stung, but it would be too embarrassing to cry. He tried his best to restrain himself, frowning, but Wen Jing's kiss was so gentle, so tenderly enveloping him completely.

After a few minutes of tender entanglement, the two parted ways.

Song Nian'an's reddened eyes seemed to be filled with tears. He was about to speak when Wen Jing interrupted him.

“I’ve always known Wen Siyan’s ambition. His humility and feigned weakness are just a facade to cultivate an image of someone who doesn’t compete or fight.” Wen Jing lifted him down, and the two snuggled together on the sofa. “Are you feeling better now? Does it still hurt?”

Song Nian'an's face flushed. "Does it hurt? If I say it hurts, will you kiss me again? It felt so good."

Wen Jing listened, both amused and exasperated. He stroked Song Nian'an's hair and continued, "Back in the Wen family, whenever I saw him smile, I felt like he wasn't really smiling. It's strange, but it was like we were destined enemies, constantly being compared and courted by the older generation of uncles in the Wen family. Even after I became the heir, he made it clear to everyone that he had no interest in the Wen family business and only wanted to be an ordinary professor teaching at a university."

He had seen these things in the book before, but the plot has changed a lot since then.

Logically speaking, Wen Siyan would never have gone mad in front of Wen Jing, and the original book does not describe that Wen Jing had long been wary of Wen Siyan.

Song Nian listened quietly, thinking that the most urgent thing was to calm her husband down first.

His voice was muffled, and his innocent eyes blinked as he looked at Wen Jing and said, "Honey, don't be angry."

The air froze. Wen Jing pinched Song Nian'an's cheek, his voice tinged with amusement, "I'm not angry." Looking at her sparkling eyes, he added with a smile, "I didn't expect you to be so good at being affectionate."

Song Nian'an snuggled closer to him, a warm breath brushing against her ear:

"Besides, I quite like it," Wen Jing said.

Song Nian'an asked curiously, "You weren't angry when Wen Siyan hugged me?"

Wen Jing picked up a bottle of water, took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly as he swallowed the water, along with other emotions. He sat in the chair, his hands dangling on his knees.

"I just don't like other people touching my wife."

Song Nian'an's heart was churning again. [This undisguised desire and possessiveness is just too...alluring!]

Wen Jing beckoned to Song Nian'an, and she obediently sat on his lap.

I couldn't resist using my hand to slowly trace his back from the nape of his neck.

Song Nian'an hugged Wen Jing back, rested her head on his shoulder, and after a while, finally grasped Wen Jing's hand, their fingers intertwined.

“There are some things I don’t know how to explain,” Song Nian’an said, looking into his eyes, “but right now, I am yours.”

If you don't need me anymore in the future, I can leave. But right now, I'm reluctant to leave; I want to see you every day.

The second half of the sentence remained unspoken.

Wen Jing could probably guess Song Nian'an's little thoughts. He had nothing. In the Song family, there was no love, no care, only a hypocritical father and a stepmother who stole his mother's things. Even some of his things would eventually be given to his "brother" Song Zheng.

Song Nian'an could only dream about what she wanted; she had no choice but to grit her teeth and live her life.

A pang of heartache welled up inside me.

Wen Jing couldn't help but wonder, when did she become so intense?

After calming down, Wen Jing started working on documents in his office, while Song Nian'an lay on the sofa and played on her phone and watched videos.

Are we really going to waste these ten days of holiday like this?

Song Nian'an asked himself the same question.

"Have you rested well?" Wen Jing's voice came.

[Am I going to have to run errands again?]

I don't want my salary, I just want to lie down and relax.

Song Nian'an was full of thoughts of refusing, but she still said dishonestly, "I've had enough rest."

Wen Jing had long anticipated that the little guy would say one thing and mean another, and he had figured out this trick of his. He took a stack of books from the bookshelf behind him.

Song Nian'an's mouth is enormous; the number and thickness of it are just too exaggerated!

"Here are these books for you. You can study them here for the next few days." Wen Jing was very proud. These were 30 classic books he had selected from the "must-read books for art majors" list he found on the website.

"A History of Modern Design," "An Introduction to Art and Design," "A General History of Art"...

After reading this book, you should be good enough to prepare for the postgraduate entrance exam.

Has this world gone mad? Even transmigrating into a book requires fierce competition? Can't we just be honest and live the life of a CEO's wife?

"I feel a bit unwell right now, maybe I should go home first..."

Wen Jing nodded and said, "That's fine too. We have an identical set in the study at home."

...

He did it on purpose, absolutely on purpose.

"That's really something, thank you so much for your kind intentions, husband." She said each word through gritted teeth.