What's Wrong With Rear-Ending Your Arranged Marriage Partner? He Totally Loves It - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: A Bit Sexy

One afternoon—Song Cun received a call from his agent, Chen Jie, and the two chatted a bit about work.

Chen Jie, a very respectful beta, had been careful not to pry into Song Cun’s private life during his extended break, only reaching out for work-related matters.

“There’ve been some script offers lately. Want to take a look and see if anything interests you? If you go too long without a project, the audience might forget you,” Chen Jie said.

“Sure, send them over,” Song Cun replied, hanging up before opening the scripts Chen Jie had just forwarded.

A small slice of honeydew melon was brought to his lips. Without even looking up, Song Cun opened his mouth and took a bite.

No need to glance—he already knew it was Qi Yan bringing him fruit again.

Lately, Song Cun hadn’t been working outside. With no desire to go out even when bored, he spent most of his time watching movies in the home theater and studying acting techniques.

Qi Yan didn’t disturb him much, only showing up now and then to bring cut-up fruit, reminding him to rest his eyes. Occasionally, he would quietly sit beside him and watch the movies too.

Qi Yan’s susceptibility periods didn’t follow a regular schedule, so to prevent a sudden pheromone surge, he rarely went out—just one or two trips to the company each week.

Two homebodies like them ended up spending almost all their time indoors.

Even though they hadn’t been living together long, the time they spent together wasn’t any less than most couples who worked 9-to-5 jobs.

If you took romance out of the equation, Song Cun thought Qi Yan actually made a pretty good roommate.

—Good temper, could cook, worked quietly in his study when busy, and when not, would keep him company during movies.

Song Cun found himself gradually getting used to this respectful, peaceful cohabitation.

But these moments of serene domestic bliss always shattered instantly—whenever he ran into 2099.

To avoid being dismantled by Song Cun, the household robot 2099 deliberately shifted its schedule, doing all chores quietly at night. If it ever ran into Song Cun getting water, it would immediately retreat to its rest pod and play dead.

One morning, Song Cun happened to wake up early and stepped out of his room—just in time to see Qi Yan returning from a run.

Qi Yan was walking upstairs, casually stripping off his T-shirt, not yet realizing Song Cun was standing at the doorway of the second-floor bedroom.

He had just finished exercising. A fine sheen of sweat covered his perfectly defined muscles, with firm abs and smooth Adonis lines drawing Song Cun’s gaze.

Qi Yan’s naturally attractive features and physique, under the morning sun, were striking—wild, primal, and imposing. The contrast with his usual calm, refined demeanor made the sight all the more powerful.

Unconsciously, Song Cun swallowed, mentally noting: Kinda sexy.

Qi Yan only noticed him after taking off his shirt. Somewhat surprised, he then smiled and greeted him.

“Morning, Cun-Cun.”

Song Cun awkwardly averted his gaze.

“Y-You… why are you taking off your clothes?”

“Sorry,” Qi Yan replied, holding his shirt.

“2099 brought me some juice earlier. It spilled on me.”

“What are you, a philanthropist?” Song Cun raised an eyebrow, glancing out of the corner of his eye at 2099 peeking from the stairwell.
“Even a household robot can’t handle handing over a glass of juice properly—how’ve you tolerated it this long?”

Raising his voice deliberately, he continued with biting sarcasm:

“If it can’t even do basic chores right, you should send it back to the factory for reprocessing.”

Hearing the threat of reprocessing, 2099’s wheels spun in panic, causing it to slip and tumble a bit before scrambling back into its rest pod to play dead.

Watching 2099’s flustered retreat, Song Cun gave a very immature and satisfied smile.

But when he turned around, he saw Qi Yan looking at him with that same warm, indulgent smile.

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.

In an instant, Song Cun felt like an idiot and quickly wiped the grin off his face.

“Go take your shower already.”

With that, he thumped down the stairs—one slipper flying off yet again.

But this time Qi Yan didn’t need to worry about him losing it—because now the entire floor was covered in thick, plush cashmere carpeting.

After his shower, Qi Yan came downstairs to make breakfast.

Normally, Song Cun would sit in the living room playing on his phone while Qi Yan worked in the kitchen.

But today, Song Cun was feeling mischievous and kept popping in to stir up trouble.

Just as Qi Yan finished slicing tomatoes, Song Cun darted in while he was frying eggs and stole a tomato slice.

When Qi Yan turned around after finishing the eggs, the tomatoes were gone. He spotted Song Cun nibbling them, deliberately making eye contact while smugly chewing away.

“You little rascal,” Qi Yan said, pretending to swat at his hand—but Song Cun dodged nimbly.

Qi Yan washed another tomato and sliced it again.

Next thing he knew, the cooked bacon disappeared.

Looking around, he saw Song Cun with chipmunk cheeks, lips gleaming with oil, shooting him a cheeky look as he reached up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

Qi Yan grabbed his wrist. Song Cun thought he was about to smack his hand and tried to pull away—but Qi Yan simply pulled a tissue from the side and began wiping his mouth.

The touch was gentle—like handling a delicate treasure, or carefully tracing the outline of a masterpiece.

While dabbing at his lips, Qi Yan’s tone was full of doting amusement.

“Why are you acting like such a kid? You’ll still have room for breakfast after all this?”

At that moment, time seemed to slow down.

With Qi Yan holding his face so gently, Song Cun felt like he was being spoiled like a child.

And he suddenly realized—he was indeed becoming more and more like a kid around Qi Yan, able to act out without reservation.

A phrase flashed through his mind:

“The favored have nothing to fear.”

Somewhere deep inside, he knew Qi Yan was kind to him—and because of that, he let himself behave recklessly in front of him.

That feeling of being favored… was something he’d never experienced growing up.

The year he was born, his father’s business hit a serious crisis, and he was treated like a jinx.

That same year, his mother discovered his father’s affair. She was too busy screaming and crying at his dad to care for him properly—and even blamed her pregnancy for pushing his father to cheat.

His older brother, by contrast, had been born during the happiest years of their parents’ marriage, receiving all the love and attention. He was the designated heir of the family.

Even though his brother was a delinquent from a young age and later became a useless, drunken mess who nearly bankrupted the family, their father never blamed him. Instead, he forced Song Cun into a marriage alliance to clean up his brother’s mess.

“Cun-Cun? What’s wrong?”

Qi Yan stopped wiping as he noticed the slight redness around Song Cun’s eyes.

They were standing close—close enough to see even the tiniest change in expression.

Realizing his eyes were wet, Song Cun quickly turned away, finding an angle to discreetly wipe them.

“Nothing. The oil smoke got in my eyes,” he mumbled, sniffing. Still facing away, he added, “Did you forget to turn on the range hood? You’re as dumb as 2099.”

Qi Yan could tell something was wrong but didn’t push. He just went along with him, tone as gentle as ever:

“Yeah, I’m too dumb. I smoked up our little Cun-Cun, didn’t I?”

He stepped forward, gently wrapped his arms around Song Cun’s slender shoulders from behind, and led him out of the kitchen.

“Let me see,” Qi Yan said, bending forward to peer into his face, purposefully exaggerated in his concern, “What do we do? You’ve turned into a little soot-covered kitty.”

He playfully ran a finger across Song Cun’s nose tip.

Knowing Qi Yan was teasing him, Song Cun turned his head away.

“Qi Yan, are you stupid?”

Qi Yan tilted his head, chasing his turned face, and tapped the little mole under Song Cun’s right eyelid. His voice grew serious and sincere:

“Cun-Cun, even if you turned into a little soot-covered kitty, I’d still recognize you in an instant.”