The Byoukidere Is Her Sweetie-Chapter 197 - 197 Talking about Marriage and Wedding

Chapter 197: 197: Talking about Marriage and Wedding Chapter 197: 197: Talking about Marriage and Wedding Miao HuaRen promptly grabbed her wrist, “Joining me for a meal, and you feel aggrieved?”

He pulled her to sit down.

She immediately withdrew her hand and frowned.

A nineteen-year-old girl, indeed, tender and soft. Miao HuaRen glanced at his own hand, stroking his fingers, “Mrs. Qiao didn’t mention it to you, so let me tell you.”

He called over a server and handed over the menu that he had ordered, his arm nearly touching the back of the girl beside him. His gaze unintentionally swept over her fair nape, as he said, “The matchmaking was my idea, I thought you were quite good the first time I saw you.”

Wen Baiyang immediately moved her chair farther away.

Miao HuaRen didn’t feel embarrassed, instead, he smiled, his look becoming warmer, his eyes filled with eagerness and determination.

A deaf-mute person only, destined to be chosen by others.

Miao HuaRen picked up a glass of water in front of him and drank elegantly, “If we get along well, I will talk to the Miao Family. My father is quite old-fashioned, but if I insist, he probably won’t mind your condition too much.”

He spoke as if it were a given, and made it very clear.

It was her problem.

Unable to speak or hear, she was disabled.

Therefore, he felt she was reaching above her station, and naturally, she should just be grateful.

Miao HuaRen continued, his tone unchanged, still determined, “I am older than you. If we were together, I could take care of you more.”

Wen Baiyang tightened her grip on the pen she held.

At this point, Miao HuaRen asked, “Is it because you can’t hear that you don’t speak?”

She didn’t want to answer him at all.

“If the cochlear implant is fitted, could you speak then?” Miao HuaRen looked at the young, delicate girl in front of him, quite regretfully, “Though I don’t mind, if it can be cured—”

Wen Baiyang pushed her notebook toward him.

It had a sentence written: “I have a boyfriend.”

Her resistant expression piqued his interest even more, his gaze light and scornful, smile on his lips as he asked, “Is your boyfriend also deaf-mute like you?”

Wen Baiyang was annoyed, her lips pressed tightly, about to write on the paper, when suddenly the door behind her opened, the breeze came in, stirring her hair.

She turned around and saw him.

He walked over, first gave her a glance then looked at Miao HuaRen. Speaking slowly so she could read his lips, he said, “Her boyfriend is healthy, can speak, can hear, more handsome than you, richer than you, younger than you,” he paused, then added, “and also hasn’t lost a wife.”

Miao HuaRen’s face immediately turned ugly. Considering the other’s status, he restrained himself from losing his temper, and lightened his tone trying to ease it, “Why are you here? Afraid I’ll bully your girlfriend?”

Girlfriend.

Yes, girlfriend also counts as a girlfriend.

Qiao Nanchu didn’t lose his temper but smiled and retorted, “I am her boyfriend, what do you think brought me here?”

This time Miao HuaRen couldn’t even force a smile, his face turning shades of pale and green, “Nanchu, don’t talk recklessly. If this gets out, it could harm the Qiao Family’s reputation.”

Qiao Nanchu casually replied, “Go ahead and try to spread it.”

You dare?

That was what he meant.

Miao HuaRen’s grip on the water glass turned pale.

Qiao Nanchu’s gaze moved past him, looking at Wen Baiyang, taking something out of his pocket and waving it toward her, “Baiyang, come here.”

Wen Baiyang stood up and walked over to him.

He naturally took her hand, pulling her to his side, very clearly claiming his territory, “Uncle Miao, best give up on that idea soon. I’m not very patient, and I wouldn’t want you, at your age, to strangle yourself trying.”

Miao HuaRen: “…”

Always bringing up age!

Little bastard! Insulting him!

Having said that, Qiao Nanchu led her out. Once they left Tingyu Building, he released her hand and stopped under a streetlamp by the roadside, their shadows long and overlapping on the ground.

“Did that old man bully you?”

The moment he spoke, Wen Baiyang could see his anger.

He was angry.

She shook her head, signaling “no” with her hands.

Qiao Nanchu was not reassured and, with a cold face, asked again, “Did he touch you?”

She hesitated for a moment and then told him truthfully, “He grabbed my hand.”

Qiao Nanchu’s brow furrowed, his anger intensifying, “Where?”

She raised her wrist.

Over the years, he had pampered her so much that her skin had become pale and tender. Her wrist had been touched, probably with some force, and the watch had bumped against her skin, leaving a slightly red mark that was still visible.

Qiao Nanchu shifted her watch slightly and bent his head down to gently peck on the red mark.

Wen Baiyang was stunned.

He was much taller than her, so he bent down to look at her, the streetlight blurring in his eyes, creating halos. He asked her, “Do you still remember what I told you last time?”

She was a bit slow to react, nodding after a few seconds, her gaze firm and unwavering as she allowed him to look into her eyes.

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He asked again, “Do you know I like you?”

His tone still seemed casual, but one could hear the carefulness in each word, his lips and teeth moving slowly.

He was generally an impatient person, quick in actions and speech, but whenever he talked to her, he would slow down, waiting for her to read his lips. Despite usually being so decisive and fast, his patience with her was exceptionally good.

Wen Baiyang nodded and answered his question, then feeling it wasn’t solemn enough, used sign language to reply again, “I know.”

Qiao Nanchu licked his teeth, couldn’t hold back, and blurted out, “What about you?”

She looked bewildered, pondered for a long time, nodded, then shook her head.

She had regarded him as a benefactor for too long, blurring the lines of her feelings.

But there was one thing she was sure of, “I can do anything for you.” Including sacrificing her life.

It was he who had rescued her from Da Mai Mountain’s cage, brought her to Imperial City, sent her to school to study, raised her from a teenager to an adult.

She belonged to him, whether as a possession or whatever, everything she had, as long as he wanted it, she was willing to give it to him, without hesitation.

“You’re an adult now, you can be taught.”

He suddenly said this, then leaned in, his lips landing on her forehead.

Now that she was an adult, he could teach her about love.

She stood obediently, tilting her head back slightly, her eyelashes quivering gently.

He was smiling, “You didn’t dodge.”

Yes, she hadn’t dodged.

She had never even thought about dodging; it seemed right as if everything was natural and justified.

Qiao Nanchu raised his hand and patted her head, “At least, you don’t dislike it.”

She blinked.

How could she dislike it? She wouldn’t dislike anything he did.

That’s what she wanted to say, but she was too flustered; she didn’t even know where to place her hands.

He naturally took her hand and walked towards where the car was parked, not looking at the road but wanting to talk to her, “Can I speak to Ms. Wen?”

She asked, “Say what?”

“Tell her that I fancy you, and want you to be my Mrs. Xiao Qiao.”

Mrs. Daqiao is Wen Ya.

She would be Mrs. Xiao Qiao, prefixed by his, his Mrs. Xiao Qiao.

Wen Baiyang blushed, nodding without saying anything, her head down, watching the two shadows close together on the ground, her ears also secretly turning red.

There was no need to say anything more.

The true words of this world are rare, and a woman’s blush speaks volumes more than a lengthy dialogue.

Qiao Nanchu didn’t take her home but returned to the villa area in the north of the city, where Qiao Shenxing and Wen Ya lived.

He parked the car at the front, first unfastened her seatbelt, “I’ll park the car, wait for me to go in together.”

She nodded, got out of the car, and stood waiting in the yard.

“Bai Yang?”

She couldn’t hear and didn’t respond.

Just then, Wen Ya came out, saw her standing in the courtyard, and went up to pat her shoulder, “What are you standing around for? Come inside with me.”

Wen Baiyang glanced toward the garage before entering the house.

The house was elegantly decorated, everything was exquisite. Wen Ya was a woman who knew how to live well. Having been an official’s wife for a few years, her demeanor and speech had become very refined. Even at this time, at home, she was dressed appropriately and luxuriously.

She led her to the living room, then went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea and brought it over, “Mr. Miao just called me and said he was very satisfied with you.”

Her voice was very gentle.

Qiao Shenxing liked women who were delicate and petitely pretty, and Wen Ya never spoke loudly.

She said, “I’ve discussed it with your uncle as well, we’ll transfer your residency to the Qiao Family, so if you end up marrying into the Miao Family, your social status won’t be too low.”

Her tone was soft and gentle, like a loving mother.

However, Wen Baiyang, even unable to hear, still found it grating. She took out a pen and paper, writing, “Why don’t you ask if I am satisfied?”

Wen Ya only knew simple sign language, and except for the most basic conversations, Wen Baiyang often had to write to communicate with her.

After reading what she wrote, Wen Ya glanced toward the stairway, no one else was in the room, her voice grew a bit colder, “You have dissatisfactions?”

To this daughter, Wen Ya really couldn’t feel affection; seeing her always reminded her of her own foolish and absurd youth.

She had this daughter when she was just under twenty, the prime age for a girl.

“Can’t I be dissatisfied?” Wen Baiyang wrote again.

Wen Ya put down her teacup, “Bai Yang, you are different.”

“How am I different?”

Wen Baiyang rarely pressed this hard; she even rarely communicated with Wen Ya. The few exchanges they had were mostly because Qiao Shenxing was present.

If it weren’t for Qiao Nanchu bringing her to Imperial City, Wen Ya probably wouldn’t remember she had a daughter.

“You can neither hear nor speak, be thankful that you can marry a normal person,” Wen Ya’s tone was like she was advising, “let alone someone with Mr. Miao’s conditions.”

Be thankful?

She had used the term “be thankful.”

The hand holding the pen suddenly lost all strength, unable to continue writing.

Someone else took over the conversation for her, “He’s nearly fifty, older than you, a widower with a son; he lacks ambition, still relying on his family after all these years.”

It was Qiao Nanchu.

Wen Ya immediately stood up from the sofa, “Nanchu’s here, there’s something in the kitchen—”

Qiao Nanchu interrupted her, not as indifferent as usual, his tone somewhat imposing, “Continue, how about his conditions?”

Wen Ya couldn’t smile anymore, she said awkwardly, “He’s physically healthy, without disabilities, and he won’t loathe Bai Yang. For Bai Yang, that’s the best condition.”

Disabilities, loathe.

No matter how gentle the tone, these words couldn’t deceive anyone.

Luckily, her back was turned, and Wen Baiyang couldn’t read lips, she could only see him.

That was good, just watch him speak,

He asked, “Then Ms. Wen, what do you think of me?”

Clatter.

The pen in Wen Baiyang’s hand dropped to the floor.

Wen Ya was taken aback, thinking she had misheard, “What did you say?”

Qiao Nanchu walked over, stood next to Wen Baiyang, and raised his hand to rest it on her shoulder, “No need to look far, I am just right for her.”

Wen Ya spilled the tea in her cup, in disbelief.

“Nanchu.”

It was Qiao Nanchu’s father, Qiao Shenxing, standing at the stairway entrance. It was unclear how much he had heard. He glanced at Wen Baiyang, “Come with me.” He was calling Qiao Nanchu.

Probably heard it all, which was good, resolve it in one go.

“Wait for me in my room.”

Wen Baiyang nodded.

Qiao Nanchu then went to the study.

His room was on the second floor, and just as Wen Baiyang had taken a step, Wen Ya grabbed her, “What’s going on between you and Nanchu?”

She didn’t answer.

Wen Ya lost her composure, forgetting to maintain her image of a kind and gentle mother, and her usually delicate and soft demeanor disappeared, her tone turning sharp, “Are you with him?” She was somewhat out of control, visibly agitated, repeatedly questioning, “How can you be together? He’s your brother, how will I face others if you are with him? I’m already not well-regarded by the elders in the Qiao Family. If you and Nanchu keep this ambiguous relationship, how will the Qiao Family view me?”

Wen Baiyang pulled her hand away, “Didn’t you also get together with your own brother? And you had me.”

Wen Ya understood this sign language.

She raised her hand, “You—”

Her hand trembled, but ultimately she did not slap.

This was her scar, known by very few. After marrying into the Qiao Family, no one brought it up again.

The biological father of Wen Baiyang was Wen Ya’s cousin, within four degrees of kinship. Back then, Wen Ya was still young and recklessly pursued love, breaking moral boundaries only to be abandoned.

Back then, she was in poor health with a thin uterine wall, unable to have an abortion, so she gave birth to a girl. This was her shame, a past she wished to erase completely.

Wen Ya lowered her hand and clenched it tightly, “He is the fourth young master of the Qiao Family, the grandfather’s favorite grandson. Even if he’s willing to accept you, Mr. Qiao won’t let you through the door, nor will Uncle Qiao.”

Wen Baiyang didn’t respond.

After a long pause, Wen Ya looked at her and said, “Bai Yang, you don’t deserve him.”

Wen Baiyang’s eyes reddened, her hands moving quickly and frantically in sign language, “Others may say I don’t deserve him, others may despise me for my disability, but you can’t, you have no right.”

Her sign language was too fast, and Wen Ya only understood the last sentence.

The study.

Qiao Shenxing was sitting, having been in a video conference, still in his formal clothes; he pulled off his tie and tossed it on the table, asking, “When did this happen?”

Qiao Shenxing was not yet fifty, mature and handsome.

Qiao Nanchu resembled him, with a naturally charming appearance, anyone who saw him would find him to be a romantic figure.

Qiao Shenxing and Nanchu’s mother were in a political marriage, lacking affection. Qiao Shenxing seemed passionate but was actually indifferent. The father and son were not very close to begin with, and after Qiao Shenxing married Wen Ya, their relationship became even more strained, barely seeing each other throughout the year.

Qiao Nanchu pulled up a chair and sat down, “This is my business.”

Qiao Shenxing removed his glasses, looking less scholarly but more mature and composed, “Who you date is your business, but who you marry concerns the Qiao Family.” He asked, “Do you intend to marry her?”

Not just appearance.

Qiao Nanchu’s disposition also somewhat resembled his father’s, equally capricious and autocratic.

He answered, “Yes.”

“That makes it a matter for the Qiao Family, and I must intervene.” Qiao Shenxing shifted his position, removing the cufflinks from his shirt and tossing them aside, saying, “I don’t agree.”

Qiao Nanchu appeared nonchalant, his tone light, “Whether you agree doesn’t concern me, as long as she agrees.”

Unruly.

This son of his had always been unruly.

Qiao Shenxing, uninterested in a lengthy debate, succinctly stated, “Without your grandfather’s and my approval, she cannot enter the Qiao Family.”

Qiao Nanchu calmly replied, “If you and grandfather don’t mind, I can marry into her family.”

“…”

Qiao Shenxing threw a book at him, “You good-for-nothing!” Marry into her family? He had only this one son!

Qiao Nanchu caught the book steadily and placed it back on the table, unmoved, he retorted, “I learned it from you.”

Accusing his father of being irresponsible.

When Qiao Shenxing married Wen Ya, Mr. Qiao had disagreed. Qiao Shenxing didn’t even try to negotiate and went ahead with the marriage—because of that, Mr. Qiao still disdained him.

It wasn’t that Qiao Shenxing particularly liked Wen Ya, it was more about defying others, marrying whoever he wanted.

Mr. Qiao’s exact words were: “Shenxing that damn boy gets everything right except for his taste in women, whether someone from our house or outside, he treats them all like playthings, always chooses those who are obedient and easy to control, his taste is truly perverse.”

Indeed, Qiao Shenxing’s private life in Qiao City could be described in four words—utterly messed up.

“Are you taking revenge on me because I married Wen Ya?”

Qiao Nanchu laughed lightly, “Qiao City, you think too highly of yourself.”