Chapter 25: How Did He End Up Marrying Such a Poor Wife

Song Qi Nian watched the scene unfold with practiced detachment. Something about Lu Yuzhu's behavior didn't quite add up – for someone supposedly from wealth, her grasp of dining etiquette was startlingly poor.

It wasn't just about Italian customs. This was about basic table manners, the kind passed down through generations: don't speak with your mouth full, don't chatter through meals. Yet here was Lu Yuzhu, talking animatedly between bites, seemingly oblivious to Daphne's increasingly strained expression.

Song Qi Nian hadn't been born knowing these rules either. Her education in international etiquette had come after marrying Shen Chi Yan. But watching Lu Yuzhu's failed attempts to engage Daphne in conversation throughout the meal, her mounting frustration became painfully obvious.

The lunch ended quickly, with several dishes barely touched. When Lu Yuzhu signaled for the check, Song Qi Nian stared at the untouched food, an internal struggle playing across her features.

Such waste.

Before she could stop herself, she typed a message on her phone and showed it to the waiter, who returned with takeout containers. As she packed the remaining dishes, she caught Lu Yuzhu's smile – not quite hidden, dripping with smug satisfaction.

The ride back to the hotel was thick with tension. Daphne, who had been warm and chatty with Song Qi Nian all afternoon, now sat in stony silence. Lu Yuzhu practically preened with self-satisfaction, like a cat who'd cornered its prey.

Her thoughts were transparent: What good was Shen Chi Yan's success if his wife showed such common behavior? He was bound for failure with someone like her by his side.

Song Qi Nian's earlier confidence wavered. She'd thought nothing of saving the leftover food, but now – facing their cold shoulders – doubt crept in. Neither woman had objected when she'd asked for the containers, so why this sudden frost? Why did doing the right thing feel so wrong?

If her actions cost Shen Chi Yan the Smith contract, she'd never forgive herself. He would be furious – beyond furious.

...

Shen Chi Yan had been unable to focus since Song Qi Nian left with the others. The question kept nagging at him: Could she handle this?

After an endless afternoon of waiting, they finally returned. Lu Yuzhu swept in first, practically glowing with satisfaction, while Daphne's face remained unreadable – a perfect mask. Behind them came Song Qi Nian, clutching several takeout boxes, her head bowed and her face drained of color.

When their eyes met briefly, she looked away so quickly it was almost painful, her expression a mix of guilt and distress.

Shen Chi Yan's brow creased. What had happened in there? Had she made a mistake? Or had Lu Yuzhu and Daphne done something to her?

"Honey~"

"Oh, my precious wife, you're back!"

"My feet are killing me..."

"Here, come sit down and rest."

Zhou Mingsheng rushed to Lu Yuzhu's side, sweeping her off to the sofa. They immediately fell into their usual display of affection, as if they were completely alone in the room.

Smith was no different with his own wife – the moment Daphne appeared, he greeted her with a kiss and led her to the sofa.

Song Qi Nian felt increasingly out of place, her discomfort mounting by the second. It was all falling apart. Shen Chi Yan must be livid. She'd humiliated him by taking home leftover food – what had she been thinking?

She braced herself for Shen Chi Yan's anger, expecting him to berate her or drag her away in disgrace. Instead, he simply took the bags from her hands and pulled her close, asking softly, "What's wrong?"

The familiar scent of him made her eyes burn with unshed tears. She took his hand, tracing "I'm sorry..." into his palm, but before she could finish, Lu Yuzhu's voice cut through the moment.

"Mr. Shen, you're the CEO of Dingsheng Group, a man of immense wealth. How did you end up with such a poor wife who packs leftover food? We couldn't even stop her."

Zhou Mingsheng joined in, looking Song Qi Nian up and down with contempt. "Mrs. Shen, that's beggar behavior. As a wealthy man's wife, how could you disgrace Mr. Shen like this?"

"Exactly! Who even eats packaged leftovers? The food's already ruined!"

Their tag-team mockery left Song Qi Nian paralyzed with shame and fear.

Zhou Mingsheng couldn't hide his satisfaction. He'd been searching for ways to undermine Shen Chi Yan, and here was weakness delivered right to him. Oh, Shen Chi Yan – for all your brilliance, what a foolish mistake you've made.

Smith remained silent, held back by Daphne, who watched Shen Chi Yan and Song Qi Nian intently, waiting to see how this would play out.

Song Qi Nian had never felt such regret. The first time Shen Chi Yan had asked for her help, and she'd managed to make everything worse. The guilt was crushing.

Then Shen Chi Yan did something unexpected – he laughed softly and kissed her forehead. "How did you know I was hungry?"

Song Qi Nian stared at him in confusion as he led her to the sofa. He began arranging the packed food on the table. "My irregular work schedule has left me with a sensitive stomach. Qiqi has made it her mission to make sure I eat properly. She probably thought I'd missed lunch again, so she saved this food. I apologize if this has caused any amusement."

His defense of her left Song Qi Nian speechless with gratitude.

Zhou Mingsheng sneered, "Such a touching display of marital devotion, Mr. Shen. But will you actually eat these leftovers?"

The Shen family, for all their wealth, had few male heirs. From birth, Shen Chi Yan had been pampered with nothing but the finest of everything.

Rumor had it that Shen Chi Yan had an extreme case of mysophobia—how could he possibly eat food that others had touched?

And besides, while the foreign market was important, Shen Chi Yan wasn’t the type to compromise himself for a business deal.

Shen Chi Yan calmly unpacked the meals on the table. There was steak, pasta, an assortment of bread, and noodles. As the boxes were opened, the rich aroma of the food filled the air.

He picked up a piece of steak and took a bite. Song Qi Nian stared at him, stunned, her emotions growing more complicated by the second.

All the while, his other hand held hers firmly. After swallowing, he glanced at her with a smile and said, “It’s delicious.”

When he was young, the old madam often sent him to military camps. Back then, he’d eaten all sorts of unappetizing meals. Compared to steamed buns and watery porridge, this packed food from a Michelin-starred restaurant was a luxury.

Shen Chi Yan turned to Smith and the others, his tone calm but firm. “My wife, Song Qi Nian, doesn’t lack for a meal. But we were raised to value frugality and never to waste food. This isn’t spoiled, so why shouldn’t we eat it?”