Cheating CEO

Chapter 3: A Beloved Wife's Cold Treatment

Under the envious and jealous gaze of countless women, Gong Shichen became the wife of Ling Yanhong—just as Luo Wenke became Zhuang Wentian’s.

One was a dark horse who had burst onto the scene, possessing a pure, delicate beauty and a uniquely transcendent air. This was why Gong Shichen’s name graced the headlines the next day. Men praised Ling Yanhong for his impeccable taste, while other beautiful women were convinced they too could be just as ethereal, if only they had Gong Shichen’s luck.

Yet no one knew the reality that awaited this supposedly fortunate woman on her wedding night.

When the flowers and applause faded, she and Ling Yanhong became like strangers. As she watched him leave their opulent bedroom, adorned with symbols of marital bliss, she felt a finality in his retreating form—as if he would not return. And indeed, that night, she kept a lonely vigil.

She drifted off to sleep amidst a swirl of anticipation, tension, disappointment, and resignation, still clad in her wedding gown.

Ling Yanhong had left without a word, his expression a thunderous mask.

The next morning, as newspapers buzzed with reports of the two sensational high-society weddings, Gong Shichen, the abandoned bride, was still lost in slumber.

In her dreams, Ling Yanhong’s smile was just as malevolent, and in her dreams, he left her too.

Upon waking, Gong Shichen gave her cheek a resigned pat, a small jolt to remind herself this was no dream.

Yes, she knew. This was the same room from last night. This was Ling Yanhong's room. And Ling Yanhong had not returned.

If, at the altar, she had not fully grasped the meaning behind his “YesIdo,” she understood it now. It hadn't meant “I am willing.” It had meant “Task acknowledged.”

He had never wanted to marry her; it was merely a perfunctory duty to be completed.

Had she walked into a tragedy?

Lost in these thoughts, she began to struggle out of her wedding gown. No wonder she'd slept so poorly; the tight bodice had been constricting her chest. She was mid-struggle, her mind adrift in the strangeness of her marriage, wondering what role she was meant to play, when the door opened. And just like that, half-undressed, Gong Shichen stared in flustered panic at the man in the doorway. Ling Yanhong, his eyes bloodshot, saw her.

Her exquisite bust was perfectly framed by the half-removed dress, her alabaster skin gleaming with a soft, smooth luster. Her posture, an instinctive attempt to cover herself, seemed more an act of seduction.

His gaze landed on her, and a flicker of something clouded and primal appeared in his weary eyes.

He stood at the door, she by the mirror. A spark seemed to ignite in the space between them. But the sight of her wide, doe-like eyes brought a wave of irritation, and the haze in his gaze instantly sharpened into a frigid clarity.

“Continue,” he commanded, his own attention shifting. He strode to the nightstand beside the large bed, opened a drawer, and retrieved an envelope. Then he turned, ready to leave.

“Ling Yanhong—Yanhong?!” In a panic, Gong Shichen called out his name. What did he think he was doing? How could he treat her this way?

“Call me ‘husband.’ Don’t use my name.” His expression was glacial, his words just as cold. Gong Shichen froze, stunned. As she watched his retreating back, an indescribable pain washed over her.

Chapter 3: The Coldly Treated Bride (Part 2)

The sun was a playful child, its fingers stretching out to stroke the cheeks of the sleeping figure on the bed. Finally, her long lashes fluttered. After a long, deep sleep, the sunbeam falling directly on her face made further rest impossible.

She opened her eyes, all drowsiness gone. For the past month, her primary activities had been sleeping and eating. She genuinely wondered how, after such dedicated nourishment, she had yet to gain any weight.

This was the thirty-first day of her marriage to Ling Yanhong, and nothing had changed since the first.

On the vast double bed, she was alone. And him? It seemed he only ever returned after she had fallen asleep. She knew this because once, parched with thirst, she had woken for water and discovered a figure lying beside her. Before that, she had assumed he never came home at all.

And every morning—no, every mid-morning when she opened her eyes—he was long gone.

By now, she understood her position and identity in Ling Yanhong’s life with perfect clarity. The last vestiges of her favorable impression of him had slowly eroded, and her understanding of her own predicament had solidified. She was merely required to wear the title of Mrs. Ling, enjoy the lifestyle of the Ling family, and be a decorative wife in name only.

The worst part was, even a concubine in the imperial palace had it better.

Was this the price for the Gong Corporation’s revival? Gong Shichen laughed at herself, a dry, self-mocking sound. She stretched languidly and began her routine—washing up, applying makeup—in case Ling Yanhong should suddenly require her presence at some important function.

How much longer could this go on?

She was truly the most pitiful woman of the elite class. Compared to her wedding day, the initial sorrow and hurt had faded into a dull numbness; now, she was simply angry.

Divorce?

Would Ling Yanhong ever permit such a thing? Would her father and brother agree? Had they all known she was walking into a sham, a cold and hollow marriage, and sacrificed her anyway?

Gong Shichen, you are a fool. For all your higher education, your studies abroad, you ended up foolishly sacrificing your own happiness. Did you really believe that feelings could be cultivated after marriage?

She had known since her wedding day. Ling Yanhong did not love her. She was nothing but a pitiable pawn.

In the mirror, her elegant, long hair fell in beautiful waves, but the innocent purity of her face still held the frankness of a young girl, not the mature charm of a married woman.

Padding in soft slippers to the dining room, she was greeted politely by the housekeeper, Auntie Li.

“Madam, you’re awake?”

The living area was empty save for the two of them, so Gong Shichen dispensed with pleasantries, replying listlessly, “Yes, Auntie Li. I’m hungry. Is there anything good to eat?”

Auntie Li immediately turned toward the kitchen. In no time, a fried egg, bread, and milk were served. Her efficiency was truly impeccable.

“Oh, by the way, Madam, Mr. Gong called earlier. He said today is his birthday and asked if you and Master Ling would be attending.”

Auntie Li spoke with a hint of concern. It was obvious that after serving here for so long, she knew the relationship between the master and madam was anything but good.

“Oh?”

Would they be attending? The question was phrased as an inquiry, not a request or a notification. Her father had lost all his former confidence and boldness in front of Ling Yanhong. She remembered how lively the house would be on his birthdays when she was a child. She had idolized her father then, believing him to be the most powerful man in the world. Why did he now seem like a hero in his twilight, a tragic figure? And the target of his subservience was his own son-in-law?

No. She refused to let this situation continue.

“Mr. Gong is waiting for a reply,” Auntie Li added, watching with worry as Gong Shichen, seated at the table, viciously bit into her fried egg. It was clear this was not a decision Madam could make on her own.

“We’re going. Of course, we’re going,” Gong Shichen said with determination. Even if Ling Yanhong wouldn’t go, she resolved, she would.

But in the next moment, she realized the egg in her mouth was unbearably salty.

“Ah—ptooey, ptooey—Water—Auntie Li!”

Seeing this, Auntie Li scurried to fetch water. “My apologies, Madam! I thought I hadn’t put any salt in, so I added some again later.” She explained her blunder guiltily as she watched Gong Shichen wave her little hand over her mouth. In her haste, she had salted the egg twice.

“Ugh, it’s so salty it could kill me!”

Forgetting her ladylike decorum, Gong Shichen downed half a glass of milk, followed by half a glass of water, before she finally felt some relief.

To soothe her tortured taste buds, she grabbed a large piece of cake with one hand and a glass of water with the other. With a furrowed brow, as if marching to her own execution, she attacked the cake with gusto.

It was this scene that greeted Ling Yanhong when he returned. The woman who was so absorbed in her eating saw him, froze for a second, and then began to cough violently. She was choking.

Ling Yanhong frowned. Was he that frightening?