WRA CH5

Chapter 5: My Mentally Challenged Wife

Xiang Zhen kept his hands obediently folded on his lap, his head tilted slightly to the left, his bright eyes gleaming as he gazed at Zhou Sicheng.

As long as he had no serious business to attend to, his gaze naturally chased after the sun.

Whenever Zhou Sicheng glanced at the right side mirror, Xiang Zhen would quickly avert his eyes as if caught red-handed.

He couldn’t look too conspicuously; that would seem abnormal. The Guide to Adulthood stated that Yao had to restrain their gaze—especially those who cultivated from carnivorous animals, who must never direct predatory, covetous stares toward humans. Humans were exceptionally alert; even in ancient times, they had vividly described scenes of Yao draining scholars of their vital essence.

Yet every time Zhou Sicheng checked the mirror, he caught Xiang Zhen looking at him. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Zhou Sicheng kept his eyes on the road ahead, his furrowed brow gently easing.

Traffic backed up at the red light ahead, creating a sea of glowing red taillights. A taxi kept cutting in and out of lanes, aggressively trying to force its way to the front of the line.

Xiang Zhen glanced at Zhou Sicheng’s unruffled expression. Aiya, his husband was a man of upright character whose driving style was steady and cautious—no wonder he couldn’t compete with those slippery, aggressive drivers.

Xiang Zhen felt he was a bit sharper on his feet, so he pitched the plan he had been turning over in his head: “Hubby, I have the day after tomorrow off. Let me accompany you for a day of driving.”

He could help Zhou Sicheng navigate, snag orders, yell at drivers who cut them off, and beg passengers for five-star reviews. That way, Zhou Sicheng could concentrate entirely on driving.

Zhou Sicheng maintained a composed expression: “When you have a day off, just rest at home.”

Not wanting to hurt his husband’s pride by detailing how useful he could be, Xiang Zhen instead pleaded, “But it’s so rare for me to get a day off. I want to look at you the whole time.”

Zhou Sicheng hadn’t even registered as a ride-hailing driver. He replied, “Then I’ll take the day off too.”

The day after tomorrow was Monday. There were two meetings scheduled; he would just send the vice president in his place.

Determined to bolster his husband’s career, Xiang Zhen insisted, “Then I’ll take the day after that off to accompany you on your shifts.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Why?”

He could play along with Xiang Zhen’s mundane, ordinary life of simple domesticity, but he couldn’t get so absorbed in the role that he actually drove a ride-hailing car. They had only known each other for two days; how could he indulge him without any bottom line? He hadn’t lost his mind just yet.

Xiang Zhen’s eyes darted back and forth. “Because you’re too handsome, hubby! If I sit here, no passenger will dare harass you.”

Zhou Sicheng: “No one dares harass me.”

Xiang Zhen pleaded softly, drawing out his tone: “Hubby——”

Zhou Sicheng: “…”

Reasoning calmly, Zhou Sicheng said, “No ride-hailing driver brings family along. If a party of four hails a ride, where would the fourth person sit?”

That couldn’t stump Xiang Zhen: “I can run behind the car. I run very fast.”

Zhou Sicheng realized he was dealing with someone who worked in customer service. Interacting with the most unreasonable, difficult humans every day had clearly rubbed off on him. This job was a threat to domestic harmony; he needed to find a way to make Xiang Zhen resign.

“Passengers will mind another person in the car. They’ll file complaints against me and ruin my career.”

Heaven only knew that Zhou Sicheng had never once used the word “career” to describe the vast Zhoufu Group he commanded.

Xiang Zhen deeply related to the word “complaint.” After quieting down for a moment, he refused to give up: “I saw a video earlier about a single father who drove with his child in the car because there was no one at home to look after him. He stuck a note on the back of the seat and hung a bag of snacks to soothe the passengers, and everyone was very understanding.”

Xiang Zhen: “I can grab some melon seeds from the company and leave them in the back seat!”

The traffic light turned green, and Zhou Sicheng accelerated smoothly. “Except you’re an adult.”

Xiang Zhen: “You can just say I’m your mentally challenged wife, and that you’re worried about leaving me at home alone.”

Zhou Sicheng: “Do you take the passengers for fools?”

Xiang Zhen grew a little sullen.

Crossing his arms, he looked away from Zhou Sicheng, his cheeks puffing out slightly. It was truly strange; he never got angry with humans, but he could detect the pushback in Zhou Sicheng’s tone—which felt even more grating than receiving baseless insults from unreasonable customers.

Yet Zhou Sicheng hadn’t actually said anything harsh.

Steering the car into the underground garage, Zhou Sicheng saw that Xiang Zhen was still sitting there in a huff. He opened the trunk, took out two small pastry boxes, and asked, “Want some cake?”

He recalled Xiang Zhen’s profile mentioning a fondness for sweets.

The fragrant scent of fresh cream drifted to his nose. Xiang Zhen whipped his head around. As Zhou Sicheng hooked a finger around the cake box and pulled it back slightly, Xiang Zhen scrambled out of the car right behind him.

One whiff was enough for Xiang Zhen to tell that this was an exceptionally delicious cake. “Hubby, did you buy this for me?”

Zhou Sicheng: “A friend opened a bakery, and these were the leftovers that didn’t sell out.”

Xiang Zhen hadn’t eaten lunch. Unable to wait, he tore the box open right in the elevator, scooping up a generous bite of chestnut cake: “Your friend is amazing!”

After saying that, he noticed Zhou Sicheng’s face looked a bit grim, so he quickly tried to smooth things over: “I mean your friend’s baking skills are amazing, not that it’s amazing his cakes didn’t sell out.”

Zhou Sicheng’s expression didn’t improve much: “What does this have to do with him?”

Consumed by the cake, Xiang Zhen hurried inside their rental upon arriving home, turning on the TV to watch an episode of cartoons to finish his daily quota.

Because of his tight budget, Xiang Zhen had never eaten expensive desserts before. He polished off both slices in one go, turning to Zhou Sicheng—who had just stepped out of the shower—with a look of lingering longing: “Hubby, where is your friend’s bakery?”

He had heard that bakeries threw away unsold cakes at the end of every day, and Xiang Zhen was contemplating staking out their dumpsters.

Zhou Sicheng: “It went bankrupt.”

Xiang Zhen said regretfully, “If only I had met your friend sooner.”

Zhou Sicheng thought to himself: Sooner? How much sooner? Sooner than meeting me?

Seeing the foul weather earlier, he had clocked out early to pick Xiang Zhen up on the way, leaving some unfinished tasks that he still needed to handle on his phone.

Zhou Sicheng had no choice but to get into bed—the rental apartment was exceedingly cramped, and only the double bed was relatively spacious. Resting his back against the headboard and propped up by a 19.9-yuan pillow, he began processing deals worth 1.9 billion yuan.

Having finished his episode of cartoons, Xiang Zhen switched off the TV and went to water his sunflowers. Cupping two small cups of yet-to-sprout sunflowers, he asked, “Hubby, guess which one will sprout first?”

Without looking up, Zhou Sicheng answered, “The left one.”

Xiang Zhen: “You guessed right! You’re so smart!”

Zhou Sicheng had already grown used to living alongside these mounds of soil, seeds, and seedlings. In fact, he had adapted to the invasion of sunflowers in his life much earlier.

The R&D team for Xiao Kui Bao had brought in a Feng Shui master from who-knew-where, who claimed that the entrance of the Zhoufu Group headquarters had the best Feng Shui for gathering water and accumulating wealth. If they wanted the Xiao Kui Bao project to succeed, they had to replace the lawn in front of the building with sunflowers.

May happened to be the blooming season for sunflowers. Looking down from his office high above every day, Zhou Sicheng could see hundreds of sunflowers in passionate, golden bloom.

That little brush with superstition had even trended on social media, inadvertently driving a wave of viral traffic to Xiao Kui Bao.

After tending to his sunflowers, Xiang Zhen climbed into bed as well.

This was the downside of having such a small rental apartment: once off work, there was nowhere to lounge except the bed.

Xiang Zhen crawled up beside Zhou Sicheng: “Hubby, what are you looking at?”

The screen was filled with dense, tiny text; he couldn’t decipher what it meant.

Casually pulling him into his arms, Zhou Sicheng rested his chin against the top of Xiang Zhen’s head. When someone was capable of saying, “You can just say I’m your mentally challenged wife,” it usually meant they weren’t far from being mentally challenged to begin with. He brushed him off casually: “Studying. I was laid off by a tech company, so driving a ride-hailing car is just a temporary transition.”

Remembering that his husband held a prestigious master’s degree and was bound to secure a great corporate job in an office tower eventually, Xiang Zhen slowed his breathing, leaning against his chest while quietly scrolling through short videos.

Five minutes later, Zhou Sicheng’s attention drifted to Xiang Zhen’s hair. To achieve such a gorgeous shade of gold, hair typically required bleaching, which left strands with an unhealthy roughness and an unpleasant chemical stench.

Yet Xiang Zhen had none of that. His hair was as lustrous as the finest silk, carrying no harsh odor, only a warm, delicate fragrance.

Lowering his head, Zhou Sicheng buried his face in Xiang Zhen’s hair and took a deep breath.

Realizing what he had just done, Zhou Sicheng felt a fleeting flash of unnatural embarrassment. “When did you dye your hair?”

Xiang Zhen: “I didn’t dye it.”

Zhou Sicheng had actually suspected as much, given that the roots of Xiang Zhen’s hair were golden as well.

Xiang Zhen: “Actually, I’m mixed-race. My ancestors came from North America.”

He wasn’t lying. Sunflowers had been introduced to China four hundred years ago, taking root, blooming, bearing seeds, and continuing the cycle until his generation finally cultivated into Yao. He was a local Yao now.

Zhou Sicheng studied his distinctly classical, Eastern facial features. So you only inherited the hair from your mixed ancestry?

Unable to focus on his work files any longer, he locked his phone and stared down at Xiang Zhen.

Xiang Zhen had just scrolled to a parenting video where a content creator claimed that a child’s milestone for cognitive awakening was announcing they had already watched a particular cartoon episode before.

Xiang Zhen chuckled softly and swiped past it.

Yet Zhou Sicheng was reminded of how Xiang Zhen was constantly watching the first episode of that cartoon. His hand, which had been resting casually around Xiang Zhen’s slender waist, slowly retreated to a proper, respectable perch on his shoulder.

Not cognitively awakened yet?

The next video featured a sharp-eyed coach teaching her livestream audience how to manage family finances, how to check a man’s bank statements, and how to uncover hidden spending by men.

It was an educational stream with real-time audience participation, and the host was passionately rallying the ladies in the chat to grab their husbands’ phones right that second to inspect them.

Completely engrossed, Xiang Zhen followed the livestream’s rhythm, turning to Zhou Sicheng: “Hubby, could you show me your ride-hailing earnings statement?”

Zhou Sicheng: “…” Well, look who’s cognitively awakened now.

From the phone, the livestream coach declared with absolute certainty: “If a man refuses to hand over his phone, he’s definitely hiding something!”

Zhou Sicheng: “Wait a moment. I need to use the restroom.”