Why Is Mr. Handsome Always Angry? - Chapter 7

I did not approve of this marriage.

If possible, I wanted a purely physical relationship with him.

So I protested vehemently. “That’s not true, Officer. He’s just the pretty boy I keep.”

“…”

Mr. Handsome didn’t even look at me. He approached, took a small red booklet from inside his coat, and handed it to the officer.

The officer opened it, considered it, and typed busily at his computer.

“Ah, a married couple having a little spat? Husbands and wives fight at the head of the bed and make up at the foot.”

Screw your bed. No, screw your married couple.

I snatched the red booklet at lightning speed.

The words “Marriage Certificate” burned my eyes.

Inside, I found a photograph of myself. White shirt, ponytail, curved lips.

What a beautiful girl.

I admired her for quite a while.

Huh. Wasn’t the man beside me the very same gorgeous guy standing here looking thoroughly exasperated?

Honestly, with faces like ours, we made quite a pair. Maybe?

“Do you remember now?” Mr. Handsome’s voice sounded beside my ear, soft and gentle—a feeling he rarely showed.

“What?” Gentle. I froze for a moment. He had never shown that quality to me. Never.

He watched me steadily, his eyes like the deep sea. “Xu Ye, you’re my wife.”

Nope.

I leaped away, putting a great deal of distance between us.

Then I looked at the officer. “He’s guilty of inventing a false identity too. Can I request a different cell from him?”

I had never expected this. Really, never.

That gorgeous man I had been lusting after and I were in a long-term physical relationship sanctioned by law.

What a dreamlike development.

It was already dark when we came out.

His car was still parked outside the hospital. The kind officer paid our taxi fare back there.

I hadn’t wanted to get into his car, but he said there was money in it and he was going to dinner.

Penniless as I was, I forced him to take me along.

I had my hands around my own throat at the time. “If you don’t take me, you won’t have a wife anymore.”

He showed no reaction and got into the driver’s seat. But he didn’t kick me out.

Now I sat in the passenger seat of his black SUV, biting my nails and studying him through narrowed eyes.

I knew my staring was setting his heart aflutter. Finally, he couldn’t stand it and turned my face the other way.

“Tell me, why do you carry your marriage certificate around all the time?” I asked thoughtfully.

Seeing my breathtaking face in the mirror, I suddenly understood.

But what I really wanted to ask was: Why do you want to kill me?

Why do you want to kill your wife?

I wanted crayfish. Really wanted them.

I looked at Mr. Handsome and remarked casually, “Have you heard of the twelve ways to cook crayfish?”

“First, stir-fried, with bright red chilies…”

“Second…”

He kept driving, but I knew his mind was already crawling with crayfish cooked in every delicious, fragrant, colorful way.

Some people say nothing, while secretly changing the navigation route to head toward crayfish.

Twenty minutes later, I stared at a deserted patch of wilderness. “They sell crayfish here too?” I asked blankly.

I heard the trunk pop open. He switched off the engine, took out the key, and got out.

Through the window, I saw him approach and open my door.

“Get out,” he said. Two simple words.

“What for…” I glanced at the barren surroundings. “Outdoor… outdoor sex?”

He took a deep breath and bent down to unbuckle my seat belt.

“If you really can’t wait, how about we do it in the car?” I ventured. “It’s too dirty out—”

Before I could finish, he hauled me out and tossed me onto the muddy ground like a little chicken.

My only outfit was dirty.

I got up and discovered my trousers were ripped and my leg had a large gash.

I rolled up my sleeves, ready to unleash a torrent of abuse.

“You might not know this, but I trained in Zaun-level trash talk.”

“Does it hurt?” he suddenly asked softly, catching all my carefully prepared censor-worthy insults in my throat.

For some inexplicable reason, I nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled, as though comforting me. “Be good. It won’t hurt in a moment.”

While I was still digesting his words, the hand behind his back came forward. It held a gun.

That darkest thing in my memories.

“What do you mean?” I instinctively stepped back, tugging at my wound, and hissed through clenched teeth. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t kill me if I apologized to Huaming?”

“I did.” He approached with a hint of amusement. Shifting moonlight bathed the night; silver gleamed beneath it. “But you seem to have forgotten something else I said. If you aren’t Xu Ye, I’ll kill you.”

My eyes flew wide.

Like a hunter toying with dying prey, he savored my final struggle.

This time, I truly didn’t understand.