MPH - 1

At the half-mile-long street near the East Gate, crowds poured out of the school gates like a stream. Beneath the towering cypress trees, the atmosphere became instantly lively.

I slowly stuffed the books in my hands into my backpack, one by one, while dragging my feet toward the school gate.

The towering granite stone that stood majestically before the wide-open gate was now within sight. I squatted down and absentmindedly tied the white shoelaces on my sneakers.

A classmate passed by the road, saw me, and smiled. “Jiang Yiyin, are you heading out?”

“Ah, yeah,” I mumbled, standing up with a shallow smile.

Once outside the school gate, I glanced around and headed to the side, toward the newsstand.

“Can I have an entertainment weekly?” I loved reading gossip magazines to death. Stars dressed in dazzling outfits were plastered across the pages—yesterday kissing passionately with a beautiful woman at a nightclub, and today openly holding hands with their innocent girlfriend at a wedding banquet. Under the bizarre flashes of media lights, their sweet professional smiles looked like distorted Japanese dolls. Each generation had its own charming celebrities, and every day brought new scandals. It was a constant reminder of how absurd this world could be.

“Young Miss.” A respectful voice followed. My hand froze for a second as I paid, but I ignored it. I kept my head down, took the change from the newspaper vendor, and walked away, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Miss Yiyin, the car is over there.” The man’s voice persisted.

I sighed softly, clutching the colorful magazine in my hand, then turned and walked toward the roadside.

A black luxury sedan was already parked conspicuously by the curb. The man approached the car, his demeanor respectful, meticulously opening the back door. His left hand steadied the door while his right hovered above it.

With a furtive expression, I half-covered my face with the magazine in my hand and darted into the car like a rat scurrying across the street.

Uncle Zhang, who drove for the Jiang family, commanded great respect. His connection with our family traced back to our grandparents’ generation. His father had fled with my great-grandfather from Shanghai to the south during wartime. Though they were nominally master and servant, in reality, they were comrades in hardship. Uncle Zhang was born in the Jiang household and had served three generations of our family, starting from my grandfather. He was loyal and steadfast, a true elder statesman of the household.

He was a man of gentle character, never talkative or intrusive, and always treated me fairly. Though I rarely expressed it, I deeply respected him as an elder.

Perhaps that was why my grandfather sent him to pick me up.

The previous few drivers he’d sent had been abandoned at the school gate as I walked away without a second glance.

I didn’t like going home.

Leaning my head against the car window, I looked down at my fingers. There was still a faint trace of watercolor on my index finger—a translucent blue. I wiped it on my white shirt, leaving behind a smudge like a tear, spreading faintly across the fabric.

I didn’t like it when people talked about my mother. Though they rarely mentioned her, the image of a seductive woman who abandoned her husband and daughter to flee abroad was enough to cast shame upon this old-fashioned, dignified family. Even divorce, in such a household, was considered disgraceful.

I also disliked my father. To marry a famous socialite, he sent me to a boarding school when I was twelve. After that, he only picked me up perfunctorily on weekends.

He had left me outside for years, not realizing that the so-called eldest daughter of the Jiang family had been worn down by time into a quiet, obedient child. All I wanted was to be an ordinary student, and I had long lost any remnants of the elegance and grace expected of a declining aristocratic family. Even after turning eighteen, I still felt incredibly out of place in this house.

All I hoped for was to graduate from university as soon as possible, become self-reliant, and leave this home forever.

The luxury sedan drove smoothly for nearly an hour, exiting the city and entering a secluded countryside villa district.

An endless expanse of green plains stretched before us, and the car weaved through dense tree shadows.

Scattered among the picturesque hills in the distance were private residences.

The long red roof of the Jiang family’s ancestral home was already in sight.

The car traveled along a broad road, flanked by tall birch trees rustling in the wind. At the end, the massive gates opened silently.

The car came to a stop in front of the courtyard. Uncle Zhang came over to open the door. “Miss Yiyin, we’ve arrived.”

I adjusted the straps of my backpack, stepped out of the car, and gazed at the mansion bathed in the evening sun. The courtyard under the wutong trees was shaded in lush greenery.

The thick, dark red cedar doors were wide open. Aunt Zhang greeted me, took my backpack, and called into the house, “Mr. Jiang, the young miss has returned.”

I walked through the spacious foyer and entered the elegant main hall. My father was sitting on the sofa, brewing tea, while an imposing-looking elder sat in the armchair opposite him.

I stood to the side, hands clasped respectfully, and greeted them. “Grandfather, Father, I’m home.”

Just then, a voluptuous yet graceful woman entered, carrying an exquisite porcelain plate. Seeing me, she smiled warmly. “Yingying’s back!”

“Aunt Yun.” For years, I refused to call her “Mom.” The whole family seemed to have grown accustomed to my stubbornness. My grandmother once remarked that I was too stiff and unyielding, unable to please others, and full of obstinate pride.

Aunt Yun invited me to sit on the sofa and offered me tea and snacks. I sat quietly, nibbling on a piece of soybean brittle candy. Our family’s roots were in Jiaxing, Zhejiang, so we had always enjoyed the sweet, glutinous flavors of Jiangsu and Zhejiang cuisine.

I sat stiffly for a while, listening to them discuss market prices and stock fluctuations, my mind gradually wandering.

“Your aunt is also at home, in the backyard,” my father suddenly said to me.

I knew my father felt some guilt toward me, but as a member of the family, I also relied on the family’s protection. He had his own difficulties.

Over the years, my cold attitude toward him might have hurt him secretly, but it was too late to change anything now. When he finally gave the order to let me leave, I was already immensely grateful.

I stood up, politely greeted the elders seated in the room, and hurried to the backyard to find my aunt.

My aunt was my grandfather’s youngest daughter, only six years older than me. I had always followed her around when I was little. Later, she went to study in the U.S. during university and would send me chocolates every Christmas. We had always been close.

After passing through a long grape arbor, I looked up to see her trimming jasmine buds in the garden on the second floor.

I clambered up the stairs noisily. Hearing my footsteps, she turned around and called out with a laugh, “Yingying!”

I rushed over and hugged her waist. “Auntie, is your husband treating you badly?”

My aunt had gotten married earlier this year. Her husband was a university professor, a refined and elegant man. She hadn’t married into a prestigious family as my grandfather had hoped, which caused quite a stir at home. But as my grandfather’s youngest daughter and someone with a modern outlook, the family eventually relented.

“Careful—” She quickly set the scissors down on the flowerpot. “Watch out—”

She pulled me to the rooftop garden to drink tea and smiled. “Come, tell your aunt how your studies are going. No wonder your father is hopping mad—you’re studying things meant for boys.”

“He doesn’t care what I study,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. “He thinks daughters only need to dress well, get married, and learn to cook. And besides,” I added with mock seriousness, “please don’t discriminate against my major based on gender.”

“Haha,” my aunt laughed. “You’ve become quite the sharp-tongued girl since starting university. Isn’t architecture something for boys?”

“Auntie, it’s art design, not architectural design!” I glared at her, puffing up my cheeks.

“All right, all right, our future designer from the Jiang family—would you like some tea?” My aunt poured me a cup, laughing. We were still just like when we were kids, hiding in our little corner, enjoying our carefree moments.

As the sun set, the vast, verdant plains were bathed in golden light. I leaned back in my chair, feeling the gentle breeze caress my face. In the distance, I could see the winding flow of traffic several miles away.

“Little Aunt, whose cars are those?” I held my black tea and gazed at the row of vehicles gleaming under the setting sun.

This area was part of the old residential district in the city. Every household here belonged to an established family with deep roots in the city. However, as the city developed, this neighborhood gradually declined. Many families had purchased new homes in the emerging commercial districts downtown, leaving their ancestral mansions for occasional visits.

My aunt glanced briefly at the direction of the traffic flow. “The Lao family, who live above us.”

I sighed softly. “No wonder.”

The Lao family, now one of the wealthiest families in the city, owned a grand mansion as their ancestral home. When I was little, on rare occasions when my mother was in the mood, she would take me and my aunt to attend banquets at the Lao residence.

At that time, my aunt was just blossoming into a graceful young woman, eagerly hoping to be dressed up by our mother in elegant attire for such glamorous events. As for me, still a child, my only concern at these gatherings was the delicious cakes and ice cream.

Those childhood memories had long since faded like smoke in the wind. My aunt had grown into a bright and sharp-witted woman, spending her days in courtrooms engaging in heated debates, no longer fond of lace dresses. As for me, I never inherited my mother’s dazzling charm or social grace. I was simply an ordinary woman who felt out of place in crowded settings.

The Lao family had moved out of their ancestral home years ago, building a luxurious mansion in the prime areas of the new city.

Hand in hand with my aunt, we stood on the rooftop garden, watching with interest as several luxury cars pulled up in front of the spacious courtyard surrounded by vast greenery.

The chauffeurs opened the rear doors, and people began to step out. I noticed that from one of the cars farther away, a few individuals emerged, each carrying a white box.

Surprised, I asked softly, “Why are there doctors?”

My aunt thought for a moment. “Oh, probably their private family doctor. Even for a short ancestral worship stay of three to five days, they bring their own doctors—it’s quite a show. But I’ve heard recently that Lao Jiazhuo’s health hasn’t been great. Maybe it’s because of him.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I blurted out, “That handsome but cold Second Master?”

My aunt glanced at me with a teasing smile. “So Yingying still remembers him?”

I shook my head and laughed. “I was so young back then—how could I remember?”

Back then, I was small, dressed by my mother in a white chiffon dress like a doll, squeezed between the bare legs of elegantly dressed women. How could I have any beautiful memories from that time?

“In the blink of an eye, more than ten years have passed.” My aunt sighed, a rare moment of sentimentality.

I kept my eyes wide open, staring at the distant villa courtyard. Shadows of people moved back and forth, but they were too far away for me to see clearly.

I’ve never liked overly large houses. As an adult, all I’ve ever wanted is a cozy 100-square-meter apartment, a husband, children, and the simple joy of a noisy family gathered around a table, heads bowed together over a warm bowl of soup at night. That, to me, is true happiness.

What use is a 3,000-square-foot mansion, a luxurious hall, or a breathtaking courtyard? The cabinets are filled with pearl porcelain dinnerware that’s been shelved after breaking just one spoon. The exquisite rosewood dressing table in my grandparents’ room, along with the silk chairs embroidered with silver threads, has started to fade. The beautiful candelabras and porcelain, though meticulously cleaned daily by the servants, exude an air of elegance but also carry the scent of decay. The house feels cold and lifeless during the day, with only the nanny feeding formula to my younger brother to keep him quiet. My grandparents have their own circle of mahjong friends, and the mansion often feels eerily silent, especially at night. Lying in my second-floor room, I stared blankly at the heavy velvet curtains, the pearl strands swaying gently in the night breeze.

This house is meticulous in every detail—clothing, food, and living standards are all carefully curated. On the surface, it appears dazzling, but deep within its silence, one can sense the rot.

I turned over in bed, the jade pendant around my neck rubbing against my skin as it slipped down slightly, bringing a faint chill.

At dinner that evening, I unexpectedly became the center of attention, which left me feeling both surprised and flattered.

My grandmother, holding my younger brother, sat beside me and suddenly asked to see the jade pendant around my neck. Surprised, I obediently pulled it out from beneath my collar. It was a simple, unadorned jade Buddha pendant. Compared to the flashy jewelry in stores today, its design was somewhat outdated, but it was solid and masculine. After wearing it for so long, it had developed an unusually warm luster.

I had never questioned the origins of this jade pendant. It had been around my neck for as long as I could remember.

Though the Jiang family business had stagnated in recent years, our foundation remained strong. When my two younger brothers were born, my grandfather was delighted and gifted them thick, auspicious gold locks from a renowned old shop in the city. He even commissioned a zodiac-themed green jade sculpture from Qianbao Pavilion for Aunt Yun.

I had secretly speculated that perhaps this jade pendant was given to me as a token of favor when I was born, despite being a girl. As the eldest granddaughter, maybe the Jiang patriarch had bestowed it upon me.

But earlier in the afternoon, I had seen a flicker of long-forgotten joy in my grandmother’s eyes.

Lost in thought, I tossed and turned in bed for a long time. In the end, I didn’t fall asleep until 2 a.m., and by 10 a.m., I was still groggy. Aunt Zhang knocked on my door: “Young Miss, your grandfather wants you to get up quickly and meet an elder downstairs.”

As I got up and washed, I was still somewhat dazed. For years, the Jiang family’s social engagements had forgotten about me entirely. Today, to receive such unexpected attention, I almost wanted to shout “Long live!” three times.

I changed into a pink cotton shirt, a gray knitted cardigan, and a pleated plaid skirt. As I walked down the stairs, I saw my grandparents sitting in the living room, chatting and drinking tea with guests.

Approaching the sofa, I saw an elderly lady dressed in an exquisite Chinese silk robe with intricate button detailing. She smiled warmly at me: “You’re Yingying?”

I smiled slightly and lowered my head, my gaze fixed on the round, glossy buttons on her chest. “Yes, hello.”

My grandmother chimed in from the side: “Yingying, this is Mrs. Lao. She even held you when you were little.”

Every elder reminiscing about the past always brought up such moments, but no matter how clichéd, it always added a touch of warmth. I looked up and smiled at her.

Mrs. Lao was very approachable. She took my hand and invited me to sit on the sofa, asking routine questions about my age, studies, and hobbies. I answered honestly, one by one.

After a while, my grandmother returned and announced: “Madam Zhang and Madam Wang have arrived. Meiru, let’s go to the table. There will be plenty of time for Yingying to spend with you later.”

Mrs. Lao stood up and smiled at my grandmother: “This child is truly well-behaved and endearing.”

My grandmother replied with a laugh: “She’s usually obedient, but she has a stubborn streak. You’ll need to be patient with her.”

“A girl, especially a young one, having her own opinions is a good thing,” Mrs. Lao said with a smile as she stood up to call for a game of mahjong. “Yingying, I’ll play cards first.”

I quickly stood up with her. “Alright.”

Her smile was gentle as she slipped a heavy red envelope into my hand.

I was then ushered out of the living room by a group of servants and relatives.

Back in my room, I opened the stiff paper envelope, adorned with luxurious crimson and gold characters wishing prosperity, longevity, and health. Inside was a thick stack of cash.

It was customary for elders to give red envelopes to children of old family friends. Having seen many such gestures over the years, I was still astonished by the generosity of this one.

I slowly rubbed the bills between my fingers, feeling ripples of emotion spreading through my heart, growing wider and wider.

That night, I hid in my room, sketching and practicing drawing from my textbooks. I immersed myself in the world of decorative arts and fabric design described by Dijsselhof, lost in the interplay of light and shadow, colors shifting and blending.

Suddenly, my aunt called for me from downstairs. She had been out for days gathering evidence for a case and hadn’t returned for dinner. I wondered what she needed.

I got up and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. The water rushed over my fingers until every trace of paint was gone. The Jiang family placed strict demands on the appearance of its descendants.

In the hall, the crystal chandelier cast a soft glow. My grandparents sat on the velvet sofa in front of a carved sandalwood screen, with my father and Aunt Yun seated beside them. My aunt lounged in a corner, her eyes darting toward me. It was quite the gathering.

I tried to remain calm, sat down, and drank a cup of tea while listening to their casual conversation, occasionally glancing at my aunt.

My aunt gave me a meaningful look, signaling that she didn’t know what was going on either.

“Ahem, ahem,” my father finally looked up from the horse racing guide in his hand, glanced at Aunt Yun beside him, and spoke. “Yingying, do you have a boyfriend at school?”

“No.” I was completely baffled. I was already in my third year of university—wasn’t it a bit late to be asking this now?

Aunt Yun smiled politely. “What kind of question is that, dear? Yingying is still young, and she’s such a good girl. How could she just casually date someone?”

Grandmother chimed in. “Exactly. She shouldn’t be like those modern girls who dress provocatively and show affection with boys in public—it’s disgraceful.”

My aunt quietly rolled her eyes at me, smirking under her breath.

I felt a sense of impending doom but had no time to dwell on it. I sat up straight, trying to stay composed.

“And have you thought about marriage?” my father asked.

“What?” I was growing more confused by the second.

“Yingying,” Grandmother interjected, choosing her words carefully. “When you were born, our family arranged a betrothal with the Lao family.”

“A… betrothal?” My eyes widened in shock, and I could barely speak.

“At that time, your grandfather was doing business in Shanghai. Mr. Lao, who worked at a foreign trading company, ran into some trouble. Your grandfather lent him a large sum of money to help him out of a tight spot. Mr. Lao never forgot this kindness, and the two became old friends. Later, when we fled the war and settled in Guangzhou, the Lao family helped us. Mrs. Lao and I also got along well. When you were born, Mr. Lao sent over an ancestral jade as a token of the engagement. That sealed the arrangement.”

Still clinging to a shred of rationality, my voice trembled slightly. “You mean… the grandmother who came yesterday, and this jade pendant I’ve been wearing…”

“Yes.” Grandfather tapped his sandalwood pipe against the ashtray and nodded.

My aunt interrupted. “Who’s the groom?”

My mind raced with shock and suspicion. All I could think of was my mother—oh, my open-minded mother, who had always treated me like a friend and indulged me. How could she allow something like this to happen without ever telling me?

My father slowly continued. “Now, the elder Mr. Lao has handed over his business to his two grandsons. The eldest grandson, Lao Jiajun, is already married. The unmarried one is the second grandson, Lao Jiazhuo. He’s 26 years old and currently the head of Asia-Pacific investment advisory at Lao Tong.”

A sudden calm washed over me.

Grandmother smiled faintly. “Today, Mrs. Lao came to see you and said she liked you very much, Yingying. Would you be willing to marry into the Lao family?”

“What?!” My aunt jumped up in disbelief, blurting out, “Are you serious? What era are we living in?!”

My father shot her a glare but said nothing, his gaze fixed on me.

Aunt Yun smiled gently. “Well, no matter how much education a girl receives, she still needs a place to settle down eventually. The Lao family is of such high standing—you’ll definitely be well taken care of if you marry into their family.”

My aunt’s voice rose. “Dad! This isn’t 1923! How can you still believe in such absurd things!”

Grandfather frowned, his tone growing stern. “No matter the era, it’s the same! Our family owes the Laos a great debt. We made a promise, and we must honor it!”

“You can’t repay a favor like this!” My aunt argued fiercely. “Dad, this is about Yingying’s lifelong happiness!”

Ignoring the heated argument around her, Grandmother’s sharp eyes locked onto me. “Yingying, what do you say?”

I kept my head bowed, staring intently at the string of sandalwood prayer beads in her hands.

“I’m willing,” I heard myself say, my voice so quiet it seemed to drift like a fallen leaf on a June afternoon.

The room fell silent.

My voice was faint, almost ethereal, but each word rang clear as if etched in stone: “If Mr. Lao’s second son sees fit to consider me, I am willing to marry him.”

My aunt shot to her feet, shouting at me, “Jiang Yiyin!”

I glanced up at her from the corner of my eye. Her eyes blazed with fury, as if she wanted to grab me and shake some sense into me.

I remained silent.

She spat out one last sentence: “This world has gone mad!”

Then she stormed upstairs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grandmother’s serene smile, as tranquil as a Buddha holding a flower.

---

Monday, I returned to school as usual.

Classes were busy, and after class, my classmates scattered noisily, packing up their drawing papers and laughing. No one knew the turmoil brewing inside me.

Huihui texted me, saying she had another class and asked me to wait for her in the library so we could have lunch together.

Wei Huihui was my best friend. We’d known each other since middle school. She was a lively, cheerful, and likable girl.

We both got into Nanjing University. Though I didn’t say it, I was secretly thrilled. It was Huihui who screamed and hugged me when the results came out: “Yingying, hahaha, we’re still together!”

Huihui had a keen eye for detail. Since high school, she’d always been able to see through my little schemes. What’s worse—or better—was that she had an insatiable passion for gossip, which is why she ended up majoring in journalism.

With one hand holding my phone and the other carrying my bag, I slowly walked out of the classroom.

It was early April, and a faint chill still lingered in the air. A tall boy in a blue sweater held his girlfriend’s hand, smiling tenderly as he leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

Hmph. Magazines always said that the time spent with someone you love is the most beautiful time.

But all I felt was melancholy.

“Jiang Yiyin!” Someone called my name as I crossed the small plaza in front of Wensi Building. The voice was crisp and pleasant, yet carried a subtle undertone of seriousness.

I turned around and saw a tall man standing beneath the swaying hibiscus leaves. He wore brown coarse-cloth pants, a white shirt, and a navy-blue cardigan. His gaze was focused and calm, almost cold. The late spring sunlight illuminated his ivory-white skin, smooth and flawless like porcelain.

I felt dizzy, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and looked again. As I recognized him, I froze for a moment.

He approached, a faint smile flickering across his face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. His voice dropped slightly as he spoke. “Yingying, I’m Lao Jiazhuo, the second son of the Lao family.”

I don’t know how long I stood there, stunned, before I finally snapped back to reality. “Mr. Lao, nice to meet you.”

He called me “Yingying,” just like any distant cousin or family friend—warm and familiar, leaving no room for ambiguity or hidden intentions.

“May I have a word with you?” His tone was polite and measured, exuding the perfect balance of courtesy and refinement. His upbringing was evident in every gesture.

Only then did I notice that nearly all the girls along the school path were stealing glances at him.

I hurriedly nodded. “Sure.”

Lao Jiazhuo gave a slight nod, gesturing for me to follow him. A black car was parked by the roadside.

He opened the passenger door for me. As I bent to get in, I caught a whiff of his scent—a subtle fragrance that carried the aura of wealth and privilege, the kind of opulence that spoke of generations of prosperity.

“Just finished class?” He drove calmly, his voice light as he asked.

“Mm.”

“Is there a quiet place near the school where we can sit and talk?”

“Mm, there’s a café near the East Gate.”

“Are you talking about Nanjue?”

A flicker of surprise crossed my mind, but I nodded anyway.

“I used to study at Nanjing University,” he said, turning his head and smiling. “So it’s not strange that I know about it.”

I murmured softly, “So we’re alumni.”

Lao Jiazhuo parked the car and walked into the café with me. Since it wasn’t yet time for classes to end, there were only a few people inside.

I had been in class all morning and was already hungry, so I unhesitatingly ordered a large cappuccino and a slice of cheesecake. Lao Jiazhuo only ordered a coffee.

The waitress, wearing a blue apron with lace trim, lingered near Lao Jiazhuo, sweetly asking, “Sir, would you like anything else?”

Her voice dripped with honey.

I lowered my head slightly as I heard him politely respond to her.

Then the atmosphere grew quiet.

I placed my hands under the table, took a deep breath, and finally looked up at him.

He was gazing out the window, lost in thought for a moment. Sensing my gaze, he turned back to look at me.

I silently marveled at how incredibly handsome he was—his features so sharp and clear, the lines of his profile strikingly angular and captivating.

He didn’t seem to mind my direct stare, or perhaps he was used to women looking at him with admiration. He began to speak: “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced. I hope you don’t find this too intrusive.”

My heart raced, and I struggled to regain my composure, stuttering slightly as I replied, “Ah, no, not at all.”

“That’s good.” His posture was upright and natural, his hands resting calmly on the table, a clean watch adorning his wrist. He exuded an air of unwavering confidence.

I gradually calmed down.

As I sipped my coffee, I already knew what he wanted to discuss, and I felt a bit embarrassed. “Perhaps… we do need to meet and talk.”

He gave a faint smile, seeming to relax a little as well.

“Yingying, may I ask why you agreed—” Lao Jiazhuo paused, carefully choosing his words, “to this marriage arrangement?”

My mind raced. A man like him, from a wealthy family, probably didn’t want to be tied down by marriage so early. Perhaps he already had a long-term girlfriend, but was being pressured by his family into this engagement. Today, he likely came to negotiate with me and make it clear that I shouldn’t entertain any fantasies.

“I was initially drawn to your immense wealth, but after seeing you today, I’ve become even more captivated by your extraordinary beauty,” I said flatly, my tone as serious as a philosopher debating in Heidelberg.

He studied me with amusement, finding my response entertaining, and gave a slight smile.

“No, you’re not that kind of girl,” he said confidently, looking straight at me.

“I want to leave the Jiang family. I crave freedom,” I suddenly murmured.

“Even through marriage?” He raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Even through marriage,” I repeated, then looked up and smiled at him. “It’s just a formality, isn’t it?”

He remained impassive. “Yes. I hope our cooperation will be pleasant.”

“Mr. Lao,” I suddenly spoke softly, “How is my father’s business recently?”

He seemed caught off guard by my sudden question, his expression faltering for a moment.

“Your father intends to borrow 86 million from Lao Tong,” he replied without hesitation.

I had already guessed as much, and hearing it confirmed didn’t make me feel any worse.

So, I, Jiang Yiyin, was worth quite a price.

“Is there no other way?” I asked hesitantly.

“The Jiang family has declined in recent years. It seems no bank in the city is willing to take such a risk.”

“May I ask you a question?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, waiting for me to continue.

“Is this your decision, or your family’s?”

Lao Jiazhuo answered calmly: “My grandmother deeply believes in traditional Chinese culture. She consulted a fortune-teller who analyzed your facial features and birth chart. You have a round face and a straight nose, which are signs of a harmonious and prosperous household. You’re also considered to have a face that brings prosperity to your husband. Unfortunately for you, our birth times are highly compatible—it’s a fate of mutual success.”

Pfft—I spat the sip of coffee I had just taken back into the cup.

Lao Jiazhuo handed me a napkin, and I chuckled. “So my destiny is that great, huh?”

“Why did you agree?” I wiped away the brown coffee stain that had splashed onto my fingers.

“That’s not important, is it?” he replied. “Perhaps when this arrangement ends, I’ll tell you.”

With just a few words, he had exposed my cards while leaving me with nothing but a polite smile. This man was undoubtedly a master negotiator. Dealing with someone like me—a novice—he didn’t even need to draw his sword.

“Yingying, three years,” he said, rising from his seat with one hand on the edge of the table. “After three years, I’ll give you your freedom. During this time, you can date whoever you want—I won’t interfere.”

---

After meeting with Lao Jiazhuo, I returned to the dormitory and collapsed into bed, even forgetting my lunch plans with Huihui.

The next afternoon, during class in the comprehensive building, a hand suddenly grabbed my hair, followed by a mocking voice: “Jiang Yiyin, not paying attention in class? What are you doing?”

I calmly put away the romance novel I had been reading and glanced up lazily. “Wei classmate, what are you doing in the design department’s class?”

Wei Huihui plopped down into the seat next to me, her eyes filled with mock indignation. “You didn’t answer your phone, and you made me wait in the cafeteria all noon yesterday. Tell me, where did you disappear to?”

I shrugged. “I’ll treat you to dinner tonight as an apology.”

Huihui’s face lit up with a big smile. “Deal.”

I laughed. She really was such a straightforward and cheerful person.

Finally, class ended, and Huihui and I lazily stayed seated, waiting for the others to leave. Suddenly, my phone rang inside my bag.

It was from home. Grandmother asked, “Yingying, are you out of class?”

“Yes, why?”

“The matriarch just called. She wants to invite you for tea.”

I felt a twinge of nervousness. Was the Lao family so eager to secure this granddaughter-in-law? They were already trying to build rapport so soon.

“Yingying, don’t forget your manners when meeting with elders,” Grandmother reminded me anxiously.

I could only agree.

I must have looked uneasy because Wei Huihui kept glancing at me, but I had no time to deal with her questions.

Soon, another call came in. This time, it was a kind but unfamiliar middle-aged woman’s voice: “Yingying?”

“Yes, hello.”

“Has your grandmother told you? Do you have time?”

“Yes, I just finished class.”

“I’ve reserved a table at Huangdu Hotel. Would you like me to send a driver for you?”

“No need, I’ll take the subway—it’s convenient.”

“Alright. I’ll have Xiao Guo wait for you at the entrance.”

I quickly packed my textbooks and art supplies into my bag, then grabbed Huihui by the arm: “I can’t have dinner with you today—I’ll make it up to you another time.”

“Hey!” Huihui jumped up in frustration, shouting after me indignantly: “Jiang Yiyin, are you secretly seeing someone behind my back?”

I waved my hand dismissively over my shoulder and headed toward the school gate.

At four o’clock in the afternoon, sitting in the plush, comfortable sofa at Huangdu, surrounded by the fragrant steam of black tea, I felt drowsy as I gazed at the warm sunlight streaming through the distant glass windows.

“Yingying?” The elderly matriarch called my name.

“Hmm?” I straightened slightly.

That’s when I noticed an elegantly dressed woman standing by our table. Mrs. Lao introduced her: “This is Ms. Lin Baorong.”

Ms. Lin smiled at me and sat down, handing me several beautifully gilded catalogs. “These are this year’s new collections from several major jewelry brands, along with some catalogs from traditional shops. Miss Jiang, please take a look.”

I flipped through them—wow, glittering gold, silver, copper, and iron. Was I really about to ascend overnight?

“We’ll need to pair a few sets of evening gowns with the jewelry, so naturally, we should choose something good,” Mrs. Lao said with a smile. “Take a look and see which styles you like.”

“This one looks pretty good,” I pointed out. The design was somewhat old-fashioned, but dignified and grand. Most importantly, the stones embedded on it were enormous. If Lao Jiazhuo saw his bride wearing a gaudy diamond ring that looked like it belonged to a nouveau riche sugar daddy, his expression of disapproval would surely be amusing.

The elderly matriarch smiled warmly: “Not bad. I think it looks good too. Jewelry should be elegant and proper, exuding joy and stability.”

I gave a sheepish smile. After eating and drinking my fill, I could tell that the Lao family matriarch genuinely liked me. This was much more enjoyable than dealing with Lao Jiazhuo.

In the evening, while idly watching a performance in the campus square, I received a call from my mother.

“Yingying,” she began without preamble, “your father’s secretary informed me that you’ve agreed to marry into the Lao family?”

“Mm,” I replied softly.

“Cancel it immediately.” Her voice carried a rare note of severity.

“I’ve already agreed,” I murmured.

“Is this your decision, or the Jiang family’s?”

“Both.”

“So you’re not opposed to marrying Lao Jiazhuo?”

“Yes.”

“You fool!” Her bright voice snapped with anger.

I remained silent, too intimidated to respond.

“Tell me—are you absolutely certain about this? Is your mind made up?”

I stayed quiet.

She sighed softly on the other end. “It’s my fault for not taking better care of you, Yingying. Cancel the engagement, and I’ll send you abroad to study. How does that sound?”

“Mom, I don’t want to.”

“Because of Lao Jiazhuo?” Her words were sharp.

“No, I think studying domestically is fine. There’s no need to go abroad.”

Her voice softened with resignation. “Daughters grow up, and their thoughts become harder to understand.”

“Mom, did you agree to this back then?”

“You mean the marriage arrangement? I later regretted it, but it was already too late.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention it to me?”

“I hoped you’d never know.”

“Yingying,” her tone grew unusually serious, “have you thought this through?”

“Yes.”

She sighed lightly. “I hope you remain as brave as you are today.”

Her words puzzled me. “Mom, is there something I don’t know?”

“No,” she replied lightly. “Tomorrow, I’ll call Vera Wang in New York. My darling daughter deserves to be the most beautiful bride.”

“Mom,” I laughed, “are you still in Italy?”

“Yes, I’ve moved to Venice. Come visit during summer break.”

Ah, Mother. Even separated by thousands of miles, she was still my last line of defense. I gradually felt reassured.

Standing on the steps, I gazed up at the pitch-black sky.

If this was fate extending its hand to me, I had no choice but to grasp it.

In early April, with its lingering chill and budding warmth, the thin light of spring began to spread.

I started having to run back home continuously. Normally, even on weekends, I preferred staying at school, but now I came whenever called. Though the elders handled most of the arrangements, there were still many details I had to participate in.

During this time, the entire Jiang household was bustling with activity. My grandparents were beaming with joy, and my father even hit a trifecta at the horse races last weekend. Aunt Yun joked with me, saying that our family was experiencing a streak of good fortune.

Mr. Lao, the patriarch, only visited our house once during the formal betrothal ceremony, but Mrs. Lao often came over for tea and chats. Secretaries, assistants, and various other people constantly came and went from our home. Though things were hectic, everyone conducted themselves with courtesy and discretion.

One weekend in mid-April, a famous professor of Chinese classics was giving a lecture at the university. Huihui excitedly snagged two tickets and invited me to go with her, only to receive my disappointing refusal.

I took the subway home by myself.

Leaving the bustling campus behind and walking alone, I felt a sense of solitary determination.

What could I do? Lin Baorong had already informed me that I needed to go to Hong Kong this weekend.

Ms. Lin Baorong, currently the PR manager of Lao Tong, was around thirty years old—a capable and fashionable woman. She seemed to be fully responsible for handling all the intricate rituals and detailed requirements of the Lao family’s wedding preparations. For some reason, the Lao family matriarch treated her with unusual tolerance and kindness. Even when Ms. Lin spoke sharply, the matriarch showed no signs of displeasure.

Later, I learned that she was the only granddaughter of the late Madam Lao’s daughter, making her Lao Jiazhuo’s cousin. It was said that the elder Mr. Lao held her in high regard as his only granddaughter. Ms. Lin conducted herself with grace and tact, neither overly warm nor cold toward me, maintaining a polite but slightly distant demeanor.

A rather difficult woman to deal with.

Aunt Yun, Ms. Lin, and a stylist accompanied me to select a few wedding gowns. Afterward, we went to Lane Crawford to pick out several pairs of shoes. The three ladies were engrossed in discussing the autumn collection launch of a major brand, even though it was still spring. Bored, I wandered around aimlessly. In the elevator, I spotted a female celebrity wearing sneakers, loose clothing, and sunglasses—her presence and aura were just as striking as they were on screen. Like an idle passerby, I watched her for a few minutes, and that alone made this trip worthwhile.

Considering my young age and the fact that I hadn’t yet graduated from university, the Lao family proposed a low-key wedding first, followed by a formal banquet in the city after my graduation.

The elders of the Jiang family had some reservations, but given the Lao family’s reputation for valuing their public image, they reluctantly agreed.

When I heard this explanation, I almost burst out laughing. It was obvious that Lao Jiazhuo wanted to downplay the role of a wife who didn’t quite measure up. How thoughtful of him to come up with such a seemingly noble excuse.

But this arrangement suited me perfectly.

I didn’t want too much attention. I still planned to graduate from university honestly. If, in three years, I ended up being divorced and left with nothing, at least I’d have my degree to fall back on and find work.

May was approaching, and with midterms looming, I had already fallen behind on my studies. I had no choice but to cram and make up for lost time.

The wedding date was quickly set: April 28th.

The location? Rotterdam.

I heard it was Lao Jiazhuo’s idea—to choose a picturesque European country, allowing the elders to enjoy a vacation while attending the wedding.

As for him, I hadn’t seen him since our last meeting. I even doubted whether he remembered that he had a fiancée awaiting marriage.