Chapter 2--Lin Xiaoyu spent the entire car ride in silence.
Not the calm kind.
The about-to-explode kind.
Zhou Yanchen drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually near the gearshift. No music. No small talk. Just the low hum of the engine and Xiaoyu's rapidly rising blood pressure.
She finally snapped.
"So," she said sweetly, "how many people have you tricked into marrying you?"
He didn't even blink. "You're the first."
"That's not comforting."
"This is a contract marriage," he replied. "Mutual benefit. Emotional detachment."
She scoffed. "You say that like feelings come with a switch."
"They do," he said. "If you're rational."
Xiaoyu laughed. "Oh, great. I married a robot."
He turned slightly. "You married a man who's paying off your debt."
That shut her up.
Annoyingly effective.
The car pulled into an underground parking lot of a high-end residential complex. Xiaoyu stared at the building above.
"This is where you live?"
"For now."
She crossed her arms. "Let me guess—penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows, overpriced furniture?"
He pressed the button for the elevator. "You'll see."
The elevator doors slid shut.
Silence again.
The space felt smaller. Too quiet. Xiaoyu suddenly became very aware of the faint scent of his cologne—clean, understated, expensive.
Stop it, she warned herself.
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened to exactly what she'd predicted.
Minimalist apartment. Black, grey, and white. Spotless. Cold.
"This place looks like no one's ever laughed in it," she muttered.
"I don't invite people here."
"Shocking."
He took off his jacket and hung it neatly. "Ground rules."
She perked up. "Oh, I love rules. Especially unreasonable ones."
He ignored the sarcasm.
"First, we live together. My grandmother has eyes everywhere."
"Second?"
"No public arguments."
She blinked. "You married the wrong woman."
"Third," he continued, unfazed, "no emotional involvement."
Xiaoyu burst out laughing.
"You're serious?" she said between laughs. "You expect two healthy adults living together to feel nothing?"
"Yes."
She wiped her eyes. "Wow. You really are delusional."
He stepped closer, voice calm but firm. "Lin Xiaoyu, I don't fall in love. I don't have time for it."
Her smile faded slightly.
"Good," she said. "Because I don't plan to stay."
He paused. "Six months."
"Six months," she echoed. "And then divorce?"
"Yes."
She studied his face, searching for something—hesitation, guilt, anything.
There was nothing.
"Fine," she said suddenly. "But I have conditions too."
He raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"First, separate rooms."
"Agreed."
"Second, no controlling my personal life."
"As long as you don't embarrass me."
She glared. "Define embarrass."
"Dating other men."
Her heart jumped. "Excuse me?"
"You're my wife," he said flatly. "At least on paper."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. Third—no treating me like an employee."
He considered it. "Fair."
She took a deep breath. "Then we have a deal."
He extended his hand.
She shook it.
The moment their palms touched, Xiaoyu felt a strange jolt—warm, sudden, unsettling.
She yanked her hand back immediately.
Nope. Absolutely not.
"This is a bad idea," she muttered.
"Yes," Zhou Yanchen agreed. "It is."
That night, Xiaoyu lay awake in the guest room, staring at the ceiling.
She had a husband she didn't know.
A debt she couldn't escape.
And six months of pretending ahead of her.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from her best friend:
[Did you survive last night?]
Xiaoyu typed back slowly.
[I accidentally got married.]
Three dots appeared instantly.
Then—
[HAHAHAHA stop lying.]
Xiaoyu looked at the red marriage certificate on the bedside table.
Her lips twitched.
This was either the beginning of the worst mistake of her life—
Or the most ridiculous love story Shanghai had ever seen.