Chapter One: The Wedding

Shen Huaijing gazed intently at her reflection in the mirror. Her jet-black curls cascaded down her back, eyes slightly upturned and brimming with calculation. The pure white off-shoulder wedding gown revealed her alluring collarbones, and the cinched waist accentuated her slender figure.

"No wonder it's a couture wedding dress," Shen Huaijing murmured.

"Miss Shen, someone in the next room wishes to see you." A hotel staff member knocked politely before entering the dressing room.

Shen Huaijing nodded in acknowledgment. Once the staff member had left, she frowned slightly. Who would come looking for her at a time like this? Puzzling over it, she gathered her elaborate skirt and made her way to the adjacent guest room.

She rapped lightly on the door. A bright female voice responded from within.

"Come in."

Shen Huaijing's suspicion only deepened as she entered, finding a woman lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, nonchalantly sipping coffee, her hat and sunglasses obscuring her features.

"And you are?" Shen Huaijing sat across from her, carefully studying the woman before her.

"What do you think?" The woman removed her hat and sunglasses. Crimson curls fell to her shoulders, revealing a face—one that was almost identical to Shen Huaijing's own.

Yet on closer inspection, the differences were clear. The woman's eyes were narrower, not as elongated as Shen Huaijing's; her presence was more aggressive, more flamboyant.

"Aren't you afraid Father will find out?" Shen Huaijing scoffed coldly. To return at such a moment—did she not fear discovery by the press? Foolish woman.

"Father? Song Hui? You think he deserves the title?" The woman's eyes widened, her fiery red hair seeming to blaze.

"And who is Song Hui?" Shen Huaijing arched a brow, her voice dripping with disdain.

As the woman seemed about to explode with anger, Shen Huaijing suddenly stepped closer, gripping her shoulders, her red lips brushing the woman's ear.

"You know how many reporters are here today. You also know what this wedding means for the Shen Group. If you ruin this, neither of us will escape unscathed. I suggest you get back to Las Vegas at once."

The woman stiffened slightly, lifting her gaze to meet Shen Huaijing’s. After a brief pause, she stood, preparing to leave.

Shen Huaijing watched her go with satisfaction, but just as the woman reached the door, she stopped abruptly.

"Someone's coming."

Without hesitation, Shen Huaijing yanked the woman back from the doorway and shoved her into the bathroom, signaling her to keep silent. The woman shot Shen Huaijing a look of pure hatred, but obediently held her tongue.

Shen Huaijing's expression remained unchanged, but her deep brown pupils contracted sharply.

A click sounded as the door opened and a man stepped inside.

It was Shen Huaijing’s first time meeting Fu Chen. The man had an almost perfect physique, clad in a tailored black suit. His gaze met hers—gentle, clear black eyes, a refined nose, a jawline just slightly too sharp, lips curved in a faint smile.

"Time's almost up. What are you doing in the guest room?" His deep voice resonated.

Shen Huaijing stood awkwardly in front of the bathroom door, dreading the faintest noise from within. If Fu Chen discovered anything, no one would leave this room unscathed.

She could feel beads of sweat trickling down her smooth back.

"The staff said someone was looking for me. I came but found no one—probably a prank," Shen Huaijing feigned innocence, a look of vexation on her face.

Fu Chen said nothing, his sharp gaze sweeping the room, finally settling on the door behind her.

"Did you check the bathroom?" he asked, reaching for the handle.

Thinking quickly, Shen Huaijing hooked her arms around his slender neck, blinking playfully. "Darling, it's time to go. Let's not waste these precious moments on trivialities."

Fu Chen narrowed his eyes, looking down at her enchanting face. He nodded, taking her delicate hand and leading her out, but paused at the door to glance back at the bathroom, sensing something amiss.

He said nothing, though, his brooding gaze fixed on the closed door.

Beneath the azure sky, a red carpet stretched across the emerald lawn, flanked by rows of guests. The front row overflowed with reporters, cameras at the ready, each face tense with anticipation, fearing to miss a single moment.

A perfect couple emerged from the grand entrance, instantly bombarded by countless flashes. The guests rose, applauding as all eyes followed them.

They walked the carpet to the stage, proceeding through the customary rituals and ceremonies of a wedding, and were then besieged by endless interviews from magazines and television stations.

Only as night fell did the grand celebration finally come to an end.

Fu Chen got into the car first. After removing her elaborate accessories, Shen Huaijing made her way toward the exit. Suddenly, she noticed a glimmer in the corner of the lawn. Drawn to it, she bent down and picked up a butterfly-shaped earring, its surface encrusted with tiny diamonds—utterly captivating.

She glanced around; the empty lawn was occupied only by hotel staff cleaning up. She saw no one who might own such an exquisite earring. Quietly, she slipped it into her purse. Just as she turned to leave, a rustle sounded from the taller grass nearby.

Shen Huaijing whirled around. For a brief instant, she saw the silhouette of a woman, but on closer inspection, there was nothing—just the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Her grip on her purse tightened unconsciously as she headed for the car.

Seated inside, she rolled down the window, letting the summer breeze caress her cheek.

The car moved forward, and so did she, as if everything in the past had been swept away by the rushing wind.

"You'll catch a cold that way," Fu Chen said, reaching over to close the window with his left hand, never lifting his head from the tablet in his lap. The screen displayed a graph of Fu Group's stock prices, the surge from the wedding's publicity plain to see.

"Such perfunctory concern for your wife?" Shen Huaijing leaned into his arm, grasping his chin with both hands, forcing him to meet her gaze.

She now wore a dark red cheongsam tailored to highlight her graceful figure. Reclining slightly, the high slit of the dress revealed her fair, slender legs.

"Be good, and you'll be rewarded when we get home," Fu Chen replied, his gaze fathomless and dark, brushing a light kiss across her forehead.

Sensible, Shen Huaijing straightened up, resting her arm on the car door, head tilted as she watched the man work.

If she had to describe Fu Chen in one word, only "noble" came to mind.

His long fingers skimmed across the tablet, lips pursed, eyes never straying from the fluctuating graph. Nothing could distract him—like a nobleman from old England.

To have married a man like this—wasn’t such a fate a blessing in itself? The thought brought Shen Huaijing a secret joy.

The rest of the journey passed in silence.