The bar felt colder after she left.
Han Jiayan stared at the folder she'd placed on the counter like it might detonate. His fingers twitched toward it, then drew back, as if touching it would seal some dark fate.
Li Xinyue.
He'd known the name before she said it. Her face had been on business magazines, LED billboards across Shanghai, screens during national business award galas. She was more myth than person in his world.
And now, that myth wanted to marry him?
He laughed under his breath, but it wasn't joy. It was the kind of laugh you let out when reality cracks a little around the edges.
The rest of his shift dragged like a punishment. Every minute, he could feel the weight of the folder calling to him. As he left, it was still there, untouched.
But he took it.
---
Back at home, their small two-bedroom apartment was alive with familiar sounds—his mother Cheng Meilan humming a lullaby while chopping vegetables, his father Han Zhiguo coughing softly from the other room, his elder sister Han Meilin nagging Han Yue, the younger of the two sisters, about skipping chores again.
He slipped into his room, locked the door, and sat on the floor with the folder.
The contract was written in precise legalese. Terms. Clauses. Non-disclosure. Asset protection. A full year of contractual marriage, in name only. Public appearances required. A pretense of affection, but no physical intimacy unless mutually consented. The payment—ten million yuan—would be transferred in monthly installments, with bonuses for exceptional performance.
His eyes skimmed faster as his heart raced.
She really wasn't joking.
He rubbed his hands over his face. This wasn't just money. This was freedom. His father's hospital debt. His mother's arthritis treatment. Household expenses. Delayed repairs. Stability his family never had.
But… could he be someone's puppet?
He saw her again in his mind—those sharp eyes, the way she looked at him like she already owned him. Like he was a chess piece she could move at will.
And the worst part?
It stirred something in him.
No.
He stood abruptly. He wasn't going to sell himself. Not like this. Not because he was poor.
---
The next morning, he waited outside Yuehua Corporation, gripping the folder tightly. He'd hardly slept.
When he stepped inside, the receptionist blinked in surprise.
"Han Jiayan, here to see Chairwoman Li. I have an appointment," he said, voice steady.
A few minutes later, he was led to a private elevator. The ride was silent, smooth, and far too fast. The doors opened to an entire floor of sleek black glass, modern minimalism, and a chilling air of power.
She was already there, behind her desk, reviewing documents.
Without looking up, she said, "I was expecting you an hour earlier."
"I had classes."
"Drop them. You won't have time once we start."
"I'm not doing this," he said, holding out the folder.
She finally looked at him.
"You came all the way here to say no?"
"Yes. I… I appreciate the offer. But I can't be bought. I'm not a thing."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "You're braver than I thought."
"I'm not brave. I'm just trying to live with some dignity."
She stood slowly, walking toward him. Today she wore a white blouse tucked into high-waisted navy slacks, her heels soft against the floor. Her aura was less seductive, more corporate queen.
"And how's that working out for you?" she asked.
Jiayan clenched his jaw. "I'm surviving."
"Barely."
"That's not your business."
"But it could be."
He scowled. "Do you always manipulate people like this?"
She didn't blink. "I don't manipulate. I negotiate."
"And if I refuse?"
She stepped even closer, their faces inches apart.
"Then someone else gets the opportunity. But I won't lie, Mr. Han. I chose you for a reason. You're presentable, polite, obedient. And… you look good in a suit."
He flushed.
She leaned in slightly, voice like silk. "You don't have to love me. You don't even have to like me. Just play your role. Make it convincing. And when the year ends, we walk away richer. You with your freedom, me with my control."
"I can't fake a marriage," he whispered.
Her eyes flicked to his lips. "Most people do it for a lifetime."
He looked away, fists clenched.
"I'm not your pet," he murmured.
"No. You'll be my husband."
He took a step back. "I said no. That's final."
He turned and walked toward the elevator.
Her voice followed him.
"You'll be back, Han Jiayan. Because the world doesn't care about pride. It cares about survival."
---
He rode the elevator down in silence, heart pounding. He thought he'd feel powerful for refusing. He didn't.
Outside, his phone buzzed.
[Mom – Cheng Meilan]: "Jiayan, can you pick up medicine for Dad? The insurance said they won't cover this month's refill."
[Han Meilin – Elder Sister #1]: "Jiayan, the electricity bill came. It's overdue. I'll cover it if I have to, but… it's getting tight."
[Han Yue – Elder Sister #2]: "They cut your shift again?! Want me to call your manager and raise hell?"
Another buzz.
His part-time job just slashed hours. Again.
He closed his eyes.
At that moment, reality weighed more than dignity.
And Li Xinyue's offer began to feel less like manipulation and more like a lifeline.
---