Lan Su had imagined Huo Yan to be terrifying.
She thought that this person, who grew up in Southeast Asia since childhood and, at a young age, fought her way out of the crowd of Huo family heirs, plus having had three wives who died, must be surrounded by bloodshed, swords, and shadows.
But in reality, other than the killer she encountered during their first meeting, she had not seen any dangerous people since.
Even the “van” that she had speculated about with apprehension the whole way turned out to be nothing more than ordinary paparazzi.
However, there was one thing she hadn’t guessed wrong—the tailing was indeed deliberate on Huo Yan’s part.
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Early the next morning, media in both the entertainment and business circles reported the same incident, with the headline of every edition featuring photos of them from different angles taken outside the beauty salon.
“President Huo.”
Jiang Feng called early in the morning. “A lot of reporters have gathered at the company entrance, and it’s estimated that more will come as public opinion ferments. Should we drive them away, or will you come to the company later and make a statement?”
Huo Yan sat on the sofa, holding her phone in one hand and stroking Mini’s fur with the other:
“Let them simmer. Build up the appetite, then hold the press conference.”
“Understood, I’ll take care of it.”
After hanging up, Jiang Feng repeated her words, but her little assistant Xu Panpan didn’t understand:
“Is this press conference the one to respond to the dating rumors, or is it our company’s new product launch for the couple’s necklace?”
Jiang Feng threw the newly printed schedule onto her desk, looking at her with the gaze one reserves for a rookie:
“The new product launch.”
Xu Panpan thought this was a mistake:
“But now the relationship has been photographed on the front page. If we don’t respond, what if the media writes carelessly and it affects sales?”
Jiang Feng, walking over in high heels, used the coffee cup in her hand to pin down the schedule, her eyes holding a trace of warning:
“We want them to write. The messier they write, the more attention they draw, the better. Only when the outside crowd has hyped up this topic will the traffic for the new product launch be maximized. Understand?”
Xu Panpan suddenly realized, closing her mouth which had been wide open like an egg, and exclaimed in admiration:
“Brilliant, truly brilliant…”
At the same time, Lan Su, in the center of the public opinion storm, opened her phone and experienced the first shock of the multimedia era. Overwhelming headline titles, continuously scrolling hot posts and popular comments, and the paparazzi’s candid photos of her and Huo Yan that day, all impacted her like senseless raindrops hitting a lake surface.
“The day after tomorrow’s press conference, wear this necklace.”
Receiving the necklace from Huo Yan’s hand, she finally understood why this person had deliberately let the paparazzi follow them.
After all, sacrificing her own marriage, putting up a three million wedding ring, plus time, resources, and money—the cost was comparable to a project worth hundreds of millions. When it came time for harvest, of course, they had to go all out and reap as much as possible.
No wonder this person always said that marriage was a transaction.
“This is the proposal.”
Huo Yan handed over a brown paper bag. “Including the character background, the design inspiration for the necklace, and the promotional slogan, take a look at it all.”
Lan Su took it, untied the string on the cover, and pulled out the dozen or so pages of documents.
“Okay.”
Her posture for looking at things was very strange; she liked to lean in very close. Her body was curled up on the sofa, her elbows tucked close to her sides, her knees together, her toes slightly lifted, resting the documents on her thighs, and her head bowed low, as if she wanted to shrink into a ball.
Huo Yan watched her, her eyebrows gradually furrowing into a slight frown, suspecting this person was an earthworm in her past life.
She later learned that this was a common habit in the antique industry—liking to put one’s face close to the object to clearly see the surface texture or even the fiber fuzz. First, to discern authenticity, and second, to determine the era.
Actually, there was another reason—no one had ever told Lan Su that her reading posture was strange.
No one had taught her.
She was an orphan.
Just as she was engrossed in studying the design inspiration for the necklace, Huo Yan’s voice suddenly came from above her head:
“Do you know how to read?”
Lan Su paused, letting the three words pass from her left ear to her right, and then from her right ear to her left, discerning a hint of insult in them.
She looked up: “Of course.”
But when those three words entered her left ear for the second time, she suddenly remembered her identity—a frail rich young lady who had been comatose since the age of 10 and become a vegetable.
Huo Yan nodded cooperatively and asked again: “How many grades did you finish?”
Lan Su replied: “Fifth grade.”
This was the truth. When the Lan family found her, she was nine years old and had just entered fifth grade.
Later, to train her as an assassin, the Lan family stopped her formal education. She only secretly studied online classes for a while and learned some English on her own.
“Aili.”
Huo Yan thoughtfully called the housekeeper, making the kindest decision of her life, “Go to the study and bring the Xinhua Dictionary.”
Lan Su gritted her teeth, wanting to say that she had been in the underworld for so many years; when had she ever needed a Xinhua Dictionary? It was just a meager proposal; why did she suddenly need a dictionary for it?
Her tongue couldn’t help but lick her back molar. She couldn’t expose herself, and she even had to smile:
“Thank you, you’re so thoughtful.”
Huo Yan fully accepted her thanks, a hint of playfulness surfacing on her cold face:
“We are legal spouses and partners; mutual help is necessary.”
So, Lan Su lowered her head to look at the documents again, having no choice but to take the old edition of the Xinhua Dictionary that Aili brought and pretend to look up rare characters.
The entire morning, Huo Yan was deeply immersed in the role of a “partner,” staying by Lan Su’s side in case she had doubts about any professional commercial term, which Huo Yan could then promptly answer.
This led to Lan Su having to play the part of a qualified partner, looking up characters in the dictionary by radical and stroke count whenever she encountered words a primary school student might not recognize.
And, of course, all of this was observed by the person next to her.
“This one is pronounced ‘yāo’.”
Seeing her look up the dictionary for such simple characters every time, Huo Yan felt a pang of pity.
Lan Su’s finger twitched. She cursed inwardly, then wrote the pinyin above the character with a pen:
“Thank you.”
The two hardest types of people to impersonate in the world: a lunatic; an illiterate person.
She was now being forced into the first type by playing the second.
“This one is pronounced ‘yùn’.”
“Thank you.”
“This is ‘yì’.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t recognize ‘qiào’ either?”
“…”
Xiao Lan, hiding in the kitchen, was laughing so hard her shoulders were shaking, her face flushed as she exposed the secret:
“Actually, Miss Lan can read.”
She told Aili mischievously: “She was reading last night, skimming through pages.”
Aili took it in stride: “Not necessarily. She’s been in a coma since she was 10 and hasn’t received an education, so it’s normal not to know many characters.”
“Prejudice.”
“Fact.”
“Tsk, why don’t you believe me, Boss? Why can’t a hero emerge from youth? Besides, what kind of family is the Lan family? Fifth grade, forget about Chinese characters, she speaks English like a nursery rhyme!”
Hearing her say this, Aili also felt there might be some truth to it. She crossed her arms, squeezing a few wrinkles into her black shirt:
“Then tell me, why is she pretending not to read?”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
Xiao Lan leaned against the kitchen doorway, staring eagerly at the living room, her eyes turning into bouncing peach hearts, full of pink bubbles:
“This is love~ Haven’t you seen how attentive President Huo is? This is called ‘one is willing to hit, the other is willing to be hit.’ One pretends not to recognize a word and wants to teach, and the other lets her be taught hand-in-hand. Wives’ fun, you should learn from it.”
Aili looked and looked, still failing to see the so-called love. But then again, President Huo was indeed rarely this attentive. Furthermore, Lan Su was the only spouse she was willing to register the marriage with. Could this girl Xiao Lan have accidentally stumbled upon the truth?