The Civil Affairs Bureau—this institution was very unfamiliar to Lan Su, like forcing a woodsman with an axe to pick up an embroidery needle.
Similarly, it was also unfamiliar to Huo Yan—even though she had been married three times.
“I say, CEO Huo.”
Outside the studio, Assistant Jiang Feng looked like he wanted to speak but hesitated. He finally opened his mouth:
“Actually, you don’t really have to get the certificate. Anyway, before, it was all just holding a wedding and putting on a show. As long as the people in the old house believe it and the people outside believe it, wouldn’t that be enough?”
Having followed Huo Yan for three years, Jiang Feng had learned her business philosophy—to obtain the greatest profit with the smallest cost.
Although he was usually quite talkative, he was very sharp and observant. Huo Yan had kept him on, promoting him from a junior follower to her specialized assistant.
When she said this, Lan Su had been taken inside by the stylist to change clothes, and only she and Huo Yan were left in the lounge.
Huo Yan was looking through this quarter’s performance report on her tablet. A lock of hair fell from her temple, and she tucked it behind her ear. Listening to Jiang Feng’s words, she didn’t lift her head:
“People nowadays are not easily fooled.”
Whether it was the netizens on the internet scrutinizing things under a magnifying glass, or the group of aggressive beasts in the Huo family, a slight carelessness could lead to a deep fall and losing everything.
“But, if you get the certificate, things will get complicated. Moreover,”
Jiang Feng lowered her voice, “Looking at Lan Haotian’s expression that day, Lan Su might not even be the second young lady. It seems the Lan family is hiding some secret, and this Lan Su might not have good intentions.”
Huo Yan dragged the document to the bottom, signed her name at the designated spot, and commented:
“I’m afraid she’s too kind.”
She wasn’t afraid of ghosts or evil spirits. If she had been born in ancient times, she would either have been an emperor who played with power or a corrupt official who held sway over the court. Calculation, framing, and harming—these things accompanied her throughout her childhood, and she had long grown used to them.
She wasn’t afraid of wicked people because she considered herself the greatest evil.
She only feared kindness, because there were no truly kind people in the world.
Clap.
The tablet screen went black. Huo Yan handed it to her and said coldly:
“Marriage is nothing but a transaction. I want to profit from it, and the Lan family wants the same. Whether it results in a win-win or a breakup, we’ll wait and see.”
Jiang Feng thought carefully and understood her meaning:
“I see.”
Take things one step at a time and see what secrets this mysterious Lan Su is hiding.
This was Lan Su’s second time having makeup applied and her second time seeing Huo Yan.
Because they were going to get the marriage certificate, the stylist changed her into a white shirt paired with dusty-rose wide-leg pants, giving her the reserved and elegant demeanor of a young woman from a prominent family.
Since the certificate only required one photo, doing specialized styling seemed a bit wasteful.
But Lan Su was working hard to change this notion. After all, in the antiques world, the Lan family’s status undoubtedly ranked in the top three. As the “Second Young Lady who finally awakened after years of slumber,” she was entitled to such fanfare.
Her soft, long hair fell behind her, and the wisps of hair in front of her forehead were fixed with hair gel, fluffy and smoothly parted to both sides, revealing her forehead and ears.
“My dear, are your ears really that small?”
The stylist was a bit surprised, staring at the thin, silver-ear-like flap. “They’re only half the size of mine!”
Lan Su looked at the mirror in surprise. Her hair before had been messy, covering her forehead, ears, and neck completely. She had never evaluated her looks nor realized that her ears were indeed, as the stylist said, seemingly only half the size of an ordinary person’s.
“I don’t look in the mirror much.”
She offered a reason that wouldn’t expose her identity.
The stylist immediately understood: “Oh, I know. I heard you were… ill when you were very young, right? You just woke up recently and haven’t had time to familiarize yourself with your body. That’s normal.”
The “illness” referred to the real second young lady, who, due to an accident at age nine, became a comatose, vegetative patient.
“Mhm.”
Lan Su nodded. She found that many times, if you didn’t explain everything and left a bit of ambiguity, others would naturally fill in the blanks themselves.
“All done!”
The stylist patted the back of her chair. “The makeup is finished! Take a look, are you satisfied?”
Lan Su looked at herself in the mirror—a pure white shirt, a dusty-rose jacket, long hair trailing down to her waist. A month ago, she was fighting for her life on the Russian border, and unexpectedly, she suddenly became a delicate wife.
And the harmless, innocent kind.
The stylist continued to introduce her work:
“I didn’t give you heavy makeup. Your features are inherently beautiful. Your eyebrows are delicate, and your nose bridge is narrow, so I went with light makeup. See, I didn’t even cover up that mole.”
Lan Su had a brown tear mole at the corner of her left eye, which added a touch of melancholy to her pure look.
She didn’t understand makeup, but light makeup was much closer to her usual state and felt more comfortable.
“Good, thank you.”
She paused and asked, “Is CEO Huo not wearing makeup?”
The stylist smiled and explained: “CEO Huo’s makeup and styling were done early this morning. She said she was coming to pick you up, so we went to her Fǔ (Mansion) early.”
Fǔ was a somewhat antiquated term.
The more common phrase would have been “went to her house.” But Lan Su didn’t find it strange because, like Huo Yan, she didn’t have the concept of a “home.” They would either say “Fǔ,” “Zhái Zi” (Residence), or “Fáng Zi” (House).
It seemed this stylist had been with Huo Yan for a while, as even their speaking habits were the same.
It happened to be a weekday, so there weren’t many people at the Civil Affairs Bureau. When it was Lan Su’s turn, they only waited in the lobby for three minutes.
Upon entering, the staff led them straight to the photography room, where they sat down in front of a large, bright red backdrop, facing the camera.
“A-yee~ Yes, look over here, both of you!”
The photographer was very enthusiastic, trying to use an upbeat tone to change the solemn expressions on their faces.
“Move a little closer, the young lady on the left, shift over a little!”
Huo Yan was sitting in a wheelchair, so Lan Su could only sit on a stool of the same height. Just now, Assistant Jiang Feng had placed the stool about 20 centimeters away, according to Huo Yan’s preference.
Move closer?
Lan Su hesitated. Huo Yan didn’t look like she liked being too close to people. She turned to look at the person next to her, whose side profile was like a sculpture carved with an axe and a knife—just one look felt cold.
“Should I move?” Lan Su asked.
Huo Yan took off her glasses but didn’t turn her head, looking straight ahead as usual.
“Move.”
So, Lan Su moved her stool next to the wheelchair. Following the composition of wedding photos in her memory, her upper body also leaned toward Huo Yan, their arms touching.
The instant they touched, the person’s arm stiffened, the muscle tensing.
Even through the fabric of two white shirts, Lan Su clearly felt the rigid musculature. It was an instinctive, physical vigilance against something suddenly approaching.
Lan Su was confused. She caught a glimpse of Huo Yan turning her head, so she also turned, meeting a face magnified by close distance.
The features were distinctly non-East Asian—boldly carved, three-dimensional, and even the brow bone was particularly aggressive. Dark eyebrows, a high nose bridge, and especially the eyes—which had been stripped of their lens filter for the photo—eyes like an ice snake.
Lan Su froze for a moment. She realized that this person possessed a dangerous kind of beauty—wild, compelling, vicious, and ruthless. It seemed as if this disabled body was just a skin, and if torn open abruptly, a beast would bolt out.
“Too close,” the beast told her.
“Oh.”
She obediently moved away and shifted the stool out by 10 centimeters. As she lowered her gaze, her raven-like eyelashes fluttered, creating a slight ripple.
“How about this?”
“Fine.”
Lan Su complied. There was no anger, no unease, yet no joy either. When facing the camera, her expression returned to normal, her eyes and face cold, devoid of any emotion.
The photographer sensed the subtle atmosphere between the two. In terms of eye contact, conversation, or facial expressions, these two were far too different from a couple in love. If you knew they were here to get married, you’d think they were here to sign a contract.
“Uh, it’s a bit too serious, you know.”
He suggested nervously:
“Come on, how about a little smile?”
So, Huo Yan subconsciously curved her lips slightly, and Lan Su rigidly tensed her lips.
Photographer: “…”
Five seconds later, he suggested again:
“How about you think about something happy?”
Lan Su: “I did.”
Huo Yan: “I haven’t.”
Photographer: “…”
And so, the photographer with eight years of experience took the most serious wedding photo of his career. Afterward, he watched the backs of the two women walk away, continually scratching the back of his head:
“Hiss, do good-looking people really not like to smile?”
Take this pair, for instance. They had the looks, they had the status, they had the looks. How wonderful would it have been to take a smiling photo?
Could it be…
…this was the legendary Ice Queen?
He mused privately, unaware that after the two Ice Queens finished the paperwork, Ice Queen Number One took out a ring from her bag and handed it to the other.
“I already have a ring.”
Lan Su explained, showing the band on her right hand. This was the “betrothal gift” Huo Yan had given her last month at the Lan residence.
Huo Yan pressed the new ring into her hand without question:
“That was an engagement ring. This is a wedding ring.”
“Engagement?” Lan Su was surprised. “When?”
Huo Yan originally wanted to say that last month at your house, when I pulled you up from the ground, that counted as a proposal.
But after the words passed through her mind, she felt they sounded a bit too impersonal, so she swallowed them back and opted for a more personalized approach—
She raised her hand, pulled the ring off Lan Su’s ring finger, held it up, and asked in a negotiating tone:
“Will you marry me?”
Her interpretation of personalization was to pull the ring off, put it back on, and add the line, “Will you marry me?”