She stood there, looking at Shen Junyan, her lips moving slightly as if wanting to say something.
But she said nothing.
She turned and walked out.
Lu Heng was waiting at the door and led her downstairs.
Inside the elevator, it was just the two of them. Lu Heng stood slightly behind her, silent. The elevator walls were stainless steel, polished to a mirror-like shine. Gu Ziyao saw her own reflection—her expression was calm, too calm for someone who had just signed a “marriage contract.”
The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened.
“Take care, Miss Gu,” Lu Heng said with a slight bow.
Gu Ziyao stepped out of the Shen Group building and stood on the entrance steps.
The sunlight was intense, making it hard for her to keep her eyes open. She raised a hand to shield them, peering through her fingers at the blinding white light reflected off the glass curtain wall of the office building across the street.
She stood there for a long time.
A security guard approached and asked if she needed help hailing a taxi. She shook her head and declined.
Then she descended the steps, walked to the roadside, and flagged down a taxi.
She gave the hospital address, then leaned back in the seat and gazed out the window.
The car passed street after street, stopping at one traffic light after another.
On the sidewalks outside, there were young mothers pushing strollers, elderly people walking their dogs, and delivery riders on shared bicycles.
Every face held an expression—some were smiling, some were frowning, others were expressionless but their eyes held something alive, vivid, and warm.
Gu Ziyao watched them and felt as if she and they existed in different worlds.
In her world, there were no expressions, no warmth—only three clauses and a three-year deadline.
The taxi stopped at the hospital entrance.
She paid and got out.
When she pushed open the door to the hospital room, her grandfather was asleep.
She walked over and sat by the bed, looking at his face. He seemed even older in sleep, the wrinkles on his face carved like knife marks, each one deep and pronounced.
She took his hand in hers. It was cold, bony, and the skin was loose.
“Grandfather,” she whispered, “the Shen family agreed.”
Her grandfather didn’t wake.
She sat there, holding his hand, watching as the sky outside gradually darkened.
The evening sun streamed through the window, casting light on the white hospital sheets, on her grandfather’s pale face, and on her hand clasping his fingers.
Suddenly, she remembered a time from her childhood when her grandfather had taken her to the City God Temple. She had ridden on his shoulders, holding a stick of candied hawthorn. The syrup had dripped onto his hair, and he had laughed, saying, “Little girl, you’ve glued Grandpa’s hair together.”
Back then, she thought her grandfather was the tallest person in the world. Riding on his shoulders, she felt she could see the whole world.
Now, her grandfather lay here, unable even to turn over without help.
Time was merciless.
It had turned a mountain into a handful of dust.
Gu Ziyao buried her face in her grandfather’s palm, and finally, tears fell.
She cried quietly, without a sound, only tears dropping one by one into his palm, dampening the deepest crease.
Her grandfather’s fingers twitched, as if sensing something in his sleep, and curled slightly, holding her hand.
Three days later, at the Civil Affairs Bureau.
Gu Ziyao arrived at 9:40.
She was twenty minutes early.
Not because she wanted to be early, but because she couldn’t bear staying at home.
A white blouse and a dark-colored skirt.
She looked at herself in the mirror and felt she didn’t look like someone about to get married.
She looked like someone heading to a job interview.
She checked her documents three times—ID card, household registration booklet.
The Civil Affairs Bureau opened at nine. She arrived at nine forty and sat in the lobby for a while.
There were other people in the lobby handling business—some there to get marriage certificates, sitting together in pairs. Some held hands, some leaned against each other while looking at their phones, some whispered softly, smiles on their faces.
She sat alone in a corner, clutching that bag of documents, feeling like an outsider.
At nine fifty-eight, Shen Junyan arrived.
He walked in through the entrance, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and a dark gray tie neatly knotted. His leather shoes were polished to a shine, making soft sounds as they tapped against the terrazzo floor.
When he walked in, a few people in the lobby glanced up at him.
He was indeed eye-catching. At 188 centimeters tall, he stood out wherever he went.
And then there was his face—pale skin, sharp features—standing among a crowd of ordinary people like a knife thrust into a pile of cotton.
But he seemed accustomed to being stared at. He scanned the lobby expressionlessly, his gaze lingering on Gu Ziyao for a moment before shifting away.
He didn’t walk over.
He stood by the entrance, took out his phone and glanced at it, then looked up toward the other side.
Gu Ziyao stood up and walked toward him.
After a few steps, Shen Junyan’s assistant, Lu Heng, approached from the side and positioned himself between her and Shen Junyan.
“Miss Gu, this way, please.” Lu Heng gestured, indicating she should head toward the service hall.
Shen Junyan was already walking ahead.
He didn’t wait for her, didn’t look back, didn’t even slow his pace.
Gu Ziyao followed behind, three or four steps away.
Lu Heng walked beside her, matching her pace—neither too close nor too far, ensuring she didn’t feel neglected but also not giving the impression they were together.
The service hall wasn’t crowded. Shen Junyan had clearly made arrangements in advance, as a dedicated staff member received them. The process went smoothly—
When it was time to sign, Gu Ziyao picked up the pen and wrote her name in the “bride’s signature” column. Her handwriting was neat, stroke by stroke, as serious as if she were taking an exam.
When Shen Junyan signed, he gripped the pen tightly, his knuckles turning white. His handwriting was sharp and hurried, the three characters written in a wild, sweeping style. The final stroke dragged on, as if venting something—or perhaps it was just habit.
When the steel seal was pressed down, it made a dull “thud.”
At that moment, Gu Ziyao’s heart skipped a beat.
She looked down at the deep red marriage certificate in her hand, the cover stamped with a gilded national emblem and the words “Marriage Certificate.”
Opening it, inside was a photo of her and Shen Junyan, sitting shoulder to shoulder with a faint, almost imperceptible gap between them. Her lips curved slightly upward, while his were pressed into a tight line.
Beside the photo were their names, printed side by side. There was no “and,” no “with”—just two names, one on the left, one on the right, like two separate individuals loosely tied together by an invisible thread.
Gu Ziyao looked at the marriage certificate, feeling no joy, no excitement, not even nervousness.
Only an indescribable heaviness.
Like a stone pressing on the chest—not too large, but positioned just above the heart, its presence felt with every breath.
“The formalities are complete,” the staff member said with a smile. “Congratulations to both of you.”
Shen Junyan had already stood up.
He did not look at Gu Ziyao, nor at the marriage certificate, not even at the staff member. He tucked his own copy of the certificate into his suit pocket and turned to leave.
The sound of leather shoes tapping rhythmically against the terrazzo floor grew fainter and fainter.