◎ The Marriage Certificate ◎
The black car slowly threaded its way through the traffic. Inside sat two people who looked united on the surface yet distant at heart. The roar of the engine and the noise outside were shut away by the glass windows, leaving the car so quiet that they could hear each other’s breathing.
So close, in fact, that the frantic thump-thump of a nervous heartbeat was clear—though neither could tell whose heart it was.
Song Qingxu turned her face toward the window. The scenery on both sides of the road flowed past her eyes without leaving a trace. The heavy, rhythmic pounding that filled the air brushed across her heart like a passing breeze.
Breath mingled with heartbeat, weaving into a strange new rhythm. Though the two didn’t speak, there was an unexpected harmony between them.
After getting out of the car, Yuan Lai held Song Qingxu’s hand as they walked side by side. Because Yuan Jingyun was following behind, Song Qingxu didn’t pull away, letting Yuan Lai clasp her hand the whole way.
On both sides of the road, plane trees basked in the sunlight, shaking their emerald leaves as though standing guard outside the hall of matrimony—day after day, year after year, welcoming new couples as they arrived.
And so Yuan Lai and Song Qingxu, these “newlyweds,” walked step by step beneath the shade of the trees, heading toward the hall of happiness.
On weekdays, there were few couples at the Civil Affairs Bureau. The staff yawned, counting the hours until they could go home.
In recent years, fewer and fewer people were choosing marriage. The work had grown idler with time.
Xiao Yu, one of the clerks, was absentmindedly fiddling with her fingers when, at last, a pair of newlyweds walked through the empty bureau.
The glass doors slid open. Yuan Lai glanced sideways at the person next to her, unable to stop the smile tugging at her lips as she stepped inside.
It wasn’t often that Xiao Yu saw a couple this stunning. Her eyes lit up, and she gave them extra attention as she guided them through the process.
“Do you have your IDs with you?”
“Yes, yes.”
Behind them, Wang Ma handed over the neatly prepared documents.
The joy on Yuan Lai’s face could no longer be concealed—it shone as warmly as the spring sun, spilling over to warm the woman at her side.
“Do you have two-inch half-body photos with a red background?” the clerk asked.
“No…” Getting the marriage certificate had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, so Yuan Lai hadn’t prepared photos in advance. She was just about to ask if they had time to take some now when the clerk added:
“We have a self-service photo booth here. You can take them on the spot.”
After filling out forms and completing the premarital checkup, Yuan Lai stood before the machine, excitement written all over her face. She stole a glance at Song Qingxu beside her and cleared her throat.
“Let’s take the photo.”
Song Qingxu lowered her eyes to the crisp white shirt she was wearing—fresh clothes Wang Ma had sent after the show. Yuan Lai was also in white, though in a different style.
The red backdrop behind the machine was so bright it almost stung the eyes. That same red climbed up Yuan Lai’s ears, making Song Qingxu feel as if this moment wasn’t quite real.
Was she truly about to get a marriage certificate with Yuan Lai?
Yuan Lai circled to her left side. Seeing her dazed, she tugged gently at the sleeve of her shirt, pulling her back in front of the booth.
The left side—where the heart beats closest. A private, selfish little wish: to claim a place in Song Qingxu’s heart.
“Let’s take the photo.”
Yuan Lai repeated it once more, tireless.
“…Alright,” Song Qingxu replied.
They sat down before the machine. Their faces appeared on-screen, the vivid red behind them painting a blush across their cheeks—like shy newlyweds caught in a tender moment.
But the framing was too small. The narrow rectangle couldn’t capture them both properly; seated too far apart, only half of each face showed.
“We need to be closer.”
Yuan Lai edged nearer. Now she filled most of the frame, while Song Qingxu remained only half visible.
Reluctantly, Song Qingxu leaned closer too. Once, then again, until her whole upper body fit into view. Their arms pressed together, fabric brushing fabric, and through the thin white shirts she could feel the warmth radiating from Yuan Lai—fervent and burning.
Just like her.
In the lens, Song Qingxu almost looked unlike herself, her expression softened by a touch of gentleness. Yuan Lai’s change was even more striking—her smile so wide it nearly turned into laughter, eyes narrowing to slits, showing far more than the polite eight teeth.
She tried to rein it in, not to grin too wildly.
Song Qingxu, unable to help herself, curved her lips into a small, genuine smile—different from the professional ones she wore in public. A hint of warmth glowed in her usually cool eyes.
Quick as lightning, Yuan Lai pressed the confirmation button, capturing that moment forever.
“Beautiful!”
Whether Yuan Lai meant the photo or the woman beside her, it was hard to say.
Turning her head, she asked eagerly, “Do you think this one’s alright? I really like it, but I want your opinion.”
Seeing her so happy, Song Qingxu simply nodded. “Let’s use it.”
And so the machine did what it did best—turning a pair of “contract newlyweds” into lovers who seemed bound together by love.
Within a minute, the booth spat out their intimate photo. Yuan Lai picked it up with both hands, gazing at it as though it was a priceless treasure.
Their first official photo together. She’d make copies later, and keep them safe.
She felt a pang of regret that only one picture would go on the marriage certificate. She wanted more—so many more with Song Qingxu.
Clutching the photo, reluctant to let go, she left the booth. Reluctant too, because walking away meant stepping out of that moment with Song Qingxu.
Just then, the photographer Yuan Jingyun had arranged finally arrived. From a distance, the camera was already aimed at them.
Out of habit, the photographer called instructions:
“Could you stand a little closer?”
Yuan Lai obediently moved nearer again, close enough to brush against Song Qingxu just as in the booth.
“Perfect. Now, a bit more intimate.”
“Yes, that’s it. Smile for me.”
Yuan Jingyun watched from behind, smiling faintly at the sight of the two.
The photographer clicked away. Each photo came out flawless, no retouching needed. She’d shot many couples before, but never one so dazzling.
“You can carry on as normal now,” the photographer said, camera still in hand. “I’ll just capture candid moments.”
Understanding, Yuan Lai ignored her presence, showing the freshly printed photo to her mother.
“Mother, look!”
Yuan Jingyun’s eyes curved into a smile. “It’s very good.”
Wang Ma bustled over, a big bag of wedding candies in hand, happily scooping handfuls to share with the photographer and said,
“Here, take some. Share the joy.”
Wherever Yuan Lai and Song Qingxu went, Wang Ma’s candies followed. Staff who received them beamed from ear to ear, as though they’d truly caught a little of the good fortune.
Before the bureau closed, Yuan Lai had completed all the steps. At last, she held two brand-new marriage certificates in her hands.
“I want to see them too,” Yuan Jingyun said.
But Yuan Lai, unwilling to part with them for even a moment, brushed her off: “I’ll show you when we get home.”
She couldn’t stop admiring them, leafing through the certificates again and again in the car, that radiant eight-toothed grin back on her face.
Then, suddenly struck by an idea, her smile dimmed a fraction. She placed the two certificates side by side, snapped a picture with her phone, and posted it.
She’d even registered a brand-new social media account for the occasion. She couldn’t wait until they got home—the world had to know.
It was rush hour, with plenty of people online. Out of nowhere, a throwaway account shot to the top of the feed.
【This has to be fake.】
【Isn’t that Song Qingxu and her assistant?】
【That marriage certificate is Photoshopped.】
【Wait—what, they got married?】
【Obvious throwaway account. Click in and it’s empty except for this one post.】
【The username is shamelessly direct: “Song Qingxu Is My Wife.”】
【Didn’t people just gossip that she was having an affair with her assistant? Since when did it become legal marriage?】
【So the assistant joined the variety show just to chase her wife?】
【Am I the only one wondering—were they colleagues first, or married first?】
【Does it even matter?】
【If colleagues first, then it’s a slow-burn workplace romance. If marriage came first, then it’s the classic “chasing your wife” story.】
【More, more—I’d read either!】
【But seriously, why would Song Qingxu marry her assistant?】
【She may be a film queen now, but marrying someone with nothing to their name?】
【Her spouse can’t give her any career resources.】
【Maybe they’ll provide… emotional value.】
Even the people at Weizhi Culture saw the post. The comments were filled with disbelief, but in truth—they didn’t dare doubt it.
The president of Weizhi Culture slumped into his executive chair, utterly stunned. The light from the projector screen still flickered, displaying an enlarged marriage certificate photo of Yuan Lai.
“We’re finished. This time, we’re really finished!”
It seemed the entertainment company, Weizhi Culture, would be ruined in his hands.
“There has to be a way out. There must be a way out…”
The staff member in the middle of giving a progress report trailed off, helplessly glancing at his boss—who looked as if he was possessed—then turned toward his colleague for support.
But his colleague was too busy sneaking a look at his phone to notice his silent plea.
Meanwhile, the other higher-ups who knew the inside story had already started polishing their résumés and preparing to job hunt, while those left in the dark could only gape at the boss’s near-delirious state.
They worried for the company’s future, unaware that the company no longer had a future.
The president’s special assistant stepped forward to ask what was going on, but his sharp eyes caught sight of the phone screen just before it dimmed.
“What! Song Qingxu and Yuan—”
The normally composed assistant actually cracked his voice in shock. Realizing he was still in the middle of a meeting, he immediately cut himself off, swallowing the rest of his horror.
But as the president muttered “We’re finished, we’re finished” again and again, the assistant seemed to be infected by the despair and unconsciously joined in. Their overlapping voices filled the entire conference room with a chorus of doom.
“What’s finished?”
Another executive who also knew the truth murmured under his breath, echoing the same refrain: “Finished, finished…”
Some began to speculate: “Have they all gone mad at once?”
Someone else tried to steady the situation: “Let’s postpone this report. I’ll take these two to the hospital first. Maybe the company’s been hexed—or the feng shui is bad.”
At the mention of feng shui, another person immediately jumped in to tattle: “Yesterday I saw Xiao Liu from marketing pouring boiling water onto the fortune tree! He must be an undercover agent from a rival company!”
________________________________________
Yuan Lai’s account followed only one person—Song Qingxu. After posting the photo, she immediately went offline.
The comments online weren’t as important as the person sitting right beside her.
Yuan Lai raised her eyes, gaze landing on the woman in white—Song Qingxu. Her expression was calm and unreadable.
Was she truly happy, just as Yuan Lai was, or had she simply agreed out of respect for her mother’s final wish? Yuan Lai had no idea. But either way, it didn’t change the fact that Song Qingxu was now her lawful wife.
“You…”
Her lips parted before her mind had decided on the words.
“I…”
Song Qingxu spoke at the same time.
Yuan Lai quickly closed her mouth, gesturing for her to go ahead. “You first.”
“After the show ended, I got a call from my agent. She said someone terminated my contract with the company on my behalf?”
In truth, Ge He’s original words had been far harsher—half threat, half insult.
“Don’t think you can escape me just because you left the company. I have plenty of ways to ruin you, to make you regret this. You think just because you’ve grown a little bolder you can fly beyond my grasp? Dream on!”
“Today, I’ll destroy your reputation and see if anyone dares to hire you again.”
“If it wasn’t for me, Song Qingxu, you’d be nothing! And now you strut around pretending to be above it all? Who do you think you’re fooling?”
…
To save her ears further torment, Song Qingxu had decisively hung up the call.
As for the one who had terminated her contract, she could only think of the person sitting before her.
Yuan Lai admitted it outright. “Your old company was sucking you dry to support new talents. I couldn’t stand watching it. The new company only has one artist—you.”
“Why… why only one artist?” Song Qingxu asked.
Yuan Lai blurted, “Because the company was created for you. Every resource belongs to you. You’ll never have to worry about being sidelined for some rookie.”
Her voice grew heated as she went on: “Your old company was disgusting—treating you like a cash cow, while giving you nothing but pointless, exhausting jobs.”
“But now, you don’t need to worry. From here on, if you don’t want a job, you don’t take it. Just focus on acting. Focus on yourself.”
She handed over a document. “This is Yan Linda, your new agent. You can call her Sister Linda. She’s very professional—you can go to her whenever you need help.”
Song Qingxu lowered her eyes, her mind replaying Yuan Lai’s indignant defense of her. It felt strange—was this Yuan Lai’s true nature?
Too much had happened in a single day, leaving her still in a daze.
“Tha… thank you.”
Her gratitude was sincere. Without Yuan Lai’s help, she would never have escaped the old company so easily. Though she didn’t understand why Yuan Lai was suddenly helping her, she still meant her thanks.
Her voice wasn’t loud, but Yuan Lai had been watching her intently. The moment she spoke, Yuan Lai perked up, listening as if it was the most important thing in the world.
“What’s there to thank me for?” Yuan Lai waved it off carelessly. “We’re family now. This is what I should do.”
F… family?
Song Qingxu stared out the car window at the endless stream of traffic, pondering the weight of those words.
Were they really a family?
Her mind drifted back to Yuan Lai’s earlier question: Can we start over?
Part of her believed Yuan Lai had only agreed to the marriage out of obligation to her mother’s wish. But another part of her wondered if maybe, just maybe, starting over might lead to a different ending.
The sharp chime of a ringtone broke the silence. Yuan Lai glanced at the caller ID—Linda—and hung up without hesitation. She didn’t want to mention the old company in front of Song Qingxu, didn’t want to remind her of pain.
Instead, she switched to texting:
Yuan Lai: Not convenient to talk right now. Let’s use messages.
She just wanted to enjoy this time alone with Song Qingxu. The automatic divider rose, sealing them into a private space.
Linda: I found out—the smear campaign came from Song Qingxu’s former agent. The goal is to ruin her reputation.
Yuan Lai: Just a post-autumn grasshopper—won’t last long. Handle it however you see fit. They should’ve known this day would come when they dared to bully Song Qingxu.
She added another line: And take care of that parasitic company too. I don’t want them crawling out to cause trouble again.
Linda: Understood.
Song Qingxu might be soft-tempered, but Yuan Lai wasn’t. She had already given Weizhi Culture a chance. Instead of behaving, they’d pushed further.
This time, she wouldn’t show mercy.
Thinking of the marriage photo that had just circulated, Linda thoughtfully asked: Do you want me to buy you a trending spot?
Yuan Lai had already been itching to show the world that Song Qingxu was her wife. With her subordinate hitting the nail on the head, she immediately agreed.
Just one will do—not too many.
She was married now. It was her responsibility to support the family. She couldn’t spend recklessly anymore—she needed to save money for her wife.
Once the PR matters were handled, Linda moved on to planning Song Qingxu’s career.
Linda: Director Wang is casting for a new film. If you’re interested, you can audition. His scripts and teams are highly regarded.
Yuan Lai: Good. Send me the time and place, I’ll ask her.
In the past, whenever Yuan Lai chatted animatedly with others—even bringing them in front of her—Song Qingxu had been able to ignore it without so much as a flicker.
But today, watching her fingers fly over the screen, typing rapid replies, for the first time, Song Qingxu found the sight a little unpleasant.
The car pulled smoothly into the Yuan family estate.
Not wanting to see it anymore, Song Qingxu simply opened the door and got out.
Yuan Lai looked up from her phone to find her wife already walking away. She scrambled out after her. “Why are you walking so fast?”
“I’m hungry,” Song Qingxu improvised.
Yuan Lai took it at face value. “True. You hardly ate during the survival show. Tonight, let’s feast.”