Fang Xihe nearly bit her tongue.
“Ge-get the marriage certificate?”
On the other end, Shang Chenzhou said, “You accepted my proposal.”
“I did, but you didn’t say we’d register today.”
There was a pause on his side.
“Since we’re getting married anyway, early or late—it’s all the same.”
Fang Xihe wanted to say something more.
Shang Chenzhou added, “Are you regretting it?”
“I’m not.”
Fang Xihe truly wasn’t regretting it.
It was just moving too fast for her to adjust.
She raised a hand and scratched her hair.
Forget it.
She already agreed—sooner or later, they’d have to register.
If Shang Chenzhou wanted to do it today, then today it was.
Once they became legally married, when he wanted to be with the female lead in the future, it would cost him even more money.
Divorce was far more complicated than a breakup.
“Wait ten minutes. I’ll change clothes.”
She hung up.
Fang Xihe got up, washed up, and changed into a white knit dress with a shirt collar, putting on a black down jacket over it.
She could take off the jacket for photos later.
She braided her long black hair into a fishtail braid and put on light makeup.
Then she took out her phone to request half a day off from her boss.
The original host majored in English, with average grades, and after graduation worked in a foreign trade company selling tools, dealing with overseas clients.
Her major was the same. Back in university, she had obtained a TEM-8 certificate and participated in multiple English and translation competitions, winning numerous awards.
She had also minored in computer science.
Before transmigrating, she worked at a major internet company—high salary, but extremely intense.
She died suddenly from overwork.
And then transmigrated into the chasing-wife novel she had just read.
After some nagging, her manager finally approved her half-day leave.
Fang Xihe found her ID card, grabbed her phone, and went downstairs.
As she stepped out of the building, she spotted Shang Chenzhou standing under a tree at a glance.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, upright figure.
A white shirt paired with black trousers, with a black down jacket over it.
Simple, yet clean and pleasing to the eye.
As Fang Xihe approached, she could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on him—jasmine.
Shang Chenzhou looked at her deeply.
“Let’s go.”
He was still holding the cloth bag she left at his place last night.
Fang Xihe reached out. “Give it to me.”
“I’ll carry it for you,” he said.
Fang Xihe raised an eyebrow.
Hehe, now someone was carrying her bag when she went out.
The two walked out of the residential area.
Shang Chenzhou raised his hand and hailed a taxi.
After they got in—
“To the Civil Affairs Bureau,” he told the driver.
The driver was a chatty middle-aged man.
Smiling, he asked, “Going to register your marriage?”
Shang Chenzhou replied calmly, “Mm.”
“Congratulations! Today’s a good day.”
“Thank you.”
He turned to glance at Fang Xihe.
Afraid he might misunderstand that she was unwilling or regretting, Fang Xihe grinned at him.
“Do I look good today?”
Shang Chenzhou pressed his lips together and nodded. “You look good.”
“And you look very handsome today.”
Fang Xihe thought that since she would only get married once, she had to look nice.
After divorcing Shang Chenzhou, she didn’t plan to marry again.
Even before transmigrating, marriage was never part of her life plan.
Now that she had transmigrated, experiencing it once wasn’t bad.
Shang Chenzhou stared at her for a moment, the corners of his lips slightly lifting.
Soon, they arrived at the Civil Affairs Bureau.
The two got out and walked in together.
They came early, so there was barely any queue. Soon, they each held a red marriage certificate.
Looking at the wedding photo, Fang Xihe saw a handsome man and a beautiful woman.
But there was one flaw.
“Shang Chenzhou, you didn’t smile.”
He was about to speak—
Fang Xihe waved her hand. “Forget it. With a face as handsome as yours, I won’t argue with you.”
She put the certificate into her bag.
Her stomach suddenly growled.
Fang Xihe glanced at him awkwardly.
She left in a hurry and hadn’t eaten breakfast.
Shang Chenzhou took her hand.
“Let’s go eat.”
Her body stiffened as she stared at their joined hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning to her.
Fang Xihe shook her head.
My idol is holding my hand! My idol is holding my hand!
There was no food near the Civil Affairs Bureau, so they walked two blocks and found a breakfast shop in an alley.
After going in, Shang Chenzhou ordered two bowls of wontons and two crispy pastries.
After sitting down—
He took out tissues and wiped the table in front of Fang Xihe.
The small table was greasy, turning the tissue black.
He used two more tissues before it was clean, then wiped his own side.
The owner called out—the wontons were ready and had to be picked up.
The shop only had one person working and was too busy.
Shang Chenzhou got up to get the wontons.
Fang Xihe followed, intending to carry hers.
He turned to her. “Sit. I’ll bring it.”
“It’s too hot—you can’t carry both alone.”
Fang Xihe had been independent since childhood and didn’t like troubling others.
Her principle: do it yourself, and you’ll have everything you need.
Shang Chenzhou turned, pushed her back into her seat, and said firmly, “Sit.”
Fang Xihe: “…”
She watched his tall figure walk to the counter, carrying a bowl in each hand.
Heh, the male lead really does pamper his girlfriend—oh, wife now.
They were married after all.
But his kindness to her, the ex-girlfriend, was only temporary—controlled by the plot. Once he met the female lead, he would fall for her and end up happily together with her.
But now that she had replaced the original host, the plot had changed—who knew how things would develop when he met the female lead?
Would there still be a “chasing-wife crematorium” arc?
“What are you thinking about?”
Shang Chenzhou’s voice pulled her back.
He handed her a pair of disposable chopsticks. “Eat.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to get the pastries.
Fang Xihe noticed that his bowl had cilantro, while hers didn’t.
She liked cilantro too.
So she got up to take some.
When Shang Chenzhou turned back and saw her scooping cilantro into a small dish, he looked puzzled.
Fang Xihe returned, poured the cilantro into her wontons, and inhaled happily.
Wontons tasted best with cilantro.
“Didn’t you dislike cilantro?” Shang Chenzhou asked.
Fang Xihe froze mid-bite.
The original host didn’t eat cilantro?
Her mind spun, recalling that indeed, the original host disliked it.
Uh oh—how to explain this change?
After thinking for a while and failing to come up with anything—
Forget it. There was no way Shang Chenzhou would guess that the soul inside this body had changed.
“I hadn’t tried it before, so I didn’t know it tasted good. Recently I gave it a try, and it’s actually not bad.”
Whether he believed it or not—so be it.
Shang Chenzhou recalled something his college roommate once said: women are fickle.
He didn’t dwell on it and lowered his head to eat.
Fang Xihe only finished the wontons and didn’t eat the pastries—she was too full.
Shang Chenzhou finished both pastries.
After leaving the shop—
Shang Chenzhou said, “There’s still time. I’ll help you move your things.”