The weather warmed as summer gradually arrived in Beijing.
It was a quiet, leisurely afternoon at the Ji residence. The only sound was the breeze rustling through rows of cherry blossom trees.
Suddenly, a flashy sapphire-blue sports car roared down the road, storm-like in its arrival. It screeched to a halt, blocking the gates of the Ji residence.
Ji Huai stepped out from the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. Removing his sunglasses, he lifted his gaze toward the house, narrowing his eyes.
A servant watering flowers at the gate heard the commotion, peeked out, and froze in shock. “Young… Young Master?”
Ji Huai strode forward, asking in a low voice: “Are they all here?”
“Yes, yes,” the servant stammered. “It’s the weekend—Sir is home resting, and the eldest young master came back from the company at noon.”
Hearing this, Ji Huai sneered, lips curling, and marched toward the main doors.
Inside, the house was quiet. Ji Chen had just woken from a midday nap and was descending the stairs with a folder in hand.
With a loud *bang*, the front door was violently pushed open. Against the sunlight, a tall figure stood, his ice-blue hair cropped short, making his sharp features even more striking.
Ji Chen glanced toward the door, then continued down the stairs as if nothing unusual had happened. He sneered lightly: “So you still remember where home is.”
As if recalling something, his lips curved faintly. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t come back without winning an award? What, did you win something recently?”
Ji Huai: “…”
Ji Chen walked toward the sofa, casually setting his folder on the table, then guessed aloud: “The Golden Broom Award?”
Ji Huai: “…”
No longer bothering with polite address, Ji Huai erupted like a lit fuse. “Ji Chen!” He rolled up his sleeves, towering over his brother, eyes blazing with fury. “Don’t joke with me. I came here for one thing only.”
“Why are you marrying Yingying off to that old fox Fu Jingshen so soon? Whose idea was it?”
Ji Chen flipped a page in his folder, then glanced at him coolly. “And if it was someone’s idea, what of it? Do you think you can change anything?”
Ji Huai clenched his jaw, his fists cracking. He drew a deep breath, then collapsed onto the sofa in defeat. “I don’t agree.” His eyes reddened, his voice hoarse. “Was it you and Dad—sacrificing her for Ji Corporation’s interests?”
Ji Chen snapped coldly: “What nonsense are you spouting?”
“Otherwise, how could it be? Yingying is only twenty!” His eyes and even the tip of his nose flushed red.
Ji Chen shut the folder. “What if I told you Yingying agreed herself?”
“I don’t believe it.” Ji Huai lowered his head, his face closed off in rejection. “I don’t agree. No matter what you say, I don’t agree.”
“It’s not for you to agree or disagree.” A deep voice suddenly came from the staircase. Ji Tianze descended, fastening his cufflinks, his cold gaze fixed on Ji Huai sitting cross-legged by the sofa.
At the sound, Ji Huai looked up. Father and son locked eyes, and Ji Huai’s whole body tensed instantly.
“What are you back for?” Ji Tianze’s face was indifferent.
Ji Huai gave a mocking laugh. “Certainly not to see you.”
Ji Tianze’s face darkened, and he pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
After three years apart, father and son met only to clash instantly. Ji Chen shot Ji Huai a warning look. “Say less.”
Ji Huai casually picked up his sunglasses and slipped them on, laughing bitterly. “The whole city knows about Yingying’s marriage, yet I was kept in the dark. When have you ever treated me as family?”
He gave a final cold laugh. “Then this house isn’t worth staying in.”
Ji Tianze seemed ignited by those words, his voice sharp. “Ji Huai, the Ji family owes you nothing. If you don’t want to stay, then leave! Yingying’s marriage has nothing to do with you.”
Ji Chen closed his eyes, feeling a splitting headache. His intention had been to draw Ji Huai back home, not to worsen the situation.
“Ah Huai…” Ji Chen began, but from the staircase came a clear, delighted voice—
“Second Brother!” Ji Ying stood at the landing, her black hair slightly tousled, her face still hazy from sleep. Her smile curved her eyes into crescents. “Second Brother, you’re finally home!”
In an instant, the tense atmosphere in the room dissolved.
Ji Huai’s fury vanished, his expression shifting awkwardly before he managed a smile and nodded. “Mm.”
Ji Tianze coughed lightly, suppressing his anger. In a heartbeat, he transformed back into the gentle father before his daughter.
Ji Ying ran down happily, throwing her arms around Ji Huai. She pouted up at him. “Second Brother, you’ve gotten thinner again.”
Looking at her face so close, Ji Huai’s anger melted away. But the thought of her marrying made his heart ache like bleeding. Such a good sister—how could she be handed over to that old man?
Ji Ying busied herself, calling for the servants to bring fruit and tea. She pulled her father and brother to sit, placing herself in the middle. “Come on, let’s eat fruit and chat together.”
Ji Chen sat opposite, watching the awkwardly paired father and son. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and his smile faded. This family could never do without Ji Ying. Fu Jingshen, that old fox, was far too lucky.
“Second Brother.” Ji Ying peeled grapes for Ji Huai, looking up. “Will you come the night after tomorrow?”
Ji Huai bit down on the grape, his tone gritted. “I’ll come. How could I not?”
Ji Ying sighed in relief. “That’s best. Otherwise, you’d have to wait until the wedding.”
Ji Huai: “…” His voice carried unrestrained sorrow. “Yingying, are you really going to marry him?”
“Second Brother.” Ji Ying spoke patiently. “Don’t hold prejudice against Third Brother. Once you try to get to know him, you’ll see he isn’t like people say…”
Ji Huai didn’t hear a word. His mind was consumed by one thought— It’s over. She really agreed willingly. Yingying had already been brainwashed by that old man.
Ji Huai sat uneasily in the Ji residence. Just the thought of her marrying made him want to hit something. He didn’t stay long. Rising to his feet, he said: “Yingying, I’ve got things tonight. I’ll head out first.”
“Ah?” Ji Ying looked disappointed. “Will you come home again, Second Brother?”
Ji Huai had already reached the door. His evasive gaze suddenly met his father’s sharp eyes—then quickly darted away. His palms broke into a sweat. Leaving only the words, “We’ll talk later,” he strode out.
Ji Ying stood where she was, turning back to look at her father, his head lowered, lips pressed tight. She blinked, disappointed.
Once in the car, Ji Huai immediately called Chen Zhong, his lips pressed thin. “Brother Chen, help me investigate someone.”
“Who?”
“The chairman of Fu Group, Fu Jingshen.” Ji Huai’s voice was cold. “Check if he has any scandals or ambiguous relationships. The more detailed, the better.”
“What?!” Chen Zhong sounded baffled. “Master, you’re not joking, are you? Investigate Fu Jingshen? Do you want me blacklisted in Beijing?”
Ji Huai knew Chen Zhong was well-connected—there was nothing he couldn’t find out. He snapped impatiently: “Are you checking or not? If not, I’ll start acting arrogant right now.”
Chen Zhong: “…”
Heaven knew how many times Young Master Ji had already trended negatively for his bad temper, impossible to suppress.
“Fine, fine, I’ll check.” Chen Zhong prepared to dig lightly.
Ji Huai waited alone in his apartment from dusk until nightfall, until Chen Zhong finally called back.
“How is it?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing at all.”
Ji Huai: ?
“Impossible. I don’t believe a twenty-six-year-old man has no gossip whatsoever!”
Chen Zhong sighed helplessly. “Master, I asked everywhere and found nothing. Wherever Third Master Fu goes, not even a female mosquito dares approach. How could he possibly deceive you?”
“No scandals means there’s an even bigger problem!” Ji Huai suddenly stood. “A man in his late twenties with no women, and then within a month he rushes to marry my sister—you think that’s normal?”
The other end fell silent. An answer hovered unspoken between them.
Thinking of Ji Ying’s completely brainwashed look, Ji Huai ground out his conclusion word by word:
“This—”
“A sham marriage. He’s gay.”
Two days later, at the Beijing International Hotel.
The Fu family had booked the entire second floor, with preparations beginning early that morning.
That day, Old Master Fu personally oversaw everything. Fu Jingshen’s aunt, Fu Pei, even traveled from Shanghai to supervise, and the elusive Fu Yuan also made an appearance.
Ji Ying wore a red qipao, her black hair pinned up, skin white as snow, lips crimson as rouge. The coolness she usually carried was softened, her brows and eyes radiant and bright.
When Fu Jingshen saw her, she was adjusting the bun at the back of her head, struggling with something. Her brows furrowed, teeth lightly biting her lip.
With an hour left before the banquet, relatives and friends were busy greeting guests, no one noticing her small predicament.
Fu Jingshen stepped forward, lowering his head slightly, leaning close to her delicate snow-white nape, and whispered: “Stuck?”
Ji Ying turned her head. “Third Brother.” She pointed at the hairpin tangled in her bun, helpless. “This one’s caught in my hair.”
Fu Jingshen lowered his gaze, noticing the silver hairpin in Ji Ying’s dark hair, studded with tiny diamonds—no wonder it easily caught strands.
“Want me to help?”
Ji Ying: “Do you know how?”
Fu Jingshen’s fingertips brushed lightly over the pin. His voice was low: “If I take it apart once, I’ll know.”
With that, he guided Ji Ying a little backward, opened a door, and the two slipped discreetly into an empty private room.
Ji Ying sat pressed against the sofa, Fu Jingshen standing behind her.
The man leaned close, his crisp scent surrounding her.
Ji Ying’s lashes trembled; she silently clenched her fingers. She was already familiar with his presence.
Fu Jingshen slowly, carefully removed the pin. In an instant, Ji Ying’s long, straight black hair cascaded down her back, its fragrance filling the air.
“Is that the scent of cherry blossoms?” Fu Jingshen murmured near her nape, his breath spilling behind her ear, sending a shiver through her.
Ji Ying’s ears flushed hot red. It was only her shampoo that smelled of cherry blossoms, but he deliberately twisted the meaning.
Trying to stay calm, Ji Ying explained: “It’s just the shampoo.”
“Is it?” Fu Jingshen leaned closer again, chuckling softly. “I thought it was your own fragrance.”
Ji Ying couldn’t answer either way, growing a little annoyed. “Third Brother!”
“Mm.” Fu Jingshen replied, suppressing a laugh, his long fingers slowly combing through her hair.
He seemed intent, smoothing from root to tip, letting the soft strands curl around his hand.
Ji Ying’s heartbeat quickened. “Third Brother, are you… combing my hair?”
Fu Jingshen didn’t deny it. Instead, he asked suddenly: “Have you heard of the bridal hair-combing ritual?”
“Hmm?” Ji Ying thought for a moment. “Yes, I’ve heard of it.”
His fingers returned to the crown of her head, combing downward as he intoned softly: “One comb, from beginning to end.” Then his hand lifted from the tips back to the crown, repeating the motion.
“Two combs, together until white hair.”
Ji Ying’s heart skipped, her lashes trembling.
For the third time, his fingers smoothed from crown to tip. Just before he spoke, Ji Ying lifted her eyes to meet his deep gaze, and instinctively continued: “Three combs, children and grandchildren filling the hall.”