Jiang Zhi’s voice was sincere and gentle, without the slightest hesitation.
The moment she spoke, she felt the air around them grow colder by several degrees.
The man said nothing. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his deep eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing the meaning behind her words.
In her three years as an agent, Jiang Zhi had weathered many storms, but the man before her carried an oppressive presence that made her involuntarily tense.
Second by second, time ticked by. A thin layer of sweat had already formed on Jiang Zhi’s palms.
This was a negotiation—whoever spoke first lost.
Jiang Zhi’s beautiful fox-like eyes met the man’s deep gaze directly, struggling to suppress the urge to look away.
After a moment, the man was the first to withdraw his gaze, leaning back casually in his office chair.
The cigarette between his fingers had burned more than halfway. He leaned forward to place the marriage agreement back on the desk, then unhurriedly tapped the ash into the ashtray.
He lifted his eyelids to glance at her and uttered two words, “Your terms.”
The advantage of conversing with an intelligent man was that he could see through your intentions at a single glance.
The atmosphere was too oppressive.
Jiang Zhi only wanted to end the conversation as soon as possible. She took a deep breath. “Save my uncle’s company.”
As she spoke, she opened her phone, pulled up the news about the Qin family, and handed it to the man.
Without even looking at it, he took a deep drag of his cigarette, smoke curling around his lips. “Done.”
Jiang Zhi’s eyes lit up. She was still thinking about how to draft the agreement when she failed to notice the glint of amusement that flashed beneath the man’s lenses.
Just as she was about to speak, the man’s next words choked off the carefully prepared speech in her throat.
Shang Chi crushed the cigarette in his hand against the ashtray with force. “On one condition—you marry me.”
Jiang Zhi: “??”
Jiang Zhi thought she must have misheard. “What?”
Shang Chi picked up the marriage agreement again, his thumb rubbing over Jiang Zhi’s name on the paper, and said slowly, word by word, “I want you.”
Jiang Zhi was so stunned by those three words that she couldn’t speak for a moment.
Still, she had self-awareness, knowing her own worth.
She had no connection whatsoever with Shang Chi. For him to suddenly say such things, there must be something he stood to gain behind it.
Jiang Zhi composed herself. “May I ask why?”
Shang Chi set the agreement down, his thumb idly turning the silver ring on his index finger.
It was a long while before he spoke, his voice deep and indifferent. “My grandfather only recognizes you. Now you just need to answer ‘yes’ or ‘no.'”
His words were forceful, leaving her no room to retreat.
Jiang Zhi bit her lip. After a moment of inner struggle, she still agreed. “Alright, I accept.”
She had no way out.
If she refused, her uncle’s company would have no path but death.
Shang Chi’s thumb paused briefly. A dark glint flashed behind his lenses, and the corner of his mouth curved into a faint arc—half amused, half serious. “I don’t accept a marriage of convenience.”
Jiang Zhi’s brow furrowed slightly as she scoured her mind for information about Shang Chi.
Suddenly she remembered that in his interview on Fanqie TV, the man seemed to have a White Moonlight who had rejected him.
And the marriage agreement clearly stated in black and white that before the man turned thirty, he could not marry anyone other than her as his wife.
Could it be that his White Moonlight rejected him because of this marriage agreement?
According to the plot in novels, when the male lead is forced to marry a female second lead he doesn’t love, shouldn’t he remain chaste for the female lead?
What did he mean by making such a request now—giving up because love was unattainable?
Before she could figure it out, the man’s deep, warm voice pierced her ears. “Can’t accept it?”
The man’s mind was too unfathomable. Jiang Zhi admitted she couldn’t read him.
Jiang Zhi snapped back to reality, letting out a bitter laugh inwardly, and answered, “I can.”
She simply had no other choice.
Photos, signatures, vows.
From the civil affairs bureau back to the car, Jiang Zhi was still in a daze.
She had fantasized countless times about the scene of getting her marriage certificate with Jiang Qinian.
But she never imagined that at this moment, she would be holding this little red book with a stranger.
Her emotions were complicated—absurd and beyond words.
“Regret it?” The man’s cold, low voice came through, seemingly tinged with a hint of displeasure.
Jiang Zhi’s fingertips, clutching the red booklet, turned slightly pale. She spoke truthfully. “No. It just doesn’t feel real yet.”
Shang Chi gave her a faint glance, reached out with his long arm, took the red booklet from her hand, and tucked it into his suit pocket. “It’s just a certificate.”
Jiang Zhi watched the red completely disappear into the black pocket, then withdrew her gaze and hummed in acknowledgment.
Looking at her now-empty hands, it was indeed as the man had said—just a certificate.
Her life wouldn’t change. She was still Jiang Zhi.
However, she had forgotten that the moment she signed her name, she had been crowned with the title of “Mrs. Shang.”
The car drove steadily along. The narrow cabin was filled with the man’s unique, icy presence.
Sensing the unfamiliar scent, Jiang Zhi felt somewhat uneasy.
Perhaps because this was the man’s territory, he seemed completely at ease, leisurely handling the documents in his hand.
In the quiet space, only the rustling of pages being turned and the scratching of a pen against paper could be heard.
At the thought of something, Jiang Zhi turned her head to look at Shang Chi and asked, “Where are we going now?”
The man’s profile was sharply defined and cold, with black hair falling above the gold-rimmed glasses. His eyelids were slightly lowered, making it hard to read his expression.
Without lifting his head, his voice was distant and cool, sparing with words. “Home.”
Seeing the man’s impatient expression, Jiang Zhi didn’t overthink it, assuming he meant his own home. She propped her chin on her hand and watched the scenery recede outside the window, falling silent.
The two of them said nothing the entire way.
Throughout the ride, Jiang Zhi kept having the illusion that there was a burning gaze fixed on her from beside her.
But every time she followed that gaze, all she saw was the man completely absorbed in handling documents, his expression indifferent and unfathomable.
There wasn’t the slightest hint of him stealing glances at her.
It made her seem like the one enchanted by his looks, sneaking peeks at him like some lovestruck fool.
Sure enough, the next second, he swept a glance at her and said in a flat, unruffled voice, “If you want to look, look openly. I’ll allow you to commit the crime with a license.”
Jiang Zhi was speechless.
She wanted to argue, but lacked the confidence.
All she could say was, “It’s not what you think.”
Her voice was soft and gentle, not loud, like a spring breeze brushing over water, leaving no trace behind.
Shang Chi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes dimming slightly.
The black Rolls-Royce pulled to a stop beside a villa in Qihayuan.
Qihayuan was the most expensive and renowned villa district in Jingshi, reserved exclusively for the upper echelons of society—a high-end property that money alone couldn’t necessarily buy.
Shang Chi produced a key card and a black card from somewhere and handed them to Jiang Zhi.
The man’s long, deep-set eyes looked through his lenses directly into the woman’s fox-like eyes, his voice indifferent. “I’m going on a business trip for a week. The place is rather empty. I hope that when I come back, it looks like a ‘home.'”
Jiang Zhi was dazed for a moment, taking several seconds to process his words. Could it be that the man’s “home” from earlier meant their home?
Wasn’t he being a little too natural about it?
Anyone would think he’d had this planned all along.
Jiang Zhi immediately dismissed the absurd thought. The man’s words now were too overbearing and impersonal.
For someone as wealthy as him, with properties everywhere, he’d simply picked one at random to serve as their new home.
Perhaps because she hadn’t spoken, the man spoke again. “Hmm?”
Just a single syllable, yet it carried an unmistakable air of finality.
Jiang Zhi took the key card and black card from the man’s slender fingertips and replied with a simple “Okay.”
Watching the black Rolls-Royce drive off into the distance, Jiang Zhi finally let out the tension in her nerves.
She walked to the villa’s front door with the key card, and with a “beep,” pushed the door open.
When she saw what was inside, her fox-like eyes went wide with shock.