The Fiancé
March, the Jiang residence.
Jiang Zhuoye felt that he was quite possibly the unluckiest person in the entire world.
Especially when he stood by the window on the second floor and saw his so-called fiancé, Bo Yun, step out of the car below.
At that moment, even the sound of the fountain outside seemed unbearably noisy. The gardenias in the courtyard were far too fragrant, drifting in thick clusters through the air—so overpowering it made him irritated.
His younger cousin stood beside him, craning her neck to look down.
She had just returned from abroad and paid little attention to local news. Although she knew her dear cousin had been engaged since childhood, she had never properly seen Bo Yun’s face—only that her cousin loathed the man deeply.
Now, after all his attempts to avoid it, Jiang Zhuoye still hadn’t escaped the misfortune of having to marry him.
Her curiosity was at its peak.
With some sympathy, she thought: Well, even if this Bo Yun turns out fat and unattractive while my cousin looks like a blooming flower—then no matter the consequences, I’ll support him breaking off the engagement…
But before she could finish the thought, she saw Bo Yun step out from behind the car door.
At first, only a hand rested on the edge of the door.
That hand was pale and long-fingered—the unmistakable hand of a beautiful person. Against the black car, it looked like white jade.
Bo Yun had his back to them. Even with just a silhouette, his figure was striking—a perfect suit frame. A narrow but solid waist, broad shoulders, legs absurdly long, his proportions flawless.
That half-hidden view only stirred curiosity and imagination even more.
The cousin unconsciously leaned forward again and muttered, “He doesn’t look ugly at all…”
And when Bo Yun finally turned in the sunlight, revealing his face, she let out an embarrassingly unrefined gasp.
“Holy crap—he’s that handsome?”
Jiang Zhuoye had always spoken terribly of Bo Yun, claiming he looked ordinary and was rotten on the inside—a bastard you couldn’t find even with a lantern.
But seeing him in person now, she could say with certainty that her cousin had been spreading slander.
Bo Yun had an aggressively beautiful face—cool, pale skin, a high nose, thin lips, phoenix-shaped eyes with perfectly upturned corners. His hair was slightly long, naturally wavy, falling smoothly to his shoulders.
Perhaps the sunlight was too bright. He narrowed his eyes slightly, long lashes lowering like butterfly wings stirring a small storm.
He walked up the steps and exchanged pleasantries with Jiang Zhuoye’s older brother. From this distance, they couldn’t hear what was said—only saw Bo Yun curve his lips faintly.
The cousin’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. She couldn’t look away and sighed sincerely, “You’re seriously blessed, cousin.”
She was completely dazzled by Bo Yun’s looks.
Even more handsome than the boy-group visual she’d been obsessing over lately—especially the aura. A domineering CEO aura was nothing like a pretty boy.
She exclaimed a few more times before punching Jiang Zhuoye lightly. “You’re unbelievable. You complain to me all the time, acting like you’re about to hang yourself, saying Bo Yun is ugly and mean. I actually believed you.”
“Heh.”
Jiang Zhuoye knew it. Shao Yunli was the kind of woman who defected the moment she saw a handsome face—utterly shameless.
“Typical shallow thinking,” he scoffed. “What’s the use of being handsome? Bo Yun’s only redeeming feature is his face. His personality is trash. You’re just easily fooled.”
He had never met anyone more cutting, cold, and arrogant than Bo Yun. When his tongue turned venomous, even licking it would poison you.
He’d hated him since childhood. Once, he’d secretly put bitter herbs into Bo Yun’s mint water and got caught on the spot—ending up grounded for an entire afternoon and forced to apologize with a fake, obedient smile.
And yet he had a marriage contract with this person for over a decade—and now it was time to fulfill it.
It made him want to die.
He raised his eyes and saw his own reflection in the window—a pale face tight with resentment, brows furrowed, every line screaming rejection.
“And besides,” Jiang Zhuoye snapped, “how is this not a loss for me? Who the hell gets married at twenty—to a twenty-eight-year-old man? Even saying it out loud is embarrassing. Anyone who knows I’m in City A would think I’m from some backward mountain village.”
He hadn’t even graduated college yet.
Hearing this, his cousin finally stopped baring her teeth and patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“Yeah, twenty is pretty early,” she said gloomily. “But look on the bright side—apparently getting married in college earns extra credits.”
Before she finished speaking, Jiang Zhuoye kicked at her, but she dodged quickly.
“Alright, alright,” she laughed. “Once the rice is cooked, there’s no point struggling. Honestly, if you don’t want him, give him to me. I’d happily marry a guy like that.”
Jiang Zhuoye sneered. “You’re that eager, huh? My brother said the same thing yesterday.”
“What?!”
The cousin’s expression turned horrified.
She knew her other cousin, Jiang Xu—a towering 187 cm businessman known for valuing money over people, sharp as a viper in negotiations.
But she never imagined he’d be this self-sacrificing.
Before she could ask more, a soft knock sounded at the door.
A maid asked gently whether she could enter.
After receiving permission, she opened the door carefully and said respectfully, “Young Master, Second Miss, Mr. Bo has arrived. Sir requests that you come downstairs now.”
He’s here.
Jiang Zhuoye’s heart thudded heavily, his expression darkening.
He didn’t want to go down—but as his cousin said, there was no escaping it now.
So he nodded. “Alright. Got it.”
…..
Jiang Zhuoye descended the stairs unwillingly—every step heavy.
When he reached the living room, the first thing he saw was his fiancé in name only.
Several people were standing inside. Outside the arched floor-to-ceiling windows were lush green plants, sunlight filtering through the patterned glass, turning soft and hazy.
Bo Yun stood by the window in a perfectly tailored black suit. Even standing casually, with only a slender profile visible, he drew the eye.
A clivia plant beside him was in full bloom, its faint green hue climbing softly along the side of his face.
Even though Jiang Zhuoye despised this man, his gaze still lingered for a few seconds.
Then he forcibly looked away.
“Zhuoye and Lili are down,” Jiang Xu spotted them and waved. “Come over.”
Jiang Zhuoye pretended not to hear and walked straight to the sofa.
Passing by his brother and Bo Yun, he shot Bo Yun a brief, mocking glance, lips curling with disdain, then sat down without a word.
His cousin followed, sticking her tongue out at Jiang Xu.
“That kid…” Jiang Xu froze, then laughed helplessly. He turned to Bo Yun apologetically—though clearly without much effort. “Sorry about that. He has a bit of a temper, but he’s a good kid. You’ll have to take care of him in the future.”
He’d spent days wearing himself down just to get Jiang Zhuoye to agree to this marriage.
Seeing his brother’s sour expression now, Jiang Xu didn’t dare provoke him further.
Bo Yun didn’t even glance toward Jiang Zhuoye. His voice was perfunctory. “Of course.”
Jiang Zhuoye nearly laughed out loud.
Listen to that. Anyone who didn’t know better would think Bo Yun was deeply in love.
He shot him a look of pure disdain.
Just then, Bo Yun turned slightly in his direction, and their eyes met unexpectedly.
Jiang Zhuoye froze, then silently mouthed:
“Liar.”
Bo Yun understood. Looking down at him from above, and taking advantage of the moment when Jiang Xu turned away to speak with the butler, he replied with his own silent words.
“Childish brat.”
After saying that, he turned his head back and continued discussing the cooperative projects between the two families with Jiang Xu, never sparing Jiang Zhuoye another glance.
Which thoroughly infuriated Jiang Zhuoye.
…..
For the rest of the afternoon, Jiang Zhuoye kept a dark expression on his face—including during afternoon tea.
Bo Yun’s visit that day was to discuss their marriage. Because of this, Jiang Zhuoye’s parents had specially flown back from Singapore to meet Bo Yun together.
His younger cousin, having already had her fill of drama, had found an excuse and left earlier.
Now, only Jiang Zhuoye’s closest relatives remained at the table, chatting cheerfully with Bo Yun. The atmosphere was warm and harmonious.
Ironically, Jiang Zhuoye—the person most directly involved—was left out.
He speared a grape with a small fork, but having no appetite, put it back down.
This engagement of his with Bo Yun was absurd when you thought about it—pure feudal superstition.
When Bo Yun was born, his health had been poor. A serious illness nearly sent him to meet the King of the Underworld. At eight years old, he suffered another accident, falling off a cliff and landing in the ICU again. Misfortune clung to him like a curse.
So Bo Yun’s grandfather took him to a so-called feng shui master.
After careful calculations, the master declared that Bo Yun’s birth chart was unusual and his fate turbulent, especially before the age of thirty. To counter this, he needed an exceptionally compatible birth chart to “bring joy and suppress misfortune.”
Bo Yun’s grandfather believed this wholeheartedly and earnestly asked where such a person could be found.
The master pinched his fingers, divined, and said the person was nearby.
And on that very day, Jiang Zhuoye was born at Dexin Hospital—his birth time matching the written birth chart exactly.
Seven jin and eight liang—fat as could be.
So two days later, Bo Yun’s grandfather brought Bo Yun to the Jiang family’s door.
Jiang Zhuoye, a baby barely three days old—and a boy, at that—became Bo Yun’s “fiancée” just like that.
The master said that as long as the engagement lasted until Bo Yun turned thirty, it would suffice.
After that, even if the marriage was dissolved, Bo Yun would at most suffer minor illnesses or mishaps, nothing that would affect the bigger picture.
But ideally, binding the two together for life would be the safest option.
Strangely enough, after the engagement was made, Bo Yun’s health really did improve. After adolescence, he could even be called physically strong.
In college, Bo Yun excelled at all kinds of sports—surfing, tennis—hardly encountering any major misfortune again. Though he still kept long hair at his grandfather’s insistence, anyone could see he had grown into a handsome, upright man.
Bo Yun’s grandfather became even more convinced of the master’s words.
When the master later said that actual marriage was even more effective than engagement, without hesitation, the old man once again pushed his grandson to the Jiang family’s door, lavishly “proposing” for Jiang Zhuoye.
Thinking of this made Jiang Zhuoye want to roll his eyes.
If that so-called master hadn’t disappeared into seclusion, he would’ve hunted him down and smashed his signboard, just to see which fraud was behind all this.
What era was this? Could people please believe in science?
Bo Yun’s improved health was obviously due to exercise and natural development—what the hell did it have to do with superstition?
And yet Bo Yun’s grandfather, sharp all his life, had gone muddle-headed in old age.
And took it seriously.
Jiang Zhuoye shot a glance at Bo Yun sitting opposite him, feeling even angrier.
He’d known about this engagement since childhood. At first, he hadn’t taken it seriously—he’d even been a little curious about Bo Yun.
Bo Yun had been good-looking as a teenager. Because of the master’s words, he kept his long hair—clean and neat, skin overly fair, wearing a plain school uniform. He was even sometimes mistaken for a girl.
At least, Jiang Zhuoye had mistaken him once.
Even after his parents corrected him, he still lingered around Bo Yun, always wanting to touch him. Hearing that this person was his “fiancée,” he generously shared his snacks.
But Bo Yun didn’t like him.
Fourteen-year-old Bo Yun had looked at him coldly and told him, in a lowered voice, to go away.
Jiang Zhuoye had unwrapped snacks for him, but Bo Yun only frowned in disgust and casually tossed the milk candy onto the fruit plate.
“Stay away from me. You’re loud,” Bo Yun had said.
Six-year-old Jiang Zhuoye’s heart had shattered into eight pieces.
Remembering that distant memory, Jiang Zhuoye’s lips tightened unhappily.
He glanced at Bo Yun again.
This man was no longer the aloof, world-despising fourteen-year-old from back then.
At twenty-eight, Bo Yun had become refined and composed. When he didn’t smile, he was still as cold as before—but if he wished, he could make people feel like they were bathed in spring sunlight, speaking tactfully and handling everything with care.
Just like now.
After finishing a discussion with Jiang Xu about investing in a port, he smoothly turned to discussing the wedding schedule and details with Jiang Zhuoye’s parents.
Though it was merely a transaction of interests, Bo Yun sought the Jiang family’s opinion on everything, fully putting on a show of sincerity. He even knew that Jiang Zhuoye liked lily of the valley, hydrangeas, and lilies, but felt lukewarm about roses.
“As for the wedding design, just let the designer discuss it with Zhuoye,” Bo Yun said with a light smile. “I don’t have any special preferences. I’ll leave everything entirely to Zhuoye.”
Zhuoye.
Such an intimate way of addressing him.
It made Jiang Zhuoye want to throw up.
Disgusting. What an act.
Bo Yun treated everyone politely and with restraint, yet never took Jiang Zhuoye seriously—regarding him as a kid. He was cold, sarcastic, and privately as nasty as could be.
And Jiang Zhuoye hated him too. Especially after puberty—whenever they met in public, he’d provoke him at every turn.
Everyone familiar with them knew they were utterly incompatible and should never be placed together.
But because of Bo Yun’s words, everyone else at the long table turned to look at Jiang Zhuoye.
His mother’s eyes sparkled—clearly charmed by Bo Yun. She’d nearly forgotten this was an arranged marriage and seemed genuinely excited about planning it.
Jiang Zhuoye could only force a stiff smile.
“Whatever. Don’t worry about me. I’ll remember to show up,” he said. “As for everything else, you can decide.”
Resentment simmered in his chest. When he set down his coffee spoon, his movement was unconsciously heavy. The silver spoon clinked softly against the porcelain plate.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it felt like a reminder of his dissatisfaction.
He took a sip of coffee, lowered his eyes, and said nothing—clearly having no intention of participating in the discussion.
“This child…” Liang Jie said helplessly, smiling apologetically at Bo Yun. “Sorry about that. Zhuoye didn’t rest well yesterday, so he’s a bit low on energy today and not in the mood to talk.”
Bo Yun knew perfectly well that this was a lie.
When Jiang Zhuoye had come downstairs earlier, he’d nearly burnt him alive with his eyes.
But Bo Yun didn’t mind.
This wedding was just a formality anyway. He didn’t take it seriously.
He smiled at Liang Jie. “That’s my fault. I came too early and disturbed his afternoon nap.”
Then he glanced down at his watch—it was already 3:30 p.m. He still had another meeting.
Bo Yun looked up and glanced at his secretary. Receiving the cue, the secretary stepped forward and softly reminded him of his next appointment.
“Got it,” Bo Yun said.
He turned to Jiang Xu and said quietly, “Sorry, I have a meeting shortly and will have to leave first. We can discuss the South Port project in more detail later. If you have no objections to the terms and the prenuptial agreement I mentioned earlier, I’d like to spend some time alone with Zhuoye. Have the lawyer go through the agreement with him again carefully. If he has no objections, we’ll sign it.”
Jiang Xu immediately expressed his understanding. What Bo Yun had revealed earlier left him very satisfied.
The Bo family was clearly willing to make repeated concessions for this marriage—their sincerity was costly.
He called over his own lawyer and gave a few instructions. The lawyer nodded and went to invite Jiang Zhuoye to the small study.
Though Jiang Zhuoye had kept his eyes lowered, every word at the table had entered his ears without missing a beat.
Hearing that Bo Yun wanted to be alone with him, a trace of mockery surfaced in his eyes.
He stood up without hesitation.
“Sure,” he said, looking down at Bo Yun from above with thinly veiled sarcasm. “Let’s go, fiancé.”
The moment that title was spoken, expressions around the table shifted. Jiang Xu was especially shocked, frantically blinking at Jiang Zhuoye, afraid this was a sign his brother was about to explode and beat Bo Yun senseless in the study.
Bo Yun, on the other hand, was remarkably calm.
He looked up at Jiang Zhuoye for a few seconds before rising unhurriedly.
“Alright,” he said softly.