Engagement Photos
Jiang Zhuoye still didn’t know he’d been sold out by his own brother yet again.
He was still at a gathering at a friend’s place, sprawled smugly on a lounge chair by the pool.
A pair of sunglasses sat on his face, though not properly worn—perched up in his hair instead, revealing a smooth forehead.
His childhood friend Fang Chen was sitting beside him. Fang Chen had already seen that Weibo post and was now rereading it, unable to help laughing.
“Jiang Zhuoye, you really are something… Bo Yun is probably furious.”
Petty. Jealous.
Those words had nothing to do with Bo Yun no matter how you thought about it. And Bo Yun, as the chairman of Boyue Group, being labeled like that—it didn’t really hurt him, but it was definitely something people would joke about.
With Bo Yun’s stiff, overly composed personality, he was probably livid.
“He’s definitely holding a grudge against you now,” Fang Chen said with a chuckle.
“Let him,” Jiang Zhuoye said carelessly, even finding it amusing. “Isn’t this your fault? You guys insisted the other day that when Bo Yun and I stand together, I look more like the delicate little wife. I don’t buy it. I’m this handsome—Bo Yun’s the one who looks like a pretty boy. Why shouldn’t he be the one marrying into my family?”
Those words hit straight on his sore spot.
Especially when Fang Chen, of all people, pointed out that although he was already 181 cm tall, Bo Yun was 189 cm, with a broader frame. Slim in clothes, muscular without them, trained in mixed martial arts. Despite having a face that was almost too pretty, he clearly looked far more capable in a fight.
Jiang Zhuoye was instantly displeased.
And if he was displeased, then naturally Bo Yun had to be displeased too.
Perfect timing—his brother called, telling him to post a more formal clarification on Weibo. Say it was just a friends’ gathering, and casually reveal that he already had a marriage engagement, to cooperate with the upcoming PR drafts.
Jiang Zhuoye laughed as soon as he heard it and readily agreed, lazily replying, “Sure.”
Then he immediately posted that Weibo.
Perfect, he thought. He knew the post was eye-catching, but harmless. After all, he really did have an engagement with Bo Yun.
At worst, Bo Yun would just get teased a bit by business partners.
But Jiang Zhuoye was perfectly happy to disgust Bo Yun.
He put his phone down, got up from the lounge chair, and stepped into the water.
His upper body was bare, pale as if glowing. His muscles were firm and beautiful, just a thin layer—not exaggerated. Water droplets rolled over them, down to his narrow waist and abdomen, sparkling like scattered diamonds in the sunlight.
Without warning, he scooped up a handful of water and splashed it straight at another childhood friend who was watching the fun—Liang Fei.
“You guys stop standing around enjoying this,” he cursed. “I haven’t even settled accounts with you yet. This whole mess started because of you—dragging me out to sea, bringing strangers along. That influencer wasn’t even brought by me, she was brought by Gu Qiangyun. And look what happened, you dug me into a hole. Honestly, do you even know I’m about to get married? Ruining my innocence at a time like this—was it on purpose?”
As he spoke, he splashed water at the others too.
Everyone burst out laughing.
Precisely because Jiang Zhuoye was about to step into the grave of marriage—and with that annoying Bo Yun, no less—the group of childhood friends had been dragging him out constantly, trying to help him relax and offering their own brand of consolation.
But hearing “I’m about to get married” come out of Jiang Zhuoye’s own mouth just felt… weird.
“Jiang Zhuoye, just stop talking,” Fang Chen shouted. “I seriously can’t accept that you’re getting married. My god, Bo Yun’s eight years older than you—is it even legal for him to marry you? Child trafficking, honestly.”
Jiang Zhuoye immediately splashed him. “You’re the child. And why does it have to be Bo Yun marrying me? Me marrying him makes way more sense.”
Another round of laughter erupted.
Gu Qiangyun, who’d just been named, also begged for mercy, clasping his hands at Jiang Zhuoye. “My bad. I didn’t know this would happen. That influencer was a friend my girlfriend had just met—we weren’t close at all. They’d only gotten closer recently. We happened to run into each other that day, and she wanted to come along with my girlfriend. You know my girl—soft-hearted, embarrassed to say no. I apologize to you.”
That trending topic was clearly deliberate.
The photo angles even looked preselected. The influencer’s popularity had been declining lately, and she wanted to stir up some buzz, but couldn’t choose someone too low-profile or it would backfire. After weighing her options, Jiang Zhuoye—handsome, top-tier family background, previously viral online—was an easy target.
But the Jiang family’s legal team wasn’t for show. It only took a little effort to make the influencer back down and obediently release a statement.
Jiang Zhuoye waved a hand, signaling it was fine. He knew Gu Qiangyun’s girlfriend—sweet, adorable, and probably at home right now reflecting on her poor choice of friends.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “Tell Xie Ying not to take it to heart. We’ll hang out together again some other day.”
Gu Qiangyun nodded. “Alright.”
They messed around in the pool for a while longer, and when dusk fell, they all climbed out and started an outdoor barbecue.
The chef had everything prepared, but they didn’t want to be served, so they did it themselves.
Mostly Gu Qiangyun and Fang Chen handled it. The two had studied abroad in the UK. Despite having chefs at their beck and call, they’d somehow developed real cooking skills.
Jiang Zhuoye draped a towel over himself, completely unwilling to touch anything, yet still pointing and giving orders.
“Don’t overcook the short ribs—I want them tender. Are the shrimp done yet? I want one.”
Fang Chen was honestly itching to fling the brush at his face.
But he shot Jiang Zhuoye a look anyway and handed him a skewer of lemon butter chicken first. “Here. Eat this. The others aren’t ready yet.”
Jiang Zhuoye didn’t mind and took it, eating as he went.
He sat cross-legged on the sofa, tossing the towel aside. The skewer hung from his mouth as he pulled on a loose, light gray shirt.
His hair had been dyed back to black—not as flashy anymore, making him look obedient, even a little young. Dressed in such plain colors, he looked very much like a high school student again.
He took out his phone and glanced at it, surprised. “Huh, my fiancé just called me earlier. I missed it.”
On the screen, the contact name clearly read: “Bastard.”
That was how he’d saved Bo Yun.
He instinctively wanted to call back, but then thought—what good could come from Bo Yun calling him? He immediately felt at ease and tucked the phone back under a cushion.
Gu Qiangyun, sitting beside him, noticed the whole sequence of actions. He didn’t say anything at first, but after a while, he looked at Jiang Zhuoye again, seeming lost in thought.
Jiang Zhuoye caught his gaze and looked back, puzzled. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
Gu Qiangyun turned the Australian lobster on the grill, still wearing that contemplative expression. “Nothing. I just suddenly thought of a question.”
He looked straight at Jiang Zhuoye, a hint of recollection on his face. “Zhuoye, you’re about to become a married man, but if I remember correctly, you’ve never dated anyone, right? So… do you actually like men or women?”
The moment he said that, the air fell strangely quiet for a few seconds.
All eyes snapped toward Jiang Zhuoye at once. There was still a small piece of lemon leaf stuck to the corner of Jiang Zhuoye’s lips. Caught off guard by Gu Qiangyun’s question, he froze for a moment.
Among this group of childhood friends, Jiang Zhuoye wasn’t particularly old. The youngest was Si Heng, eighteen, who wasn’t there that day because of something else. That left Jiang Zhuoye as the next youngest.
Yet even Si Heng had experienced a pure, innocent school romance, while Jiang Zhuoye had remained completely clean—single all the way to now.
“That’s true,” Fang Chen chimed in, looking at Jiang Zhuoye with a laugh. “Out of all of us, you’re the one living like a monk. Back then I tried to introduce girls to you and you didn’t want any. And when some younger boys at school pursued you, you were scared stiff and didn’t even know how to reject them. Now look at you—no dating at all, and you get directly packaged up and sent to Bo Yun.”
Jiang Zhuoye grabbed a tennis ball from the ground and threw it at him. “Screw you.”
But Gu Qiangyun had really hit on a question that was hard for him to answer.
Up to the age of twenty, Jiang Zhuoye’s emotional history was indeed completely blank. He had plenty of experience being pursued, but none whatsoever pursuing others.
On the other hand, he was extremely competent at being a relationship bodyguard for his friends.
When Gu Qiangyun was dating, Jiang Zhuoye went with him to pick dresses for Xie Ying.
When Fang Chen was pursuing a guy, Jiang Zhuoye stood watch for him.
When Liang Fei got heartbroken, Jiang Zhuoye drank with him until they were both drunk.
Even little brat Si Heng had dragged him along for courage when confessing to the cool older girl at his desk.
But when it came to himself…
Jiang Zhuoye lowered his eyes. For some reason, he felt a brief moment of discomfort, as if he had been dragged back to a rooftop on some night, hiding in a corner, using the light to read a letter in his hands, his heart pounding wildly.
He snapped out of it quickly, feeling inexplicably irritated. “How would I know whether I like men or women? To me it’s all about the same—both are annoying. No one’s ever made my heart flutter, and I don’t think dating is interesting anyway.”
He shrugged, looking completely indifferent, truly carefree.
He let out a scoffing laugh and turned to Fang Chen beside him. “You guys though—one after another—why are you all so obsessed with my private life? How about this: I think Fang Chen’s looks aren’t bad. Let him make a contribution tonight and come serve me in bed.”
As he spoke, he lightly teased Fang Chen’s chin.
“Get lost. You think you’re worthy of me?” Fang Chen hurled a cushion at him.
The two of them started wrestling childishly on the sofa.
Fang Chen couldn’t beat Jiang Zhuoye and was pinned down, his neck grabbed from behind, being forced to admit defeat.
“Not a chance,” Fang Chen stubbornly replied. Even while losing, he had to get a few words in. “You want me to serve you? Jiang Zhuoye, let me tell you—someone like you, whose love life is cleaner than boiled water, a clueless little virgin with zero experience, is the easiest to fool. Get tricked once and you’ll fall head over heels. You’d better watch out—one day you’ll end up in the hands of some seasoned love expert and get played like a spinning top.”
“Who are you cursing?” Jiang Zhuoye smacked him again. “As if I’d fall for anyone who waves a finger at me. And keep talking and I’ll make sure your family line ends.”
The two were still roughhousing, while the others didn’t step in at all, just watching and laughing until their stomachs hurt.
Amid all the noise, Jiang Zhuoye’s phone rang again.
He looked down, and Fang Chen seized the chance to shove him off and scramble free.
“You bastard—”
Caught off guard, Jiang Zhuoye was flipped back onto the sofa. He kicked Fang Chen once more.
He took out his phone and looked. This time it wasn’t his bastard fiancé—it was his brother.
For some reason, Jiang Zhuoye felt a bad premonition, his brow twitching.
He hesitated for two seconds, then raised his hand to signal the others to quiet down and answered the call.
“Hello, ge?”
“What? Magazine cover, engagement photos? Me and Bo Yun?”
“What kind of photos could the two of us possibly take? I’d be lucky not to strangle him.”
Hearing the keywords, the other friends quieted even more, all turning to look.
They watched as Jiang Zhuoye’s expression grew increasingly grim, questioning the person on the other end. “Is this in the contract too? Isn’t it just getting married? Why so many fancy extras? And a vlog? What kind of sweet daily life could he and I possibly have? Aren’t you afraid we’ll start fighting on camera?”
“It’s all because of the mess you caused,” Jiang Xu replied coolly. “Who told you to post that Weibo? Now the entire internet is curious about who your fiancé is—there are all kinds of wild guesses. Have you even looked at the chaos under your comments? You’ve already sent over this massive wave of traffic. If we hide it, someone with ulterior motives might use it again and stir up new scandals. It’s better to have you and Bo Yun announce things early.”
At the mention of that Weibo post, Jiang Zhuoye paused for a second, feeling a little less righteous.
He was about to argue back, but Jiang Xu continued calmly, “Alright, stop bargaining with me. This is your own mess, I’m not cleaning it up for you. You go cooperate. It’s just taking photos. Bo Yun doesn’t mind—what are you minding for?”
With that, he hung up, not giving Jiang Zhuoye any chance to drag it out.
To hell with it.
Jiang Zhuoye flung his phone down; it bounced once on the sofa.
Seeing all his friends staring at him curiously, he said darkly, “What are you looking at? Never seen someone get forced into engagement photos before?”
“No, can’t say I have,” Fang Chen poked him. “What does this mean—are you and Bo Yun going to be featured in a magazine? Couple photos?”
Jiang Zhuoye shot him a death glare, but thinking it over, this really was something he’d brought on himself. He’d given Bo Yun the excuse to seize the opportunity. He deflated and flopped back onto the sofa.
“What else could it be? You heard it yourself,” he said gloomily. “That idiot Bo Yun—no idea how he convinced my brother. He’s dragging me to shoot a magazine cover, announce the marriage, and even do a feature interview.”
He snorted. “A fake marriage, but he’s making it look all proper.”
Oh wow.
Fang Chen stroked his chin, sighing with emotion. “Then Bo Yun’s really putting effort into you. Everything that should come with a marriage, he’s got it all covered. Bro, don’t tell me your charm is so overwhelming you’ve already conquered Bo Yun? Is he secretly in love with you?”
The thought made Jiang Zhuoye’s spine go numb. He was utterly speechless and immediately kicked Fang Chen.
“Screw off. A slab of granite would fall in love with me faster than Bo Yun would.”