Nan Sheng quickly selected three wedding dresses and began working on her hairstyle.
Manager Xu wanted her to choose more, but Nan Sheng refused.
What could have been solved with a simple photoshop edit was now turning into such an elaborate process.
Completing the process for one wedding dress already took considerable time. Being pregnant, she couldn’t overexert herself—three sets were her absolute limit.
Fortunately, no one suggested outdoor photography, or Nan Sheng would have turned around and left immediately.
At this very moment, Fu Moyan lounged lazily on the sofa, his features sharp and cold, his voice languid and deep.
“Just choose as many as you like. Consider it entertainment.”
After all, it was a fake marriage—the wedding photos wouldn’t hang on the wall for long anyway.
Nan Sheng cast him a gentle glance, her curved eyelashes casting shadows beneath her eyes.
“Does Second Master think this is a dress-up game where you can tap and change outfits instantly?”
If she really went all out selecting dresses, she’d end up hospitalized from exhaustion tomorrow.
Though inexplicably rebuked, Nan Sheng’s soft-spoken words felt almost playful.
Fu Moyan felt as if a soft needle had pricked his heart—not painful, but leaving him vaguely unsettled.
“Two hours. If we’re not done by then, I’m leaving!”
He coldly tossed out these words before summoning his assistant to bring his laptop, preparing to handle official business.
Since he wasn’t being sarcastic or exuding coldness, Nan Sheng felt relieved.
Because Nan Sheng requested light makeup, everything was completed in under an hour.
Nan Sheng had excellent natural features—a born beauty.
Her skin glowed translucent like winter snow, paired with slender willow-leaf eyebrows and luminous, sparkling eyes.
With just a touch of lipstick, her complexion brightened several shades.
Her eyes shimmered with vibrant light, her smiling face radiant and dazzling.
When she emerged wearing the first wedding dress, the bridal shop staff gasped in admiration, showering her with compliments.
Fu Moyan, having just changed clothes, was initially annoyed by the noise until he lifted his phoenix eyes and was genuinely stunned.
Nan Sheng wore a pure white vintage wedding dress: a two-piece halter top paired with a cathedral train skirt, the mermaid silhouette infused with classical Cheongsam inspiration.
Dazzling beadwork and layered tulle resembled a brilliant white cloud.
With her slender waist, long legs, and partially revealed collarbones, Nan Sheng embodied both elegant reserve and subtle sensuality—the epitome of classic Chinese beauty.
As she slowly raised her gaze to Fu Moyan, a sudden flash of clarity pierced his normally calm and rational mind.
Skin like congealed cream, countenance dazzling as spring snow.
This line of poetry surfaced in his thoughts, feeling utterly appropriate for Nan Sheng in this moment.
The two followed the photographer’s directions and stood before the camera.
“Closer, move closer!” the photographer kept shouting.
“Mr. Fu, Fu Matriarch, you’re standing too far apart!”
If this continued, how could he possibly take the photos?!
If not for their prestigious status and generous payment, he’d seriously consider quitting!
With such distance between them, he couldn’t even photoshop any genuine emotion into the shots!
Compelled by the photographer’s urging, Fu Moyan reluctantly edged slightly closer to Nan Sheng.
Really, just the tiniest bit!
Glancing at the nearly half-shoulder gap between them, Nan Sheng finally lost patience. She suddenly grabbed Fu Moyan’s tie and pulled him toward her.
Caught off guard, Fu Moyan feared his hands might bump against Nan Sheng’s stomach. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her slender waist, pulling her forward against him.
Were it not for his arm blocking her, Nan Sheng would have been nearly sprawled across his chest!
The photographer was sweating with anxiety when suddenly his eyes lit up, swiftly capturing this moment!
The tall, aloof Fu Moyan slightly lowered his head while the slender, graceful Nan Sheng looked up softly, leaning delicately against his embrace. Their eyes met, feigning “tender affection.”
The man’s robust, cold strength and the woman’s delicate fragility formed a striking contrast.
Her pale fingers entwined with his dark tie, exuding an unspoken allure.
Fu Moyan stood tall and imposing, while Nan Sheng appeared elegant and refined—they seemed like a match made in heaven.
Overjoyed, the photographer exclaimed, “Yes, yes, yes! Just like that!”
“Fu Matriarch, pull the tie and turn around, with your back to Mr. Fu!”
“Mr. Fu, your hand should rest on the Fu Matriarch’s waist… Yes! That’s it! Don’t be so stiff…”
At these words, the entire VIP photography studio fell into dead silence.
The photographer was startled too—what had he just said?
He actually told Second Master Fu that he was too rigid?!
Though it was the truth, Second Master Fu seemed so intimidating… Would he silence him for this?
Nan Sheng suddenly let out a light laugh, gently pulling Fu Moyan’s hand to rest on her waist, her voice soft as water.
“Second Master, don’t be afraid. I won’t do anything to you.”
Was she some kind of ferocious beast, to make him so tense?
Nan Sheng teased in a low voice, “Second Master, it’s just a photo. No need to act so innocent, or you’ll give us away.”
Though Nan Sheng meant it as a friendly reminder, to Fu Moyan it came across as mockery and provocation.
Fu Moyan was already irritated by the photographer’s comment about his stiffness, and now Nan Sheng was taunting him!
Second Master Fu had always been proud and competitive, unwilling to lose face over such a trivial matter.
Ignoring the slender, soft waist beneath his palm, he tightened his grip, pulling Nan Sheng flush against him until not a sliver of space remained between them.
He even lifted her chin with his hand, his “affectionate” gaze fixed on her red lips.
The photographer quickly snapped several shots of the scene.
Fu Moyan’s deep pupils lingered on Nan Sheng’s lips, lost in thought.
Even after the photographer finished, Fu Moyan showed no intention of releasing her chin, leaving Nan Sheng uncomfortable in the pose.
“What are you looking at?” she asked softly.
Fu Moyan suddenly spoke, “Didn’t you say you were wearing light makeup? Why is it still so heavy?”
His expression and tone conveyed genuine confusion.
She had only filled in her brows and applied lipstick—where was the heavy makeup?!
Nan Sheng didn’t want to engage with such a clueless straight man and rolled her eyes delicately.
At such close range, Fu Moyan watched her long eyelashes flutter and found it oddly endearing.
He unconsciously overlooked the fact that she had just rolled her eyes at him in disdain.
Perhaps it was because Nan Sheng had always maintained a gentle, smiling demeanor before—too poised, almost unreal.
Suddenly seeing these subtle expressions on her face struck Fu Moyan as peculiar.
The photographer cautiously suggested to Fu Moyan, “Mr. Fu, could you carry the Fu Matriarch in a princess hold?”
A mermaid-style gown trailing on the floor would look especially beautiful in a princess carry pose, particularly since the Fu Matriarch had such a fine figure.
It would highlight both the man’s strength and sensual tension and the woman’s graceful silhouette.
However, at this point, the photographer didn’t dare say another word.