Wen Xi stood in the Entrance Hall, staring at those words for a full ten seconds.
Her heartbeat suddenly quickened. She remembered what he had said—“I need a wife,” “to bear children for me,” “I won’t have feelings for you.”
Every single word in those sentences reminded her what the foundation of this marriage was.
Now, she was about to meet the most prestigious aristocratic family in this city.
Wen Xi took a deep breath and went upstairs, her phone clenched tightly in her hand.
She stood in the walk-in closet for a long time.
In front of her were rows upon rows of neatly hung clothes, all prepared by Fu Linfeng—minimalist, expensive, restrained.
She reached out, her fingers sliding past each piece of clothing, until she stopped at an off-white dress.
The fabric was soft, the tailoring elegant. The collar had a small lapel design—not too revealing, not too conservative.
The hem fell just below the knees. Paired with light-colored heels, it should not go wrong.
She took it down, then searched the accessories cabinet for a pair of nude low-cut heels.
After that, she showered and washed her hair. Once it was dry, she tied it into a low ponytail.
She sat at the dressing table and looked at her reflection in the mirror—clean, plain, without any decoration.
She was not very skilled with makeup and did not own much cosmetics. She only applied a little lip balm to make herself look healthier.
After changing into the dress and putting on the shoes, she stood in front of the full-length mirror.
Her face was small, her skin fair, her eyes large—these were her advantages.
But she could not see them herself.
All she saw was a girl standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to look “worthy” of that family.
Suddenly, she thought of that rooftop.
Over twenty girls, each carefully dressed, each dazzling. And she had stood in the corner, wearing an old, faded dress, completely unnoticed.
But he had chosen her.
Wen Xi took a deep breath at the mirror, then turned and went downstairs.
Fu Linfeng was already waiting in the living room.
He had changed his clothes—a deep blue suit, a white shirt, no tie, the collar slightly open, revealing a sliver of his collarbone.
He leaned against the sofa, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone as he looked at something.
Hearing footsteps on the stairs, he looked up.
When his gaze landed on her, he paused for a moment.
She stood on the stairs, one hand holding the railing, the other clutching a small handbag. She looked quiet and soft, like a white camellia under moonlight.
His gaze lingered on her for about two seconds before moving away.
“Let’s go,” he said, picking up the car keys from the coffee table and walking toward the door.
Wen Xi followed behind him, her steps slightly hurried.
She was not yet used to high heels and walked a little unsteadily.
Fu Linfeng walked in front without turning back, but his pace slowed slightly—barely noticeable, but she felt it.
A black car was parked at the entrance. It was not the usual business car driven by Old Zhou, but a more low-key, steadier vehicle.
Fu Linfeng opened the passenger door and glanced at her.
Wen Xi froze for a moment—he was driving himself? She had thought there would be a chauffeur.
She bent down and got into the passenger seat, placing her small handbag on her lap.
Fu Linfeng closed the door, walked around the front of the car, and sat in the driver’s seat.
The car drove out of the villa district and merged into the main road traffic.
The cabin was very quiet.
Wen Xi sat in the passenger seat, her hands folded on her lap, her fingers unconsciously twisting together.
She had many questions she wanted to ask—
What are your parents like?
Do they know about our marriage?
Will they dislike me?
How should I address them?
Are there rules during meals?
But she did not ask a single one. Because she did not know whether these questions would annoy him, whether he would think she was “asking what she shouldn’t ask.”
She simply sat quietly, looking out the window, her heartbeat quickening with every turn of the car.
At a traffic light, the car stopped.
Fu Linfeng held the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting on the center armrest, his long fingers hanging loosely.
He did not look at her, nor did he speak. The car only had the hum of the air conditioner and their overlapping breathing.
Wen Xi suddenly felt how quiet the car was—so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat.
She secretly glanced at him.
His side profile flickered in and out of light from the dashboard, calm, indifferent, unreadable as always.
As if taking his wife to meet his parents tonight meant no more than attending a board meeting.
Wen Xi looked away and lowered her head, staring at her tightly clasped fingers.
She suddenly remembered what Lin Manman had said—“Aren’t you curious what he’s like at work?”
What she was more curious about now was what he was like in front of his parents.
Was he as cold as he was with her, or did he have a side she had never seen?
She did not know. She knew nothing.
The car entered a quiet tree-lined road.
Wen Xi’s heartbeat grew faster and faster.
“Nervous?” Fu Linfeng suddenly asked.
Wen Xi froze and turned to look at him.
His eyes were still on the road ahead, his expression unchanged, as if those two words had been her imagination.
“…Very nervous,” she admitted honestly, her voice so soft it sounded like she was confessing something shameful.
Fu Linfeng did not respond immediately.
The car passed under a streetlight, and orange light flashed through the window, briefly illuminating his face.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” he said calmly, the same tone as before. “My parents are easy to get along with.”
Wen Xi’s fingers were still twisting on her lap. She bit her lip.
“They… know about our marriage?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Fu Linfeng turned on the signal light, and the car turned into a narrower road. The plane trees on both sides grew denser.
“They knew on the day we got the marriage certificate.”
Wen Xi’s heart tightened.
The day they registered their marriage—meaning his parents knew their son had married a girl he had never met before, someone who had not finished high school, a poor girl whose family was indebted to loan sharks.
What would they think? Would they think she was after money? Would they make things difficult for her at dinner today?
Fu Linfeng seemed to see through her thoughts.
“They’ve been urging me to get married,” he said, voice unhurried. “They were getting annoyed, so I just went ahead and did it.”
Wen Xi froze—so she was used to “silencing them”?
“I don’t like arranged marriages.”
Fu Linfeng continued, his tone carrying a faint coldness.
“The Fu family doesn’t need marriage alliances to stabilize anything. Rather than acting out a relationship with some unfamiliar wealthy daughter—”
He paused.
Rather than what?
Rather than spending a million to buy one?
Rather than finding some poor girl who knew nothing?
Rather than choosing someone “clean,” without background, easy to control?