“Are you out of your mind, old man? She’s already this far gone, and you still won’t let them divorce? Even if your grandson is at death’s door, with your family’s standing, finding a normal girl would be no problem at all.”
Fang Ruo wondered if this grandfather was even the real deal.
It wasn’t that Elder Chen had a screw loose—it was that he trusted metaphysics too much.
A few days ago, when Chen Zhuo was on the verge of breathing his last, Elder Chen remembered what the master had said: find someone with a compatible birth date and time, register a marriage as a ritual to ward off death. Through a series of mishaps, they’d landed on Fang Ruo’s birth chart, and the master said she had a rare and blessed destiny of wealth and prosperity.
Without verifying anything else, without even meeting her, he’d gone straight ahead and handled the paperwork.
The bride price was delivered through an intermediary.
After the marriage certificate was obtained, Chen Zhuo, who had been unconscious for days, miraculously woke up.
What Chen Yujing thought was: even if she’s a fool, she’s still a human being—even if she were just a dog, given that she’d saved his life, no divorce!
Fang Ruo was anxious, cursing the old man in her head for being insane, but that didn’t stop the silly, vacant look from staying plastered on her face.
“Hehe, my auntie said if I don’t get a divorce, I can’t marry Er Gouzi back in the village. Grandpa, can I? Can I marry twice?”
“You—oh, my—”
Elder Chen had just compared her to a dog, and now here came an Er Gouzi.
Chen Yujing nearly choked on his own breath.
Luckily, the nanny came back, hurried over to steady the old man, and thumped his back hard until he caught his breath again.
“Grandpa, yes or no, just give me a straight answer! Er Gouzi is really good—he’d honor you too, Grandpa…”
There was no Er Gouzi in the village. The Er Gouzi Fang Ruo spoke of was her dog from her past life—a golden retriever she’d raised for nearly ten years.
Chen Yujing was so furious over Er Gouzi he nearly keeled over. He tossed the money and the household registry and other documents back at Fang Ruo’s feet, turned, and walked inside, barking orders at the nanny as he went, “Get someone to send her back to the countryside right away. Give her enough money. The marriage is not ending.”
The nanny: “…”
“Fang Ruo.”
Fang Ruo, still plotting her next move and whether to change tactics, heard that familiar voice she’d heard just that morning. Oh, heavens!
She wasn’t afraid of playing the fool—she was afraid of being exposed on the spot, afraid the divorce wouldn’t go through.
That one call of “Fang Ruo” from Chen Zhuo, and the silly girl’s act was completely over.
Instant social death, right there on the spot.
If a pit could open up and swallow her whole, Fang Ruo thought that would be even better.
The old man, about to head back to the living room, stopped short, looking from his grandson to the fool. “You two… know each other?”
Chen Zhuo didn’t answer his grandfather.
It was Chen Zhuo’s bodyguard, Xu Maotang, who spoke up. “We were coming back from Shunde today. Chen Zhuo and she were on the same bus, seated right next to each other.”
Chen Yujing: “So?”
Xu Maotang: “Fang Ruo is faking it.”
She really was convincing!
Not being a fool was good. Not being a fool was very good.
And Chen Zhuo was still willing to talk to her—there was hope.
Chen Zhuo walked over, picked up the documents, marriage certificate, household registry, and the rest from the floor, and headed into the living room.
“Come inside if you have something to say.”
So this was Chen Zhuo? Fang Ruo regretted it deeply—why hadn’t she asked his name on the bus? Then none of this farce would have happened.
Social death was social death, but as long as she could get the divorce, that was what mattered. Given the Chen family’s standing, after the divorce she’d never cross paths with anyone in this estate again. With that thought, Fang Ruo felt at ease again.
She picked up her half-worn canvas satchel and followed him into the living room.
The moment she sat down, Fang Ruo wasted no time stating her case.
“Elder Chen, Chen Zhuo, the certificate stamped by my village’s brigade captain is real. My household registry was genuinely stolen. This marriage was arranged without my knowledge, so it’s invalid.
The civil affairs bureau hasn’t closed yet—let’s go over there right now and get this done. That way, neither of us holds the other back. What do you say?”
When she’d been playing the fool, Chen Yujing’s only answer had been no divorce. Now that he knew she wasn’t a fool, and that her bearing and speech were neither servile nor overbearing, carrying her own quiet dignity—not to mention that no matter how many explosive-acting heiresses had entered this garden, none of them could pull off the calm she was showing now—and this girl Fang Ruo wasn’t even pretending. She simply didn’t care about the family’s wealth.
Quite interesting. How could they divorce now?
This was what they meant by stumbling onto the right answer by accident. He’d thought he’d just follow the master’s advice, get a marriage certificate, and keep her in the countryside with a pension for life—whether she was a cat or a dog didn’t matter.
But ever since the certificate was issued, Chen Zhuo had woken up.
Chen Yujing couldn’t ignore fate even if he wanted to.
And now she’d come knocking on their door herself. A real marriage would work too—better yet, if she could get pregnant right away, Chen Zhuo would have an heir…
The old man was thinking way too far ahead.
“Fang Ruo, as you can see, in terms of family and looks, our family doesn’t fall short.”
It was more than not falling short—Fang Ruo finally remembered. Chen Garden belonged to a merchant named Chen Dawang, a man with ties to the government. He’d amassed enormous wealth, then during the hard times, gave away the Chen family’s century-old fortune, devoting himself entirely to supporting national construction, earning the highest praise from national leaders and the people alike.
This Chen Zhuo’s grandfather, by that reckoning, should be Chen Dawang’s son.
Chen Garden—this massive estate—had survived all these years intact in the Chen family’s hands, all thanks to the protective blessing of old Master Chen Dawang.
By the time it reached Chen Dawang’s son, Chen Yujing’s generation, the family was still thriving, with assets spread across overseas territories. Even old Master Chen Yujing himself spent half the year in Hong Kong managing business affairs.
“Yes, Elder, and that’s exactly why you shouldn’t hold your grandson back. With your family’s standing, women lining up to marry in could wrap around Flower City three times and still not run out. Why insist on me, an uneducated farm girl?”
That’s because your birth chart is auspicious, and that’s because my grandson is willing to talk to you, Elder Chen thought to himself.
“There’s no need to discuss this further. I’ve said it—no divorce, and that’s final.”
This old man was truly stubborn as a mule.
Since the parental route was a dead end, there was still the person directly involved. Fang Ruo shifted her strategy.
“Chen Zhuo, you agree to the divorce, right? These days, marriage freedom is what matters—arranged marriages are outdated.”
“Come with me. We’ll talk privately.”
“Okay!”
Chen Zhuo’s face showed no expression, as somber and lifeless as ever. A man like that held no hope for anything—this marriage probably meant nothing to him. He’d likely been married off by his grandfather without even knowing it.
Analyzing it that way, Fang Ruo felt a glimmer of hope again. She didn’t overthink it, rolled up the documents, and followed him upstairs.
Chen Yujing coughed twice, shooting a warning glance at Chen Zhuo heading up to the second floor, as if to say, You dare divorce? I’ll—
No sooner had they entered the study than Chen Zhuo got straight to the point, wasting no words. “We can divorce, but I have conditions. Don’t rush to object—I also expect you to answer my questions truthfully.”
“Fine, go ahead.”
“Are you seeing anyone? Do you have any plans to marry within the next three to five years?”
“None at all.”
It just so happened she’d been reborn right at the crest of the reform and opening-up wave—Fang Ruo wouldn’t waste such a golden opportunity.
Fang Ruo answered quickly, without a second thought, and Chen Zhuo was pleased. That meant there was something to negotiate.
“Since you have no plans to marry, and the marriage has already happened, whether we divorce a few years earlier or later doesn’t make much difference. As for me, the doctors say I don’t have many years left. In other words, if I die in a few years, staying married would actually benefit you more—the Chen family won’t mistreat a daughter-in-law. Divorce and remarrying after widowhood are both second marriages, so there’s no real difference. Of course, if you’re not in a hurry to divorce, you can name any conditions you want, as long as the Chen family can fulfill them.”
Fang Ruo had seen him during one of his episodes. Families like his would spare no expense to cure him if it were possible—but if it wasn’t, all that remained was waiting for the end. It seemed he truly didn’t have many years left.
“I want to know—why did your family do this?”
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