Yu Yan walked as she spoke: “If you two keep causing trouble, I’m calling the police.”
As she closed the stairwell door, she heard Mother Yu’s shrill cries: “Yu Yan, you ungrateful thing, you’ll get what’s coming to you!”
Yu Yan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
No, they were the ones who would get what was coming to them.
When she got home, she kicked off her high heels, sank into the sofa, and let out a sigh.
She couldn’t stay at her current address anymore—otherwise, she’d be endlessly harassed by that pair. She furrowed her brows, irritated and exhausted.
Her phone rang again. It was an unfamiliar local number.
“Hello?”
“Miss Yu, hello. I’m He Chiyan. If it’s convenient, I’d like to meet with you.”
He Chiyan—the head of the He family, a legendary figure in Lingcheng’s business circles, and He Fan’s adoptive father.
What did he want with her?
He Chiyan and He Fan were only ten years apart. They had an adoptive father-son relationship, but He Fan was indeed a member of the He family. Yu Yan didn’t know the details behind it.
She recalled what He Fan had said about He Chiyan—cold and unfeeling, aloof and indifferent, rigid in his ways, and ruthless in his methods.
She couldn’t afford to offend someone like him. She didn’t even have the right to refuse.
The meeting place was at a private club. He Chiyan sat by the window, wearing a dark gray suit with his shirt buttons fastened meticulously.
He looked younger than he did in magazines, and far more imposing. His features were sharply defined, his jawline clean-cut, and a pair of rimless glasses sat on his nose. “Miss Yu, please, have a seat.”
Yu Yan sat down across from him, steadying herself. “Mr. He, is there something you’d like to see me about?”
“You and He Fan have broken up.”
Yu Yan raised an eyebrow, roughly guessing why He Chiyan had sought her out. Like most wealthy parents, he was probably worried she’d keep pestering his child and had come to clean up the mess and eliminate any future trouble.
“Yes. If you’re worried I’ll keep bothering him, please rest assured—He Fan and I are completely done. There won’t be any more entanglement.”
He Chiyan looked at her, his gaze deep and unreadable. “Miss Yu, I’m not here because of him. I have a proposal. How about you marry me?”
Yu Yan thought she’d misheard. “Mr. He, that’s not a funny joke.”
He Chiyan took out a document and slid it across the table to her. “I’m not joking. This is a draft of a marriage agreement. You can take a look.”
Yu Yan’s mind raced.
He Chiyan—the true power behind the He family, worth hundreds of billions, thirty-five years old, unmarried. He was the highest branch everyone in Lingcheng wanted to climb.
He wanted to marry her? A woman who’d just been dumped by his son?
“Why?” she asked.
He Chiyan leaned back in his seat. “I need a wife. The old lady at home has been pressuring me. You’re suitable—intelligent, beautiful, highly educated, with an impressive résumé. And I’m interested in you. I admire your clarity and ambition, your ability to make the most of every resource around you. You got your ex-boyfriend to willingly hand over twenty-five million when you broke up. You’re well suited for the position of Mrs. He.”
Yu Yan’s heart gave a heavy thump.
He Chiyan knew that her reasons for being with He Fan weren’t purely emotional. He knew about her ambition and pragmatism. He even knew she’d demanded a hefty breakup settlement.
He Chiyan continued, “Marry me, and you’ll get everything you want. Money, resources, status, and the satisfaction of getting back at He Fan. And I’ll get a suitable wife who can put the old lady’s mind at ease.”
“Is there a time limit?” Yu Yan asked.
He Chiyan answered without hesitation. “No. There’s no precedent of divorce in the He family, unless your desire to divorce is very strong.”
“And what if we don’t get along?”
He Chiyan looked at her. “Then we work through it. As long as you fulfill your duties as Mrs. He and don’t cross my bottom line, I’ll give you the respect and support you deserve. We can cultivate feelings slowly.”
“What do the duties include?” Yu Yan asked cautiously.
“Playing your part in public, dealing with the He family elders and social obligations, and—” He Chiyan paused briefly.
“And the marital relationship. I’m a normal man with physical needs. Before marriage, I can restrain myself or handle it myself, but after marriage, I don’t see the need. I don’t accept a sexless marriage.”
“But you’re thirty-five and I’m twenty-five. We’re ten years apart.” Yu Yan reminded him of the age gap—it might make their interactions less harmonious.
He Chiyan raised an eyebrow slightly. “So, you think I’m too old and can’t perform in that department?”
Yu Yan: …How did this conversation turn from black and white into something dirty?
He Chiyan watched the flush spreading across her cheeks, his gaze darkening.
“I’m busy with work and travel often, so I’m not home frequently. You’ll have complete freedom to do whatever you want. Additionally, I’ll transfer ten million to you every month, and all of Bohe’s resources will be tilted toward you. You can continue working as an architectural designer or open your own studio—whatever you prefer.”
How could Yu Yan not be tempted? Anyone ordinary would be dazzled by such overwhelming wealth, even if it really did feel like a scam.
“I need time to think it over,” she said.
He Chiyan stood up. “Alright. I have a flight tomorrow night. I’ll be away on business for a week. I hope I’ll have your answer by then.”
He walked to the door, then stopped and turned back to look at her.
“Yu Yan, whatever He Fan can give you, I can give you ten times over. What he can’t give you, I can give you as well. I hope you’ll think it over carefully.”
After the door closed, Yu Yan opened the documents on the desk and read through them page by page. The terms were clear, the conditions generous—a monthly allowance of ten million yuan, all of He Corporation’s resources tilted in her favor, and support for establishing her own personal studio.
All she had to do in return was play the part of Mrs. He and fulfill her marital obligations.
Yu Yan closed the documents and looked out the window.
The night was already deep. The neon lights on the opposite shore flickered like a dream—a dream of splendor tailor-made for her.
If she signed this agreement, she could completely shed her past, achieve financial freedom, transcend her class, and stand at the very top of Lingcheng.
But the price was marrying a man ten years her senior—a man she knew nothing about, a man who was, in name, her ex-boyfriend’s father.
This was destined to be an unequal relationship—a chasm in status and standing, a gap in life experience.
Was it worth it?
Yu Yan thought of her parents’ ugly faces downstairs this afternoon.
She thought of He Fan’s condescending, alms-giving expression in the restaurant.
She thought of these six years—walking on eggshells, treading on thin ice, desperately trying to marry into the He family.
She thought of working late into the night, exhausted to the point of falling asleep at her desk, yet never able to cross the class divide.
She was done.
Done with living at others’ mercy, done with reading people’s faces, done with being picked over and judged.
Yu Yan picked up the pen. She hesitated one last time, the tip hovering above the paper.
Would she sign?