Lin Yan Yan couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Jiang Qinian had always forbidden Jiang Zhi from contacting her. Back then, when she'd secretly called Jiang Zhi, there'd been a few close calls—Jiang Zhi would panic and hang up the second she thought Jiang Qinian might catch on. Lin Yan Yan figured it had become a reflex for Jiang Zhi, so she shot her a message right away:
Jiang Zhi, don't tell me you're still living with Jiang Qinian?!
Jiang Zhi's heart had jumped into her throat the moment she met that man's dark, unreadable gaze. She'd meant to slip out to the balcony and escape back to the bedroom, but then—buzz, buzz, buzz—her phone lit up, bright and obvious in the darkness.
Her hand froze on the doorknob. With a quick glance at the screen, she hesitated, then decided to reply—better that than be bombarded with messages later. Her fingertips tapped the screen fast:
No, I moved out.
I'll tell you more tomorrow.
After sending, she locked the screen, clutched her phone, and pushed open the balcony door to slip back into the bedroom.
The man sat sprawled on the sofa, dark sleepwear unbuttoned at the neckline, legs spread wide. His index finger—adorned with a silver ring—tapped the sofa armrest, slow and deliberate.
Only a warm bedside lamp lit the room, casting half his stern, chiseled features in shadow. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes pinned her in place, intense and possessive, like a physical weight on her skin.
Jiang Zhi's heart thudded. Her palms grew clammy as she stood rooted to the spot.
They stared at each other in silence, the tension stretching out…
Finally, he spoke. "Come here."
The command was sharp, his tone cold and flat.
Jiang Zhi pressed her lips tight, took a long stride toward him—but stopped a meter away. His presence was too overwhelming, like a wall of heat.
Shang Chi flicked a glance at her, impatience seeping into his voice. "Scared of me?"
Clearly, he thought she was keeping her distance on purpose.
Jiang Zhi pursed her lips and stepped closer—only for him to lean forward, long arm snaking out to catch her wrist. In one swift tug, she let out a soft gasp as she toppled onto his lap.
Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. His hand settled on her waist, warm even through the thin fabric of her sleepwear.
Her entire body pressed against his chest, surrounded by the faint, heady scent of him. The second she registered how intimate their position was, she scrambled to pull her hands away from his neck.
Shang Chi's gaze dropped to her flustered little hands. His voice was cool as ice: "Who were you texting?"
"Just a friend," Jiang Zhi answered quickly.
He looked down at her, a mocking huff escaping his lips. "A friend? Then why so guilty?"
His eyes were too sharp, like they could slice through her excuses. Her fingertips tensed as she explained, "She invited me to a bar."
His thumb brushed her waist, slow and patient. "And?"
Jiang Zhi felt utterly exposed, like prey under a hunter's gaze. "She… said she'd introduce me to some guys."
The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.
His eyebrow quirked, eyes darkening as he drawled, "You want to go?"
The question hung in the air, and suddenly, Jiang Zhi remembered—she was his wife now. She'd done nothing wrong. There was no need to feel guilty.
Something in her straightened.
Lifting her slender, fox-like eyes to meet his, she said steadily, "No. I never planned to go."
Her tone was firm, neither submissive nor defiant.
His thumb paused against her earlobe. His deep eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her face for a moment, then he spoke, his voice low: "Good."
Jiang Zhi wasn't one to let things lie. Remembering an interview she'd seen, she blurted, "I heard you have a 'moonlight'—what if you betray this marriage?"
Shang Chi's eyebrow lifted, as if amused by the question. "Don't see how that conflicts."
Leaning in, his voice dropped to a raspy murmur by her ear, hot breath sending shivers down her neck: "Or… do you mind there's a 'moonlight' in my heart?"
Too close. Way too close.
And she was still perched on his lap. Jiang Zhi pushed against his chest, putting space between them as she answered crisply, "Doesn't matter. But fair's fair—I want a guarantee."
Powerful families like his made marriage a cage; leaving was harder than entering. She wasn't about to waste her life in a rotten relationship, just to play dutiful daughter-in-law to his family.
Men like him—rich, powerful, used to getting what they want—could have affairs, keep mistresses… She'd seen it all. She wasn't about to turn a blind eye like those wealthy socialites. Better to be practical.
The man's dark eyes darkened further. His tone turned frosty: "What guarantee?"
Jiang Zhi met his gaze head-on. "If it comes to that… divorce. Set me free."
Marrying into a powerful family was hard enough; leaving would be a battle. But she needed an escape route.