Haicheng's sparkling this morning, all clean and shiny after last night's rain. Looks like a postcard, but I know better—this city's never clean for long. I'm in front of my mirror, buttoning up a white silk blouse, picking every detail like it's armor. The woman staring back at me isn't the old Lanying, the one who begged for scraps of love. This version doesn't beg. She deals.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
10 a.m. — Lu Corporation, 58th floor. Come alone.
I smirk. Of course the devil's got a schedule.
Lu Corporation is a beast of a building—glass and steel, built to make you feel small. Inside, it smells like money and fear, everybody moving like they're one wrong step from getting fired. The elevator ride to the 58th floor feels like a countdown, my heels clicking on the marble like a warning shot.
The receptionist barely looks up before she stumbles over her words. "M-Miss Xu? Mr. Lu's waiting."
Waiting. Yeah, right. Men like Lu Shen don't wait—they summon.
His office is a power move in itself. Floor-to-ceiling windows, bookshelves lined up like soldiers, a desk so polished it could double as a mirror. And there he is, Lu Shen, sitting behind it, flipping through a file like I'm not even here. Classic.
"Miss Xu," he says finally, voice smooth as ice. "You're early."
"Bad habit," I say, sitting down and crossing my legs. "I hate being predictable."
He looks up, eyes narrowing just enough to show I've got his attention. For a second, it's just us, two people sizing each other up, waiting for the other to blink.
He slides a folder across the desk. "Contract marriage. Six months."
I pause, fingers brushing the cover. "So the rumors were true."
"Rumors save time," he says, leaning back. "They do the heavy lifting."
I raise an eyebrow. "And what's your job, then?"
"Closing the deal." His eyes don't waver. "You've got a clean reputation, a name that still opens doors, no scandals. On paper, you're perfect."
"And off paper?" I ask, leaning in just a bit.
He studies me. "A wild card. That's what I'm counting on."
I laugh, low and sharp. "You looking to hire a wife or a weapon?"
"Maybe both."
I flip open the folder. It's all there—money, secrecy clauses, an end date inked like a death sentence. A marriage on paper, nothing more.
"Why me?" I ask, though I've got a pretty good guess.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Because you're the only woman in Haicheng who doesn't want me."
That pulls a real laugh out of me, rough and honest. "Your ego's in great shape, I see."
"Not ego," he says, cool as ever. "Just facts."
"And what do you get out of this, Lu Shen? A break from your mom's matchmaking?"
He meets my eyes, steady. "Freedom from family politics. You?"
"Access," I say, smooth as silk. "To every door that's been slammed in my face."
His lips twitch, almost a smile. "Then we're on the same page."
The room goes quiet, but it's not calm—it's like the air's holding a spark. I tap my nails on his desk, slow, deliberate.
"There's gotta be rules," I say.
"Plenty," he says. "No scenes. No scandals. And most importantly—" he pauses, eyes locking on mine "—no falling in love."
I snort. "Wow, you're full of yourself."
"Just practical," he says. "Love screws up the fine print."
I lean forward, elbows on the desk, voice low. "Fine. My rule: if you fall for me, you pay double the penalty."
He blinks, then—holy shit—he smiles. Small, sharp, real. "You drive a hard bargain."
"I've been burned before," I say, softer now. "Tends to make you sharp."
Something flickers in his eyes, gone in a second. Respect, maybe. Or curiosity.
We sign the papers, pens scratching louder than my heartbeat. My pulse is steady, but my brain's already racing ahead, plotting moves.
He stands, offering his hand. "To our deal."
I shake it, firm, no hesitation. "Here's to screwing each other over, Mr. Lu."
That gets a low chuckle—not warm, but like he sees me. "My secretary'll handle the details. Keep it quiet."
"Always," I say, standing. "But don't mistake quiet for weak."
He looks at me, just long enough to make my skin prickle. "Noted."
Walking out, the glass walls throw my reflection back at me—a dozen versions of the same woman. The one who got betrayed. The one who came back. The one about to play Mrs. Lu. They're all me, and none of them are listening to the warnings in my head.
Downstairs, my phone buzzes. Xiao Jian.
Lanying, where are you? Father's asking.
I type back, slow and deliberate.
Making a better future.
Then I block him. Feels like cutting a chain.
Back on the 58th floor, Lu Shen's still staring at the contract. His secretary, Mei, hovers by the door. "Sir, you sure about her? Her family's—"
"Not my problem," he cuts in. "It's her fire I'm betting on."
Mei frowns. "She's trouble?"
He smirks, barely. "So am I."
That night, I'm at my apartment window, contract in hand, watching Haicheng glow under the dusk. Six months to tear down everyone who broke me—and maybe outsmart the man who thinks he's got me on a leash.
A knock at the door. A courier's standing there, blank-faced, holding a velvet box.
"For Mrs. Lu," he says.
I raise an eyebrow. "We're doing titles now?"
Inside's a diamond ring—sharp, cold, perfect. There's a note, too, in tight handwriting.
A prop for the cameras. Don't get attached. — Lu Shen
I slide the ring on, smirking. "Don't worry, darling," I mutter. "I'm allergic to sentiment."
Outside, thunder rumbles, not loud but heavy with promise. Haicheng's waiting, and I'm ready to play