The morning sunlight in Beijing danced across the marble walls of the opulent dining hall. Shuyan gently placed her teacup on the saucer, the soft clink slicing through the silence. "My only son's wedding cannot happen in such a secretive manner," she said, her voice carrying an authoritative weight. "Zain, I want a grand wedding, in the largest hall in Beijing."
Anya, who had been quietly cutting her toast until then, froze mid-motion. Her face turned pale, as if all the blood in her body had been drained. She raised her anxious eyes; her throat had gone dry. She was about to open her mouth to protest when, under the table, Zain's strong hand shot out like lightning.
He grasped Anya's fingers in his hold, applying a pressure both gentle and firm enough that her words became trapped in her throat. Zain's eyes held a cold smile as he glanced at his mother.
"Absolutely, mother," Zain's voice was as smooth as silk. He still held Anya's hand. "I cannot ignore anything you say—as long as my conditions are met. This wedding will only be among family and close friends. In Shenzhen, no one, not even the media, must know."
Shuyan's brows knitted slightly as she tried to read the depth hidden in Zain's eyes. Zain did not want his 'bachelor tycoon' mask in Shenzhen to fall, nor did he want Uncle Lu to see his cards prematurely. However, he had no idea that Lu Wei's gaze was already fixed on them.
Shuyan finally nodded. "Fine. But don't waste any more time. Go and select the finest wedding dress for Anya."
Part 2: Boutique Tension and 'Project Phoenix'
As they stepped out of the mansion's heavy wooden doorway, Anya pulled her hand sharply from Zain's grip. She took deep, long breaths, her chest rising and falling with anger and fear.
"Mr. Zain, stop this madness! We cannot put on this spectacle in front of the entire world. This wedding is a lie!" she almost shouted.
There was no crease on Zain's face. He checked the time on his expensive watch, and in a swift motion grabbed Anya's wrist and directed her toward a sleek black Lamborghini. "You will speak, Anya," he whispered close to her ear, "because right now you have much to lose, and I have an entire empire to gain."
Beijing's most expensive boutique, The Royal Lace, glimmered with velvet carpets and chandeliers. Anya changed dresses like a lifeless doll—sometimes satin, sometimes tulle, sometimes intricately hand-embroidered. But Zain, seated on the boutique sofa with his legs crossed, seemed only focused on his files. He rejected each dress without even looking closely.
Suddenly, Zain's fingers froze. A memory flashed in his mind like lightning. He immediately called Kian.
"Qian, get the 'Project Phoenix' dress from the Shenzhen office safe. Send it to Beijing immediately via chartered plane. I want that one."
Anya's heart seemed to skip a beat. "No! That dress… it was the biggest dream of my career. I nurtured it with my soul… not for this… this bargaining!" Her voice trembled.
Zain rose from the sofa and walked toward her with a slow, measured pace. His shadow fell heavily over Anya's petite frame. He pushed a strand of hair from her cheek with his fingers, gently yet with an icy glare in his eyes. "What a coincidence, Anya. You designed your wedding outfit yourself, not knowing that you would walk into my cage wearing it."
Part 3: The Garment of Iron Threads
Inside the VIP trial room of the luxurious Beijing boutique, a heavy silence lingered. After waiting a few hours, Qian entered carrying a large velvet box. With a flick of his finger, Zain motioned for him to open it.
As the lid lifted, the 'Project Phoenix' dress shimmered. Its white silk and champagne-colored fine embroidery glowed as if a real Phoenix were ready to rise from the ashes. Anya froze in place. She touched the fabric with trembling hands. It was the exact dress she had poured countless sleepless nights and her entire creative energy into—her first great career flight.
"Wear it," Zain's voice echoed off the cold walls of the room.
Anya shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "No, this is the dress of my dreams. I nurtured it with my effort… do not make it part of this bargaining, Mr. Zain. I can wear another dress, but not this one!"
Zain rose from his chair and approached her with slow, measured steps. The sound of his shoes echoed in the empty room. He came close to her, leaning near her ear, whispering, "Better if you stop talking about dreams, Anya. You made it for 'freedom,' but look at fate… now it becomes the uniform of your 'captivity.' Wear it, or I will help you put it on myself."
The Ornament of Captivity
With a heavy heart, Anya stepped into the changing room. When she emerged, everyone present in the boutique held their breath. The dress fit her like a second skin. The fine beadwork accentuated her slender waist, and the long train lay behind her like a royal wave on the floor.
But Anya felt as if the dress was made not of fabric, but of iron chains. Each stitch pricked her. It seemed as if the wings of that Phoenix had been cut. She looked in the mirror—she appeared as a beautiful bride, but her eyes held the emptiness of a dead bird.
Zain slowly stepped out from behind the curtain. As his gaze fell upon Anya, his stern expression softened momentarily. His eyes traced her face and the delicate details of the dress she had lovingly crafted. For a moment, Zain forgot his hatred, his revenge—everything. Before him stood what seemed like an angel.
Yet he quickly composed himself and donned his stone-cold mask once more. Standing behind her, he met her eyes in the mirror and said, "Very good. Now you truly look like a Yan family daughter-in-law. But remember, Mrs. Yan, this brilliance is only for the world. To me, you are just a beautiful captive."
Anya met his gaze in the mirror and replied, "You may steal my art, Mr. Zain, but you will never conquer me. This dress pricks me… just like your bitterness."
Part 4: Shenzhen's Stir and Broken Hearts
Meanwhile, in the humid weather of Shenzhen, Qian looked out of his office window with a heavy heart. He dialed lu wei (Anya's brother) number.
"Hello, Lu Wei? This is qian. Get ready—your sister's wedding is happening. Zain sir wants you to come to Beijing immediately."
There was a long silence on the other side. Lu Wei's hand tightened around the phone. He knew what was happening between Zain and Anya. He knew that this wedding was not a result of love, but a sacrifice forced by circumstances. Uncle Lu's threats and Zain's pressure—he had failed to save his sister.
"Is she happy?" Lu Wei asked in a muffled voice.
Qian had no answer to that question. He simply said, "She is safe. Come to Beijing."
After hanging up, Kian picked up an old photo of Huan Jing on his desk. His fingers caressed Jing's face in the picture. He knew how deep the friendship between Jing and Anya was. He also knew that when Jing learned that Kian had aided Zain in this 'forced marriage,' she would hate him.
Qian let out a cold sigh and murmured, "To save some relationships, some others must be sacrificed, Jing… I wish you could understand."
From Shenzhen to Beijing, the web of intrigue had now been fully laid. The 'Phoenix' dress, stitched with Anya's own hands, had become her destiny.