Wei Jiayi was dumbfounded when Zhao Jing said, “I do,” and leaned in to kiss him. Before he could respond, his mouth was firmly sealed. Although shocked, Wei Jiayi wasn’t entirely unable to piece together Zhao Jing’s thought process for the night.
It wasn’t entirely Zhao Jing’s fault. When Wei Jiayi wasn’t tired, he was very proactive—perhaps even going a little overboard. He had done everything leading up to the final step so thoroughly that it gave Zhao Jing the impression something was about to happen. When Zhao Jing later discovered the hidden ring in the closet, it made sense for him to think Wei Jiayi had intended to surprise him.
Wei Jiayi could admit that it was his own fault. However, he never expected that, in Zhao Jing’s world, there was no concept of “couple rings.”
Dating could be casual, and emotional investment carried no real-world cost. If it didn’t work out, breaking up wasn’t a big deal, and over time, the pain would fade. But “marriage”—that word had never even crossed Wei Jiayi’s mind. When Zhao Jing casually mentioned it, his heart rate spiked, and “panic” didn’t even begin to describe how he felt.
He knew he needed to clarify things. Placing his hands on Zhao Jing’s shoulders, he pushed him away, got out of bed, and turned on the lights. Determined to resolve everything, he turned back to see Zhao Jing bathed in the soft glow of the light.
Zhao Jing sat on the bed, taking up a large portion of it. His shadow stretched halfway across the mattress, his robe was disheveled, and his hair untouched—but somehow, his hairstyle still looked well-groomed. His eyes carried an innocence Wei Jiayi would never find in anyone else. He looked so happy, so satisfied. Wei Jiayi wanted to explain, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Zhao Jing’s words: “I ordered one for you too.” It was as if they had already tacitly agreed to spend their lives together.
Wei Jiayi remembered the first night they stayed at the guesthouse on the island. He had been preparing to sleep on the couch when Zhao Jing suddenly appeared in the living room, refusing to leave, waiting for Wei Jiayi to comfort him about his post-traumatic stress. It was just like how Zhao Jing would poke Wei Jiayi in their chat interface but not say a word, waiting for Wei Jiayi to start the conversation.
At the time, Wei Jiayi had found this young master unbearably annoying—a man spoiled by everyone and so lucky that he never had to consider anyone else’s feelings. But Wei Jiayi knew he couldn’t afford to offend him and had to coax Zhao Jing for a long time before he finally left. Comparing that situation to this one now, Wei Jiayi couldn’t even say which was simpler.
After Wei Jiayi started working, one event left a deep impression on him. It was the first time he photographed a private dinner for a luxury brand, where he met an energetic, rich young lady. She had a great personality, and her husband came from a family of immense wealth, doting on her endlessly. At the dinner, everyone gathered around her as if she were a princess.
His colleague told Wei Jiayi that after she graduated from university, she had worked at a nursing home. Her husband had gone there to donate supplies, and that’s how they met. Her background was ordinary, and his family had initially disapproved of their relationship. He fought hard against his family’s objections, and after many struggles, they married and had children—just like the happy ending of a TV drama.
But three years later, Wei Jiayi saw news of their divorce. The article reported that her credit card had been deactivated, and she had to sell her luxurious clothes to pay the lawyer fees for the divorce. The man who had once loved her so deeply had hired a team of ruthless lawyers, even trying to reclaim the fur coats he’d bought for her during their relationship. In court, the two of them turned on each other, hurling insults and showing their most malicious sides, as if love had never existed between them. In the world of lavish extravagance that Wei Jiayi often witnessed through his work, this wasn’t the only story that began beautifully but ended tragically.
Of course, Zhao Jing wouldn’t end up like that. But with someone like Zhao Jing, how long would love last? How long would a so-called marriage last? Their first love had come so suddenly—could it be nothing more than a game? No one could give Wei Jiayi a definitive answer. And what would Wei Jiayi have to pay when they parted? If they separated, would Wei Jiayi have a good ending? Would it be peaceful? No matter how much Wei Jiayi liked Zhao Jing, he couldn’t deceive himself about love.
If Wei Jiayi had even a shred of basic reason left, he wouldn’t have gritted his teeth and gone along with the flow. Between the two of them, at least one needed to keep a clear head. After all, this was still a relationship that hadn’t begun very long ago. Wei Jiayi clearly remembered that not too long ago, Zhao Jing had promised over the phone to try dating in secret. Zhao Jing had even accepted his suggestion to take things slow.
But—
“Wei Jiayi.” Zhao Jing didn’t wait for him to speak and instead took the initiative to interpret Wei Jiayi’s silence with an optimistic tone. “Are you so happy about the successful proposal that you’ve gone dumb?”
Zhao Jing looked like he was in a great mood, completely unaware that anything was amiss. Moving to the edge of the bed, he took hold of Wei Jiayi’s wrist and pulled him back.
Wei Jiayi fell onto the bed, and Zhao Jing pulled him into his arms, as if unable to resist being close to him. He lowered his head and kissed Wei Jiayi’s neck.
Zhao Jing’s breath, lips, and even his hair, all warmer than Wei Jiayi’s body temperature, made him feel ticklish. Zhao Jing held him tightly around the waist, kissing him while confidently demanding, “Isn’t it time to take the ring out?”
“…” Wei Jiayi struggled to part his lips, but before he could speak, Zhao Jing continued, “I didn’t mean to ruin your surprise, you know? You hid it too carelessly. Think about it—when I saw the bathrobe dropped in the wardrobe, how could I not pick it up and hang it? I’m not you.”
Zhao Jing was so excited after finding the ring that he couldn’t stop talking, as though he had already imagined countless romantic scenarios for Wei Jiayi in his mind. He lifted his head from Wei Jiayi’s neck and looked at him earnestly, his gaze unusually formal. “When you were asleep, I tried it on. It fits perfectly. Did you secretly measure my ring finger?”
In truth, Wei Jiayi had intended to buy the ring for Zhao Jing’s middle finger, but after painstakingly estimating the size with a measuring tool, he had still gotten it wrong. It seemed like fate was always on Zhao Jing’s side.
It wouldn’t have been hard to clarify things with just a few words—Wei Jiayi only had to say it. But the scene and the atmosphere at that moment made it seem as though he had truly proposed to Zhao Jing, as if they had silently decided to spend their lives together that very night. In that brief instant, Wei Jiayi finally understood why Cinderella danced with the prince at the ball until the very last second, at 11:59, just before the magic wore off.
People in love become fools, surrendering to self-destructive tendencies despite knowing better. Wei Jiayi could clearly see how his own boundaries kept disappearing, time and time again, and each time, he felt powerless to stop it.
At first, when he left Buderus Island and began texting Zhao Jing frequently, Wei Jiayi had convinced himself it was just sending texts—it wasn’t like they were in a relationship.
Then, after being caught secretly touching Zhao Jing, Wei Jiayi agreed to date him in secret, telling himself that starting a relationship wasn’t a problem. After all, everyone in love had to endure a little hardship, right?
Now, the misunderstanding had escalated to this point. Wei Jiayi looked at Zhao Jing and realized that the most important thing was that, although the interpretation of the proposal was absurd, explaining the truth would certainly make Zhao Jing angry and possibly even heartbroken.
He pulled away from Zhao Jing’s embrace. His body moved easily, but his spirit seemed to float above him, watching himself approach the edge of a cliff, driven by insufficient willpower and cowardice. He walked to the lounge chair, drew the curtains, and took out the shopping bag.
“Wei Jiayi, are you a mole?” Zhao Jing laughed at him. “Hiding the gift all over the place.”
“Because I didn’t plan to give it to you today. It wasn’t very official.” Wei Jiayi heard himself lie to Zhao Jing, and a tingling sensation crawled up the back of his head. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“I don’t care about it being formal,” Zhao Jing said, his gaze fixed on Wei Jiayi as he walked toward him. “I’ve already discovered it, so how could I pretend I don’t know?”
Wei Jiayi muttered a “Hmm” as he placed the shopping bag on the bed, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to tell Zhao Jing that the ring was meant to be worn on the chain around his neck. At that moment, Zhao Jing’s phone on the bedside table lit up and began vibrating.
Zhao Jing glanced at the caller’s name, his brow furrowing slightly, and the mood shifted. He told Wei Jiayi, “I need to take this call. It might not be good news.”
Wei Jiayi snapped out of his thoughts, feeling as though the suffocating grip on his heart had finally loosened a little. His headache had subsided, though he still felt tense as he watched Zhao Jing talk to the person on the other end.
Zhao Jing listened for a moment before saying, “Got it.”
“Good thing I’ve memorized the statement.” Zhao Jing’s tone wasn’t heavy, and he even joked a little with the person on the phone before turning more serious. “I’ll record it once I’m back at the office.”
After a bit more conversation, Zhao Jing hung up the phone and turned to Wei Jiayi. “The news really did leak, but it’s not all bad. The contingency plans are solid, and since it’s Saturday, the market’s closed.”
Zhao Jing’s expression remained relaxed, but Wei Jiayi felt more anxious than he did. Zhao Jing called his secretary, got up, and walked to the door of Wei Jiayi’s room, opening it to speak with the secretary.
Wei Jiayi sat on the edge of the bed, catching snippets of Secretary Wu’s words like “take off” and “arrange.” A short while later, he heard the door close, and Zhao Jing returned.
Wei Jiayi couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Are you leaving now? Is it serious?”
“Such concern for me?” Zhao Jing seemed to interpret Wei Jiayi’s question in his own way and didn’t respond directly.
The more relaxed Zhao Jing appeared, the more worried Wei Jiayi became. The mix-up about the proposal and his own complicated, awkward thoughts didn’t matter now. He just didn’t want Zhao Jing to bear all the negative emotions alone. Gently nudging Zhao Jing, he persisted, “Is it serious or not?”
“Afraid I’ll go bankrupt?” Zhao Jing asked casually. But noticing that Wei Jiayi was asking sincerely, he leaned in and kissed Wei Jiayi’s cheek. “It’s fine. I told you, we have a plan in place.”
Wei Jiayi immediately responded, “Then does that mean you need to change your clothes right away?”
“Are you kicking me out again?” Zhao Jing looked down at Wei Jiayi.
Wei Jiayi couldn’t read his expression. Filled with worry and anxiety, unsure of how to help, all he could do was grab Zhao Jing’s hand helplessly and say, “I just don’t want you to have something important to do and still be here with me.”
Zhao Jing stared at him for a few seconds before kissing Wei Jiayi’s lips forcefully—deeply, but not for long. After pulling back, he suddenly glanced at his watch and said, “My flight leaves in two hours.”
“Then—” Wei Jiayi was about to say, “I’ll take you to the airport,” but he only managed to get one word out before Zhao Jing interrupted.
“—Wei Jiayi, the marriage registration office here stays open until midnight. We’ve got an hour left. Do you want to marry me before I go bankrupt?”
Zhao Jing was joking about bankruptcy, and Wei Jiayi knew that. He’d read enough antitrust cases to understand that, even if the sky fell, Zhao Jing wouldn’t actually go bankrupt. Still, Zhao Jing changed his clothes, and so did Wei Jiayi. They grabbed their documents and headed toward the elevator, quickening their pace. Wei Jiayi felt like he might take off into the air at any moment. Silence conveyed more than words could, and his heart pounded like an earthquake.
Under the bright lights of the sleepless city, Zhao Jing led Wei Jiayi to a red taxi parked at the hotel entrance. The driver, upon hearing their destination, offered an early congratulations on their wedding. After a twelve-minute ride, Zhao Jing handed the driver a stack of cash, holding tightly onto Wei Jiayi’s hand as they rushed off like racing against the clock.
Since it was late, there weren’t many couples in line. They quickly reached the counter, filled out the forms, and got their marriage license as easily as ordering food at a burger joint. Zhao Jing had chosen the most expensive nighttime wedding service. Wei Jiayi had never experienced anything like this before, letting chaotic and wild impulses take over his body and decide his future. Spinning in a daze, Wei Jiayi found himself gripping Zhao Jing’s hand tightly, standing in front of a white-haired priest in a sacred chapel. He had already heard a long recitation of wedding vows, and every inch of his body trembled as he frantically blurted out, “I do.”
Zhao Jing wasn’t much more composed than Wei Jiayi. He stuffed a pile of tips into the priest’s hands and kissed Wei Jiayi so hard that he bit his lip. On the car ride to the airport, Zhao Jing held Wei Jiayi’s hand tightly, as if gripping him hard enough could fuse the two of them into one.
In the end, Zhao Jing’s plane took off, and Wei Jiayi stood outside watching.
The light of the airplane slowly faded into the distance, weaving in and out of jellyfish-like clouds in the clear night sky. The dryness of the city made Wei Jiayi’s eyes hurt—not the kind of sting that might bring tears, but a simple physical ache, accompanied by a sense of longing and happiness.
After returning to the hotel, Wei Jiayi tossed and turned for a long time. He slept uneasily as if trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. When he woke up, he saw a message from Zhao Jing. It didn’t include a photo, only a text saying that he had arrived, was recording his statement, and that Wei Jiayi didn’t need to worry. Zhao Jing assured him that everything was under control, even adding, “There’s no problem I can’t solve.”
Wei Jiayi’s phone pushed several news notifications about Zhao Jing’s company being investigated for antitrust violations. His mood was heavy and complicated, but he still couldn’t help smiling.
Wei Jiayi had a flight to catch himself at noon. In a rush, he packed his belongings, threaded the ring onto the chain around his neck, and dragged his suitcase toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to tell Zhao Jing something. He picked up his phone, unsure of how to phrase it, but before he could start typing, another news alert popped up. It was about the CEO of Puchang Technology issuing a public statement acknowledging the ongoing antitrust investigation.
Wei Jiayi clicked on the notification and saw Zhao Jing in his office, looking energetic and confident, exuding an air of reliability. His hands were clasped together, and Wei Jiayi’s eyes fell on his left hand.
As for the necklace Wei Jiayi had given Zhao Jing, he couldn’t tell if Zhao Jing was wearing it, as it was hidden beneath his shirt and suit. But the ring was unmistakably on his ring finger.
