Han Ziyue sat in the dimly lit room, waiting for the man who was to become her husband. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood, and somewhere far off, water trickled, perhaps from a fountain outside.
The man was never meant for her. He had been betrothed to her stepsister, Han Meilin until everything changed. Shen Zhenyu… the infamous Third Master of the Shen family.
The Shen family was no ordinary household; they were the family that held sway over nearly every major industry in the country, a dynasty of wealth and power.
Rumors about Shen Zhenyu painted him as a monster. They called him a lunatic—violent, unpredictable, and hideously disfigured. Some claimed he was an old man, though no one seemed to agree on just how old. As his title implied, he was the third in line to inherit the Shen family's fortune.
He had been married three times before. Two wives were said to have died under mysterious circumstances; the third had vanished without a trace.
Her stepsister, Han Meilin had been so desperate to escape the marriage that she had attempted suicide. In the aftermath, the family turned their eyes to Han Ziyue.
Earlier that day, her stepmother, Su Kexin, had cornered her in the Han family's living room, fingers digging into her arm, her voice a mixture of pleading and cold command.
"Han Ziyue, you should be grateful for the help the Han family has given you and your grandmother all these years. If not for us, you both would have starved to death or lived like beggars in the streets. This is your chance to repay our kindness."
Su Kexin's lips curled into a sneer. "The Shen family is the most powerful in the country, and Third Master Shen is a man far beyond your reach. With your status, you're not even worthy to kiss his feet. And yet here you are, being given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. What more could you possibly want?"
Her voice sharpened. "Think of your grandmother. Think of yourself. Do you want to watch her die?"
Then came the final blow. "If you refuse to marry Third Master Shen, the Han family will stop paying your grandmother's medical bills."
At that moment, Han Ziyue's heart turned cold.
The argument ended with her being taken straight to the hospital.
She was ushered into the sterile, too-bright room she knew far too well.
The smell of antiseptic hit her first, then the sight of the stainless steel tray lined with syringes.
"Roll up your sleeve," the nurse said.
She obeyed silently. This wasn't the first time.
…
When she was three, her mother had married into the Han family, and she became the stepdaughter of that wealthy household. But by the time she was five, her mother was gone, killed in a fatal car accident.
Her stepfather, Han Mingyuan, remarried soon after. His new wife, Su Kexin, brought with her a daughter of her own, Han Meilin, the apple of their eye. Han Meilin was Su Kexin and Han Mingyuan's biological child, cherished and protected, while Han Ziyue…
To the outside world, Han Ziyue was the enviable young lady of the Han family, basking in wealth and privilege. But in truth, she only had the Han family name, she was nothing more than Han Meilin's walking blood bank. They shared the same rare panda blood type, and that made her valuable in only one way.
She was a Han in name only. There had never been love for her in that house.
But survival left no room for pride. If not for herself, then for her ailing grandmother, she had to endure.
…
Her gaze dropped to the dense scatter of needle marks marring her arm. Her small hand curled into a tight fist.
She had overheard the doctor warning that one more blood draw could put her life in danger.
Didn't Third Master Shen have power? Influence? The kind of authority that could shield her?
Fine. She would use it. She would wield the title of Mrs. Shen like a weapon.
Let's see whose life turns out harder.
A thin, gurgling note escaped her stomach,embarrassingly loud in the silence.
Shen Ziyue couldn't help but curl up on the bed, her face pale.
She was sent her directly after transfusing blood to Han Meilin and she hadn't eaten anything. She felt dizzy from the hunger and held on tightly to the bedsheet.
"Is anyone there?" She didn't have the strength to leave the room so she called out, "Please, is anyone there?"
It was unfortunate that no one answered her.
Hungry and desperate, she drew what little strength she had, got up and quietly searched for the way to the kitchen so she could find something to eat.
In the darkness, she felt her way forward, fingertips brushing the rough wall in the dark. Just as she opened the fridge when a sudden glare swept through the window, the security light had flicked on outside.
The burst of brightness made her flinch and she almost screamed out loud in fear.
Through the window, a tall figure stood by the pool.
Her eyes widened. The man's hand was stretching toward the water.
Was he about to jump?
Her stomach lurched. The only thought that slammed into her mind was that he was about to end his life!!
…
By the pool, Shen Zhenyu was struggling to retrieve a string that fell into the water. Just as he was about to grab it, he was suddenly grabbed from begin and pulled back.
"Who's there?"
Startled, he spoke in a low, hoarse tone that carried a chill sharp enough to raise goosebumps.
Before he could finish his sentence, he had already acted swiftly.
Han Ziyue hadn't even processed the danger when a cold, large hand closed around her throat.
"Let go of me!"
Her breath caught, the world narrowing to the crushing grip. Panic surged. She clawed at his wrist, using every scrap of strength to break free.
"I just wanted to save you…" Her words came out in ragged gasps. "It's better to live than to die. Don't give up…"
She hadn't meant to get involved, but there was no one else in this villa except him.
If he died, she knew exactly who the police would look at first.
"Are you regretting it?"
At the sound of his low, cold voice, the grip on her throat eased.
Han Ziyue sucked in a ragged breath, her lungs burning. A chill ran down her spine, and she realized her back was damp with cold sweat.
She lifted her gaze and instinctively stepped back. Against the light, the man's figure loomed tall and straight, dressed head to toe in black, his face lost to shadow.
Han Ziyue couldn't see his facial expression, only a silhouette, so she didn't know that he was dangerously staring at her.
Breathless and nodding, she said, "Yeah, I saw it just now. If I hadn't pulled you up, you would have fallen."
Her hair was disheveled, and the messy hair covered most of her face, but her big, round eyes were exceptionally bright at this moment.
Shen Zhenyu's gaze was icy, though a faint trace of amusement curled in his voice.
"So… you saved me?"
Han Ziyue shook her head quickly, every muscle on guard.
"I wouldn't dare. Just… don't die here."
But he didn't move.
Straightening, Han Ziyue studied him and the realization struck. The man was young. Handsome, with sharp features that caught the light, and a presence so strong it pressed against her like a physical weight.
When he had choked her just now, she had clearly felt the dangerous aura emanating from him, as well as the bone-chilling coldness that had spread throughout her body.
Fear made her think she was going to die at his hands.
"Are you the bodyguard here?"
Rumor had it that Third Master Shen was an old and ugly man, so if someone appeared here in the middle of the night, besides Third Master Shen, it could only be his bodyguard.
Shen Zhenyu seemed to be stunned for a moment, looking at her face, raising his eyebrows and asking, "And who are you?"
Han Ziyue was about to speak but hesitated for a moment, feeling nervous. "I... I am Third Master's fiancée."
Shen Zhenyu suddenly chuckled, meaningfully saying, "Oh, it's you."
Han Ziyue felt there was something off about his laughter. A chill crawled up her spine, and she feared that if she lingered, she might let slip the truth about being nothing more than a substitute bride. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Her fingers clenched the fabric of her clothes, knuckles whitening, as a shiver ran through her body.
Shen Zhenyu watched her retreating figure, his gaze unreadable. Almost absently, his hand drifted to his left wrist, where a string used to rest. It was gone now, lost somewhere in the depths of the pool.
"My fiancée?" he murmured, his lips curling into a faint, inscrutable smile.
…
Upstairs in the villa, in the study, warm lamplight spilled over dark rosewood shelves and the faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.
Shen Zhenyu's well-defined hand picked up his phone, his movements steady yet deliberate.
"Chen Xiang," his voice was low and deep, "find out how many daughters the Han family has."
In his other hand, water dripped steadily from the red string he had retrieved from the pool. On the desk lay a neatly arranged dossier bearing the name Han Meilin, his supposed fiancée. But the girl he had just encountered was nothing like the one described in the file.
On the phone, Chen Xiang said, "Third Master, Han Mingyuan only has one biological daughter and a stepdaughter from his first marriage, named Han Ziyue."
Shen Zhenyu paused, stroking the red rope in his hand. "Investigate her."
Soon, information about Han Ziyue appeared in Shen Zhenyu's hands.
Han Ziyue's photo was on the front page.
When Shen Zhenyu saw the photo, he was stunned.
Han Ziyue.
In the photo, her complexion was almost translucent, as if she had not seen the sun in years. Yet the delicacy of her features drew the eye, soft lines, a graceful nose, and large, clear almond eyes that seemed to hold starlight. They were bright, not with innocence, but with a quiet defiance, as though she had been staring down fate her entire life.
Her hair, uneven and brittle, was a dull, malnourished blonde, the strands ragged and messy, as if a dog had chewed on it and left its mark.
Shen Zhenyu's grip on the paper tightened.
Han Ziyue.
Han Ziyue.
It was her.
At the sight of her face, Shen Zhenyu's pupils contracted. Then, slowly, a rare smile of satisfaction curved his lips.
"Where is she?"
Two minutes later, Chen Xiang's voice came through the phone.
"Third Master, Miss Han has a fever and can't be woken up. Should we take her to the hospital?"
"Call the doctor immediately," Shen Zhenyu ordered without hesitation.
Without another word, he turned and strode upstairs toward Han Ziyue's room.
He sat down, frowning as his gaze locked on the girl who was incoherent. Even in sleep, her brows were drawn tightly together, her long eyelashes trembling like the wings of a startled butterfly, her small body curled in on itself.
"She had a fever, didn't she? Why is she like this?" Shen Zhenyu's cold voice cut through the air.
The doctor hurried to explain, "This young lady has severe anemia, coupled with malnutrition, so she should be…"
Before the doctor could finish, Han Ziyue murmured faintly, "Hungry…"
Shen Zhenyu's brow furrowed deeper, a dangerous chill radiating from his body.
The Han family.
Damn it.