The shrill ring of the alarm jolted Su Wanwan awake at 6:30 a.m. She blinked groggily, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings—floor-to-ceiling windows framed snow-capped mountain peaks, a velvet armchair sat beside a marble fireplace, and the walk-in closet (larger than her old apartment) was lined with tailored suits, designer dresses, and rows of polished shoes. For a split second, she forgot where she was, until the events of last night came rushing back: the rain-soaked street, the contract, Lu Shiyan's cold yet unexpected kindness, and the weight of the title "Mrs. Lu."
She swung her legs over the bed, her feet sinking into a plush rug. The bandage on her palm—applied by Lu Shiyan's careful hands—reminded her of his brief moment of softness, a stark contrast to his usual icy demeanor. With a sigh, she stood and headed to the en-suite bathroom, where a marble countertop held a array of luxury toiletries: floral-scented shower gel, silk face masks, and a toothbrush still in its packaging. The hot water of the shower washed away the last traces of exhaustion, but it couldn't erase the nervous flutter in her chest. Today, she would officially step into the role of Lu Shiyan's wife—and his secretary.
At 6:55 a.m., she stood outside her bedroom door, wearing a simple white blouse and black slacks (the only "office-appropriate" clothes she'd brought). Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she'd applied a touch of lip balm to calm her nerves. Just as she raised her hand to knock on Lu Shiyan's door (the master suite, adjacent to hers), it swung open.
Lu Shiyan stood in the doorway, dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that fit him like a second skin. His hair was styled perfectly, his jaw clean-shaven, and his dark eyes scanned her from head to toe, a faint frown tugging at his lips. "Change," he said flatly.
Su Wanwan blinked. "What?"
"You look like a intern," he said, stepping past her. "The walk-in closet has clothes for you—size S. Lin Zhou had them delivered last night. Be downstairs in ten minutes."
Before she could respond, he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Su Wanwan stared after him, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance bubbling up. She'd thought her outfit was perfectly fine, but clearly, Lu Shiyan had different standards—standards that came with being one of the most powerful men in the city.
She hurried to the walk-in closet, her eyes widening at the sight before her. Racks of designer clothing filled the space: tailored blazers in neutral tones, silk blouses in soft pastels, pencil skirts that looked both professional and elegant, and even a few cocktail dresses. There were shoes too—low heels, loafers, pumps—all in her size. She reached for a cream-colored blazer and a light blue silk blouse, paired with black trousers that fit her perfectly. When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself: the clothes hugged her figure in all the right places, making her look polished and put-together, not the frazzled design student who'd been caught in the rain.
By 7:05 a.m., she was downstairs in the dining room. The table was set with fine china and silverware, and a chef in a white uniform stood by, ready to serve. Lu Shiyan was already seated at the head of the table, flipping through a newspaper. He glanced up as she entered, his gaze lingering for a moment before returning to the page. "Sit," he said.
Su Wanwan took a seat across from him, her hands resting nervously in her lap. The chef brought over a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and fresh fruit, along with a cup of steaming coffee. She took a small bite of toast, her eyes darting to Lu Shiyan every now and then. He ate quietly, his movements precise and controlled, as if even breakfast was a business meeting.
"After the civil affairs bureau," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, "we're going to Lu Group. You'll sit in on my 10 a.m. meeting with the board of directors. Say nothing unless I tell you to. Smile, nod, and look like you belong there."
Su Wanwan nodded, swallowing her food. "What about the secretary work? You said I'd be your secretary."
"Lin Zhou will handle the actual work," he said. "Your job is to be my 'wife-secretary'—a presence that reminds everyone I'm off the market. My grandmother has been pressuring me to get married for years, and the board thinks a stable marriage will make me 'more reliable.'" He paused, taking a sip of coffee. "It's all optics, Su Wanwan. Don't overcomplicate it."
Optics. That's all this marriage was—an image, a performance. Su Wanwan felt a twinge of disappointment, though she didn't know why. She'd agreed to this for the money, for her mother's medical bills, not for any silly romantic notions. Still, his bluntness stung.
They finished breakfast in silence. At 7:30 a.m., the Maybach pulled out of the mansion's gate, heading toward the civil affairs bureau. The ride was quiet, with Lu Shiyan on his phone, typing furiously, and Su Wanwan staring out the window at the city waking up. Skyscrapers loomed in the distance, traffic filled the streets, and people hurried to work, oblivious to the charade unfolding in the luxury car beside them.
The civil affairs bureau was surprisingly quiet for a weekday morning. Lu Shiyan's assistant, Lin Zhou, had already handled all the paperwork, so they only had to sign a few forms and take a photo. When the photographer asked them to "get closer," Lu Shiyan placed a hand on Su Wanwan's waist, his touch light but firm. She stiffened slightly, and he leaned down, his breath brushing her ear. "Relax," he whispered. "It's just a photo."
She forced a smile, leaning into him slightly. The camera flashed, capturing the image of a "perfect couple"—him tall and handsome, her elegant and smiling—hiding the truth of their three-month contract. When they received the marriage certificate, a red booklet with their photo on the front, Su Wanwan held it in her hands, her fingers tracing the edge. It felt surreal—this little book, which meant a lifetime of commitment for most people, was just a piece of paper to her and Lu Shiyan.
By 9 a.m., they arrived at Lu Group headquarters—a towering glass building in the heart of the financial district. The moment they stepped out of the Maybach, heads turned. Employees stopped what they were doing, their eyes widening as they looked at Su Wanwan, then at Lu Shiyan, then back at her. Whispers spread like wildfire, and Su Wanwan could feel their curious, judgmental gazes on her. She tightened her grip on Lu Shiyan's arm (he'd insisted she link hers through his), trying to appear calm and confident.
The elevator ride to the top floor was silent, except for the soft hum of the machinery. Lu Shiyan pressed the button for the 38th floor, his jaw set in a firm line. When the doors opened, they were greeted by a reception area with floor-to-ceiling windows and a stunning view of the city. Lin Zhou was waiting for them, holding a stack of folders.
"Mr. Lu, Mrs. Lu," he said, bowing slightly. "The board members are already in the conference room. I've prepared the meeting materials for you, and I've briefed Ms. Su on the key points she needs to know."
Lu Shiyan nodded, taking the folders from him. "Good. Let's go."
The conference room was a large, oval-shaped space with a polished mahogany table and leather chairs. Around the table sat seven men and women—all middle-aged, all dressed in expensive suits, all with the same sharp, calculating eyes that Lu Shiyan had. When Su Wanwan and Lu Shiyan entered, they fell silent, their gazes fixed on her.
"Gentlemen, ladies," Lu Shiyan said, taking his seat at the head of the table. He gestured for Su Wanwan to sit beside him. "This is my wife, Su Wanwan. She'll be joining me in some of my meetings moving forward."
A murmur ran through the room. One of the board members, a man with gray hair and a stern expression, cleared his throat. "Mr. Lu, forgive my candor, but this is highly unusual. The board meetings are confidential. We weren't informed that you'd be bringing a guest—especially not your wife."
"Mrs. Lu," Lu Shiyan corrected, his tone cold. "And she's not a guest. She's my wife, and as such, she has every right to be here. Besides, I've already reviewed the meeting agenda with her, and she's well aware of the confidentiality requirements." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the table. "Shall we begin, or would you like to waste more time discussing my personal life?"
The gray-haired man frowned but nodded. "Very well. Let's start with the quarterly earnings report."
The meeting dragged on for two hours. Su Wanwan sat quietly beside Lu Shiyan, smiling and nodding when appropriate, just as he'd told her to. She didn't understand half of what they were talking about—terms like "quarterly projections," "market share," and "merger negotiations" went over her head—but she tried to look engaged, taking notes on a pad of paper even though she had no idea what she was writing.
Every now and then, Lu Shiyan would lean over and whisper a brief explanation in her ear—"They're arguing about the budget for the new project," "That's Mr. Wang, he wants to delay the launch"—and she'd nod, pretending to understand. His closeness made her heart race, and she could smell the sandalwood scent of his cologne, the same scent that had wrapped around her the night before when he'd bandaged her hand.
When the meeting finally ended, the board members filed out of the room, most of them giving Su Wanwan a curious look as they passed. The gray-haired man, Mr. Wang, stopped beside her. "Mrs. Lu," he said, his tone polite but cold. "I hope you understand that Lu Group is a serious business. We don't tolerate distractions."
Before Su Wanwan could respond, Lu Shiyan stood up, placing a hand on her shoulder. "My wife is not a distraction, Mr. Wang," he said, his voice sharp. "In fact, she's already proven to be an asset. If you have any further concerns, you can take them up with me directly."
Mr. Wang's face turned slightly red, but he nodded and walked away. Su Wanwan let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, turning to Lu Shiyan. "Thank you," she said.
He shrugged, removing his hand from her shoulder. "I don't need my board members disrespecting my wife—even if it's a contract." He paused, looking at her. "You did well, by the way. You didn't say anything stupid."
It wasn't exactly a compliment, but Su Wanwan took it as one. She smiled faintly. "Thank you."
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Lu Shiyan showed her to her "office"—a small room adjacent to his, with a desk, a computer, and a view of the city. Lin Zhou gave her a tour of the building, introduced her to the other employees, and explained her "duties": answer the phone if it rang (which it never did), sort through Lu Shiyan's mail (mostly junk), and accompany him to any meetings or events he deemed necessary.
By 5 p.m., Su Wanwan was exhausted. She'd spent the day pretending to be someone she wasn't—someone confident, sophisticated, and capable of keeping up with Lu Shiyan's world. It was draining, both mentally and emotionally. When Lu Shiyan appeared at her office door, she jumped.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
She nodded, standing up. "Where are we going?"
"Dinner with my grandmother," he said. "She's been asking to meet you since she heard we got married."
Su Wanwan's eyes widened. "Your grandmother? Now?"
"Yes," he said, already walking down the hallway. "She lives in a villa on the outskirts of the city. We'll be there in 40 minutes. Lin Zhou has already briefed you on the key points: you're a design graduate, your parents are retired (we're not mentioning your mother's illness), and you and I met at a charity gala six months ago."
Su Wanwan hurried to keep up with him. "What if I mess up?" she asked, her voice tight.
"You won't," he said, pausing to look at her. "Just be polite, smile, and let me do the talking. Grandmother likes people who are respectful and quiet."
The drive to the villa was tense. Su Wanwan practiced her "backstory" in her head, trying to memorize every detail. She was nervous—meeting Lu Shiyan's family felt like crossing a line, like making their charade more real than it was.
When they arrived at the villa, a large, traditional Chinese-style house with a courtyard and red lanterns, an elderly woman in a silk cheongsam was waiting at the entrance. She had silver hair styled in a neat bun, and her eyes were warm and kind—nothing like Lu Shiyan's cold gaze.
"Shiyan!" she said, stepping forward to hug him. Then she turned to Su Wanwan, her eyes lighting up. "You must be Wanwan! Oh, you're even more beautiful than Shiyan described."
Su Wanwan smiled, bowing slightly. "It's nice to meet you, Grandma."
The grandmother took her hand, her grip soft and warm. "Come in, come in. I've prepared your favorite dishes, Shiyan—and I made some sweet and sour pork for you, Wanwan. Shiyan said you like it."
Su Wanwan glanced at Lu Shiyan, surprised. He'd remembered? He'd only mentioned her favorite food in passing last night, when she'd been rambling about her mother's cooking. He met her gaze, his expression neutral, as if it meant nothing.
Dinner was a warm, lively affair. The grandmother asked Su Wanwan questions about her life—her studies, her hobbies, her family—and Su Wanwan answered carefully, sticking to the story Lin Zhou had prepared. Lu Shiyan sat beside her, occasionally adding a comment or two to back up her answers, and for a moment, it felt like they were a real couple, sharing a meal with family.
After dinner, the grandmother pulled Su Wanwan aside into the courtyard. The moon was bright, casting a soft glow over the garden. "Wanwan," she said, taking her hands. "I know Shiyan is a cold man. He's been through a lot—his parents died when he was young, and he's had to take care of the company since he was 20. He doesn't know how to show his feelings, but he's a good man, deep down."
Su Wanwan nodded, listening quietly.
"I'm glad he found you," the grandmother continued. "He needs someone to soften him, someone to make him happy. You seem like a kind, gentle girl—exactly what he needs." She squeezed Su Wanwan's hands. "Promise me you'll be patient with him. Give him time to open up."
Tears pricked at the corners of Su Wanwan's eyes. She felt guilty—here was this kind old woman, trusting her with her grandson's happiness, while she was just a paid actress. But she couldn't tell the truth, not when it would break the grandmother's heart. "I promise," she said softly.
When they left the villa, it was 9 p.m. The drive back to the mansion was quiet. Su Wanwan stared out the window, thinking about the grandmother's words. Was Lu Shiyan really a good man deep down? Or was his brief moment of kindness last night just part of the act?
"You did well with Grandma," Lu Shiyan said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Su Wanwan turned to him. "Thank you. She's very kind."
He nodded. "She is. Don't disappoint her."
The words hung in the air. Su Wanwan knew he wasn't just talking about the dinner—he was talking about the contract, about their charade. But for some reason, she didn't mind. The grandmother's trust, Lu Shiyan's quiet defense of her at the board meeting, the way he'd remembered her favorite food—all of it made her feel like there was more to this marriage than just a contract.
When they arrived back at the mansion, Lu Shiyan got out of the car first, then held the door open for her. As she stepped out, her foot slipped on the wet pavement, and she stumbled forward. Lu Shiyan caught her, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close.
For a moment, they stood there, their bodies pressed together. Su Wanwan could feel his heartbeat against her chest, hear his steady breathing in her ear. The scent of his cologne surrounded her, and she found herself leaning into him, her hands resting on his shoulders.
He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes locking with hers. His gaze was intense, warmer than she'd ever seen it, and for a second, Su Wanwan thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart raced, and she held her breath.
But then he stepped back, releasing her. "Be careful," he said, his voice back to its usual cold tone. He turned and walked into the mansion, leaving Su Wanwan standing there, her cheeks burning and her heart pounding.
She followed him inside, her mind spinning. What was that moment? Was it just a reflex, or was there something more? She didn't know, but as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, she couldn't shake the feeling that their three-month contract was turning into something she hadn't expected—something real.
That night, as she lay in bed, she thought of Lu Shiyan's arms around her, of his grandmother's kind words, of the way he'd defended her. She knew she shouldn't be feeling this way—this was a business arrangement, nothing more—but she couldn't help it. Three months, she told herself again. But now, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to walk away when it was over.