The wedding venue smelled like sugar and cigarettes and someone else's happiness.
Jiang Yue stepped through the entrance with a smile that had been stapled onto his face so many times this morning it barely felt attached to him anymore. Red banners hung from the ceiling. A giant "double happiness" character had been pasted behind the reception table like a stamp of approval from society itself. Relatives clustered in loud, cheerful groups, already warmed up by gossip and free tea.
He followed the flow of people toward the banquet hall, half listening to instructions and half trying to keep his suit from strangling him.
His job today was simple: stand in the right place, say the right thing, don't set anything on fire.
He could do that.
Probably.
Aunt Lin swooped in immediately, grabbing his sleeve. "Stand here. No, not there. Here. When guests arrive, greet them properly. Smile. Don't look like you want to kill someone."
Jiang Yue smiled wider. "This is my friendly face."
Aunt Lin glanced at him, unconvinced. "Fix your posture."
Jiang Yue fixed nothing and got away with it because his mother appeared, radiant in her white dress, and everyone's attention snapped to her like magnets.
She looked… unreal.
Not like the tired woman who worked late and still remembered to buy him his favorite snacks. Not like the woman who used to sit on the edge of his bed and tell him everything would be okay even when it wasn't. She looked like a bride from a poster, glowing under the venue lights, delicate and brave.
And it hit Jiang Yue, suddenly and unfairly, that today wasn't only about him losing his old life.
It was also about her choosing a new one.
He swallowed down the tightness in his throat and turned his face away before anyone could see it.
Then he saw him.
Not directly at first. Not a dramatic movie moment where the world slowed and the music changed. More like a sudden shift in the air, the way a room changes when someone important walks in.
People moved aside near the entrance. A few heads turned. Someone whispered, "That must be the groom's son."
Jiang Yue's eyes followed the line of attention like a reflex.
Wei Nianzhan walked into the banquet hall beside his father.
His father was easy to identify: middle-aged, straight-backed, the kind of man who looked like he had meetings even on weekends. He wore a dark suit and a polite smile, shaking hands with relatives as if signing contracts.
The son… was worse.
Wei Nianzhan was also in a suit, but he wore it like it belonged to him, like he'd been born already knowing where to put his hands, how to stand, how to look at people without giving them too much. His hair was neatly styled, his expression calm, his eyes sharp enough that Jiang Yue felt them before they even landed on him.
Top student type, Jiang Yue thought bitterly.
The kind of person who probably didn't even need coffee to function.
Wei spoke to an older relative, nodded, and smiled politely. It wasn't warm. It was correct. Like a line he'd practiced.
Then, as if he'd sensed Jiang Yue staring, Wei's gaze lifted.
Their eyes met across the room.
For half a second, the noise blurred.
Wei's eyes were dark and unreadable. He didn't look curious. He didn't look friendly. He looked… assessing. Like Aunt Lin's nightmare: someone who smiled and ruined your life.
Jiang Yue's smile stayed on his face out of pure spite.
He lifted his chin slightly, a silent challenge.
Wei's gaze didn't change. But something tiny shifted at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile. More like acknowledgment.
Then Wei looked away, as if Jiang Yue had already been categorized and filed.
Jiang Yue's teeth ground together.
Oh.
He hated him already.
The ceremony started soon after. There were speeches, applause, a red carpet that felt too bright, too public. Jiang Yue stood where he was told, clapped when everyone clapped, smiled when cameras turned his way.
He watched his mother walk down the aisle and tried not to think about the word "family" being redefined in front of him.
Wei Nianzhan stood on the other side, near his father, hands clasped neatly. He didn't fidget. He didn't look bored. He looked like he'd volunteered to be there.
When the officiant asked if anyone objected, Jiang Yue almost laughed out loud.
Not because he wanted to object.
Because he could imagine doing it. Standing up, raising his hand, saying: Actually, I'd like to file a complaint.
But his mother's face was soft with happiness, and Jiang Yue's chest tightened again. He stayed still.
They exchanged rings. They kissed. The room erupted in cheers.
His mother became someone's wife.
And Jiang Yue became someone's son.
After the ceremony, the banquet began. Tables filled. Plates piled. People drank like the purpose of weddings was to see who could embarrass themselves fastest.
Jiang Yue ended up seated with his mother, his new stepfather, and—unfortunately—Wei Nianzhan.
The seating arrangement felt deliberate, like the universe had also been invited and had chosen violence.
Jiang Yue sat down, smiled at the relatives around them, and immediately felt Wei's presence like a weight across the table.
Wei poured tea for his father, then for Jiang Yue's mother, then—after a brief pause—for Jiang Yue.
The tea cup appeared in front of Jiang Yue with perfect steadiness.
Wei's voice was polite. "Tea."
Jiang Yue stared at the cup like it was suspicious. Then he looked up at Wei. "Wow. You can be useful."
Wei's expression didn't change. "Sometimes."
His mother shot Jiang Yue a warning look.
Jiang Yue smiled sweetly at her. He was behaving. He was just… seasoning the conversation.
As the banquet continued, relatives rotated through to toast the bride and groom. Each toast came with compliments, advice, and the occasional sharp-edged joke.
Aunt Lin approached their table with a glass of wine, cheeks flushed.
"Xueqing, Chengyu, congratulations," she gushed. "You two look perfect together. Such a good match."
"Thank you," Jiang Yue's mother said, smiling.
Aunt Lin's gaze flicked to Wei. "And Nianzhan, you're such a good boy. Handsome, polite, excellent student. Your father must be so proud."
Wei nodded. "Thank you, Auntie."
Then Aunt Lin's eyes slid to Jiang Yue, and her smile sharpened. "And Jiang Yue. You also look… handsome today."
Jiang Yue smiled back. "Thank you. I worked hard to become tolerable."
Aunt Lin laughed, loud. "Aiya. You always have a mouth."
Wei's gaze shifted, just slightly, landing on Jiang Yue.
Not disapproval.
Not amusement either.
More like… interest.
Jiang Yue didn't know why that annoyed him even more than contempt would've.
Aunt Lin lifted her glass again. "Now that you're a family, you boys must get along. No fighting. Nianzhan, you're older or younger?"
Wei answered, "Same age."
Aunt Lin clapped her hands. "Same age! Even better. You can study together. Nianzhan can help Jiang Yue. Jiang Yue, you must listen to him, understand? He's the good student."
Jiang Yue's smile stayed in place while something sharp twisted in his stomach.
Wei's hand paused with his chopsticks.
A beat passed.
Wei said calmly, "I don't think Jiang Yue needs help."
Aunt Lin blinked. "What?"
Wei's gaze didn't move. "He seems capable."
It was… almost a defense.
Not warm. Not friendly. But it wasn't the usual adult narrative of Jiang Yue as a problem either.
Jiang Yue's chest tightened in a confusing way.
He immediately ruined it.
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. "Don't worry, Aunt Lin. If he tries to help me study, I'll teach him how to have a personality."
His mother hissed quietly, "Jiang Yue."
Wei's eyes met Jiang Yue's again.
This time, the corner of Wei's mouth did move, barely, like he was suppressing something.
Then he looked down and continued eating.
Jiang Yue felt weirdly victorious.
The banquet dragged on for hours. Jiang Yue endured endless toasts and endless forced smiles. By the time the final dish was served, his face hurt from pretending.
When it finally ended, guests began to leave in loud clusters, still talking, still judging, still congratulating.
Jiang Yue's mother was pulled into photo after photo. His stepfather was surrounded by colleagues and relatives. Wei was helping pack gifts and escort elders politely to cars like a professional assistant.
Jiang Yue hovered near the edge, half relieved and half restless.
Xu Zhe texted him: How's the final boss?
Jiang Yue typed back: Annoying. Too calm. Might be a robot.
Then he paused.
He added: But he defended me once. So maybe a robot with a glitch.
Xu Zhe replied immediately: Oh? You blushing?
Jiang Yue: Shut up.
He shoved his phone away and went to find his mother.
She was in the bridal room, finally sitting down, heels off, face flushed from exhaustion. When she saw Jiang Yue, her smile softened.
"You did well today," she said, sincere.
Jiang Yue shrugged. "I didn't commit any crimes."
"That counts," she laughed softly, then sighed. "Are you okay?"
Jiang Yue looked at her. She looked tired. Happy, but tired. He could see the weight of the day settling on her shoulders.
He swallowed. "Yeah."
She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," she repeated quietly, like she needed him to hear it again.
Jiang Yue squeezed back once, quick, then released. "Let's go home," he said.
Home.
The word felt wrong now. Like it belonged to a place that no longer existed.
They returned to the apartment late in the evening. The relatives were gone, thank god. The living room was a mess of leftover decorations and boxes.
The silence after the chaos felt almost loud.
Wei Chengyu carried bags in, efficient. Jiang Yue's mother—now Mrs. Wei, technically, which made Jiang Yue want to crawl out of his skin—set her bouquet down carefully like it was fragile.
Wei Nianzhan walked in last, holding a box of gifts and a stack of envelopes.
He set them down without a word and immediately started sorting them, because of course he did.
Jiang Yue dropped onto the sofa like a dead body. "So," he said, voice rough with exhaustion. "Is this when you announce the new house rules?"
Wei didn't look up. "There are already rules."
Jiang Yue laughed. "Of course there are."
His mother gave them both a warning glance. "No fighting," she said, tired but firm.
Wei Chengyu cleared his throat. "We should talk," he said. "About… living arrangements."
Jiang Yue straightened slightly, bracing.
Wei Chengyu continued, tone calm. "We're a family now. That means we respect each other. We support each other. And we don't create unnecessary trouble."
His eyes flicked to Jiang Yue for half a second.
Jiang Yue smiled sweetly. "I'm allergic to trouble," he said.
Wei Chengyu ignored him, either because he had self-control or because he'd already decided not to waste energy. "You both are in your final year. Your priority is studying. We'll keep the house quiet. No late nights out without telling us. No distractions."
Jiang Yue opened his mouth.
His mother's hand landed lightly on his arm, a silent plea.
He closed it again, jaw tight.
Wei Chengyu looked at Wei Nianzhan. "Nianzhan, you've always been responsible. Help set a good example."
Wei nodded. "Yes."
Jiang Yue felt a flare of irritation. Of course Wei said yes. Of course he didn't argue. Of course he accepted the role of Perfect Son like it was a uniform.
Jiang Yue couldn't help himself.
"So you're the deputy head of household now?" he asked, voice dripping. "Congratulations."
Wei finally looked up.
His eyes met Jiang Yue's, steady and unreadable.
"I'm not interested," Wei said calmly.
Jiang Yue blinked. "Not interested in what."
Wei's gaze flicked briefly toward the hallway, toward the rooms, toward the walls that now contained all of them. Then back to Jiang Yue.
"In controlling you," Wei said.
The words were flat. Almost bored.
But there was something underneath them that made Jiang Yue's skin prickle, like a warning.
Jiang Yue scoffed. "Good. Because if you try, I'll ruin your life."
Wei's expression didn't change. "You can try."
The air between them tightened like a wire.
Jiang Yue's mother inhaled sharply. "Enough," she said, voice strained. "Both of you."
Wei Chengyu sighed. He looked older suddenly. "Let's not start like this," he said, tired. "Everyone is exhausted."
He glanced at Jiang Yue's mother. "Xueqing, go rest."
She nodded, rubbing her temple. "I will. You boys… please. Just for tonight."
She walked toward the bedroom.
Wei Chengyu followed, carrying some bags, leaving the two of them in the living room with the silence.
Jiang Yue sat back on the sofa, arms crossed, staring at the mess of red decorations like they were mocking him.
Wei returned to sorting envelopes, methodical.
For a while, neither spoke.
Jiang Yue couldn't stand it.
He hated quiet more than arguments, because quiet gave his thoughts room to grow teeth.
He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling again. "So," he said lazily, "what's it like being perfect all the time."
Wei didn't look up. "Tiring."
Jiang Yue blinked.
That… wasn't the answer he expected.
He turned his head, studying Wei's profile. Under the warm living room light, Wei looked less like a robot and more like… a person. A person who had been holding himself together all day for everyone else.
Jiang Yue's irritation flickered into something else.
He immediately smothered it.
"You chose this," Jiang Yue said. "You could've told your dad not to remarry."
Wei's hand paused.
The smallest pause. Like a glitch.
Then Wei continued sorting envelopes. "It wasn't my decision," he said.
Jiang Yue scoffed. "Everything is your decision. You probably decided what time you were born."
Wei's eyes lifted.
For a second, something flashed across his face. Not anger exactly. More like… fatigue sharp enough to cut.
And then Wei spoke, the words slipping out before he could smooth them.
"You think I wanted this?"
Silence.
Jiang Yue stared at him.
Wei's expression tightened immediately, like he'd realized what he'd revealed. His gaze dropped back to the envelopes.
"I meant," Wei added, voice colder, "it doesn't matter what I want."
There it was.
The almost slip.
The crack in the perfect surface.
Jiang Yue's chest tightened again, confusing and unwanted.
He tried to laugh it off. "Wow," he said. "So deep. Should I write that on a poster."
Wei didn't respond.
Jiang Yue stared at him, restless. He wanted to press. He wanted to poke at the crack until it opened, because if Wei could bleed too, maybe Jiang Yue wouldn't feel so alone in this new life.
But he also didn't want to admit he cared.
So he stood up abruptly. "Whatever," he said. "I'm going to bed."
Wei finally looked up again. "Your room is the one on the left," he said.
Jiang Yue froze. "I know where my room is."
Wei's gaze was steady. "Your mother said she wanted to rearrange things. The room on the left is bigger. She thought you might want it."
Jiang Yue stared at him.
Rearrange things.
Even his room.
Even his territory.
The anger rose, hot and fast.
"I don't want charity," Jiang Yue snapped.
Wei's expression didn't change. "It's not charity."
"What is it then," Jiang Yue demanded. "A peace offering?"
Wei's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's a room."
Jiang Yue's laugh was sharp. "Everything is 'just' something with you, isn't it. Just a room. Just a wedding. Just a new family."
Wei's gaze held his. "And everything is a fight with you."
Jiang Yue took a step forward, too close. "Because if I stop fighting," he said, voice low, "I disappear."
The words came out before he could stop them.
Jiang Yue's own mouth snapped shut, shocked by himself.
Wei's eyes flicked over his face, something unreadable tightening in them.
For a second, the wire between them vibrated.
Then Wei looked away first, jaw tense. "Go to sleep," he said.
Jiang Yue stood there a beat longer, pulse loud in his ears.
Then he turned and walked down the hallway toward the left room—the bigger room, the "new" room—and slammed the door behind him harder than necessary.
He leaned against it, breathing.
The room smelled unfamiliar. Like new paint and someone else's choices.
Jiang Yue closed his eyes.
New house rules, he thought bitterly.
Rule one: don't show weakness.
Rule two: don't trust anyone.
Rule three: don't let Wei Nianzhan see you disappear.
Outside the door, the apartment settled into uneasy silence.
And somewhere down the hallway, Wei Nianzhan sat alone in the living room, sorting envelopes like he could organize his life into neat piles if he tried hard enough.