The car arrived at exactly 8:45 a.m.
Black Mercedes S-Class, tinted windows, no logos. The driver, a middle-aged man in a crisp gray uniform opened the rear door without a word. I hesitated on the sidewalk outside my apartment building, clutching the small canvas tote that held everything I thought I might need: ID card, a change of clothes, the signed addendum to our "contract," and the black rose I still hadn't thrown away.
Grandma had watched me leave from the kitchen window. She hadn't asked questions after last night, just hugged me tight, pressed a small jade pendant into my palm, and whispered, "Whatever this is, A'Ying, remember who you are. Not what they pay you to be."
I'd nodded, throat too tight to speak.
Zhi Xin had been at school. I'd left him a note on the fridge: *Will be back tonight. Don't worry. Love you.* Cowardly, maybe. But I couldn't face his questions yet.
I slid into the backseat. The leather was cool against my legs. The driver closed the door softly and pulled away.
No music. No conversation. Just the quiet hum of the engine and the city sliding past in streaks of gray and neon.
We didn't go to the main Civil Affairs Bureau, the big, crowded one near Chaoyang Park. Instead, the car turned into an underground garage beneath a sleek glass tower in the CBD. Private entrance. Security scanned the plates, waved us through. An elevator waited, doors already open.
Floor 42.
The doors parted to reveal a small, elegant office: polished wood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the hazy skyline, a single long table with four chairs. No crowd. No flashing cameras. Just quiet efficiency.
Gu Jing Yu was already there.
He stood by the window, back to me, hands in his pockets. Dark suit, different from yesterday, charcoal instead of black. Tie knotted perfectly. When he turned, his expression was blank. Professional. Like this was just another board meeting.
"You're on time," he said.
"I said I would be."
He nodded once. "The officiant will be here in five minutes. Photographer too, for the record. We need proof for the probate court."
I swallowed. "Right. Proof."
A woman in a neat navy suit entered from a side door, mid-forties, calm smile, clipboard in hand. She introduced herself as Ms. Liu, the registrar.
"Mr. Gu, Miss Fan. If you'll both take a seat, we can begin shortly."
We sat across from each other at the table.
The silence stretched.
I kept my hands folded in my lap so he wouldn't see them shake.
He broke it first.
"You look… different."
I glanced down at myself. Simple white blouse, clean, ironed. Knee-length navy skirt. Low black heels. Hair pulled into a low bun. No makeup except a touch of lip balm. I'd debated wearing something fancier, but decided against it. This wasn't a wedding. It was paperwork.
"I didn't have time to shop for a bridal gown," I said dryly.
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. Almost.
"You could have used the card."
"I haven't activated it yet."
He studied me for a beat longer. "You will."
Before I could respond, the door opened again.
The photographer, young, nervous-looking, with a heavy camera around his neck, bowed slightly. Behind him came the officiant: older man, kind eyes, wearing a simple gray suit.
Ms. Liu cleared her throat. "Shall we begin?"
We stood.
The ceremony, if it could be called that was over in twelve minutes.
No vows. No rings exchanged. Just signatures.
I signed where indicated: Fan Xiao Ying.
He signed beneath me: Gu Jing Yu.
The officiant stamped the certificate. Red ink. Official.
Ms. Liu handed us each a copy, plus the original for probate.
The photographer took three photos: one of us standing side by side holding the certificate, one of our hands signing, one close-up of the stamped document.
No smiles. No posing. Just evidence.
When the shutter clicked the last time, the room exhaled.
"That concludes the registration," Ms. Liu said gently. "Congratulations."
The word hung in the air like smoke.
Gu Jing Yu inclined his head. "Thank you."
The staff left quietly.
We were alone.
I stared at the certificate in my hand. The red stamp looked like blood.
"So," I said. "We're married."
"Legally," he corrected. "For the next three hundred and sixty-five days."
I met his eyes. "And now?"
"Now we go home."
Home.
The word felt foreign in my mouth.
He gestured toward the door. "The car is waiting. We'll stop at your apartment first. You can pack what you need."
I followed him to the elevator.
The ride down was silent.
In the garage, the driver opened the door again. I slid in. Gu Jing Yu followed.
This time he sat beside me not across.
Our thighs didn't touch, but the space between us felt smaller than it should.
The car pulled out into traffic.
I stared out the window. Beijing blurred past: office towers, street vendors, bicycles weaving through cars.
After ten minutes, I spoke.
"Where is… home?"
"The Gu residence. Outskirts of Shunyi. Private compound. Secure. Quiet."
I nodded slowly. "And my things?"
"Pack what you want. The rest will be brought over later. Or replaced."
Replaced.
Like my life was something disposable.
I turned to him. "I'm not leaving Grandma and Zhi Xin behind."
His expression didn't change. "They can visit. Or stay weekends. There's a guest wing."
"And when the year is up?"
"You go back to your apartment. Or wherever you choose."
I looked away again.
The car turned onto a quieter road, leaving the city density behind.
We passed gated communities, manicured lawns, security checkpoints.
Finally, wrought-iron gates opened automatically.
A long driveway lined with cypress trees.
The house, a mansion, appeared at the end: modern lines, glass and steel, three stories, surrounded by gardens that looked too perfect to be real.
The car stopped at the front steps.
Gu Jing Yu got out first. I followed.
A woman waited at the door, late fifties, neat bun, apron over a plain dress.
"Mrs. Deng," he said. "This is Fan Xiao Ying. My… wife."
Mrs. Deng's eyes flicked to me, warm but careful. She bowed slightly. "Welcome, Madam. Your room is prepared."
Madam.
The word made my skin prickle.
Gu Jing Yu turned to me. "I have meetings until evening. Mrs. Deng will show you around. Dinner at seven. We'll discuss the next steps then."
He didn't wait for a reply just nodded to the driver and disappeared into a side corridor.
Mrs. Deng touched my elbow gently. "Come, Miss Fan. Let's get you settled."
I followed her inside.
The lobby was massive: marble floors, double-height ceiling, a chandelier that looked like frozen raindrops.
She led me up a curved staircase, down a long hallway.
My room was at the end.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden. King bed with crisp white linens. Sitting area. Walk-in closet already stocked with clothes in my size: dresses, blouses, jeans, lingerie still in tissue paper.
I stopped in the doorway.
Mrs. Deng smiled softly. "Mr. Gu had these delivered this morning. If anything doesn't fit or suit, just let me know. We can exchange."
I didn't move.
She hesitated. "Would you like tea? Or time alone?"
"Alone," I whispered.
She bowed and left, closing the door quietly.
I stood there for a long minute.
Then I crossed to the bed and sat on the edge.
The certificate was still in my hand. I smoothed it out on the comforter.
Gu Jing Yu. Fan Xiao Ying.
Husband. Wife.
I pressed my palm to my chest, feeling the rapid thud beneath my ribs.
This was real.
I was married.
To a man who looked at me like I was both the key to his freedom and the lock on his cage.
I opened my tote, pulled out the black rose.
The petals were still perfect, velvet dark, no wilting.
I placed it on the nightstand beside the certificate.
Then I stood, walked to the window, and looked out at the garden.
A fountain bubbled in the center. Stone paths wound between roses and trimmed hedges.
Somewhere below, I heard a car engine start, Gu Jing Yu leaving for his meetings.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass.
One year.
Five million.
One house.
One husband.
And one question I couldn't shake:
What happens when the contract ends… and I don't want to leave?