A Marriage Proposal Born from Stanning

[Baby, I contacted the studio, but they haven’t replied yet.

Let’s wait a bit longer.

Maybe they’ll make a move after some time.]

[Baby, I don’t know either.

I contacted several fan-site admins earlier, but none of them have photographed Brother Qiao this past year.

I’m anxious too, but anxiety doesn’t help.

Brother Qiao has been living this semi-retired life since the year before last.

Maybe he has something important to do. Let’s be patient.]

[No news yet. Let’s wait.]

…

“Click.”

It was 2:30 a.m.

The sealed bedroom was pitch-dark, save for the faint glow of a phone screen lighting up intermittently in the center of the room.

With the sound of a switch, the crystal chandelier and warm recessed lights turned on at once, flooding the bedroom with light as bright as day.

The bedroom was about fifty square meters.

Several massive posters covered the walls.

Each poster featured the same man.

He wore a soft white sweater suitable for lounging at home.

His smile was gentle and warm.

Even when magnified by a high-definition camera, his facial features were flawless.

He was so strikingly handsome that he barely seemed human.

Beneath every poster was a handwritten autograph.

The three characters “Qiao Zhinian” were written in an elegant semi-cursive script.

Each stroke flowed like a wandering dragon or a gliding serpent, brimming with strength and grace.

It wasn’t just posters.

The floor and dresser were covered with countless exquisite photo cards and cotton dolls.

Every photo card was sealed tightly in a shimmering protective sleeve.

Each cotton doll was vacuum-packed in a transparent dustproof box and stacked against the wall.

There were so many that an entire wall was filled with doll boxes.

It almost looked less like a fangirl’s bedroom and more like a cotton-doll retailer’s warehouse.

The only place free of photo cards and dolls was the pink French-style bed in the center of the room.

Wen Xi was lying face-down on the bed, sunk in depression.

It was the height of summer.

She wore only a white slip nightdress that clung softly to her skin.

Because of her posture, the chandelier’s light fell directly onto her exposed back.

Her back was slender, snow-white skin stretching over delicate butterfly bones.

Under the light, her frame looked exquisitely fine and beautiful beyond words.

At that moment, Wen Xi repeatedly tapped through the pinned chats at the top of her WeChat.

She stared intently at the same few messages, rereading them over and over.

After a few seconds, she let out a breath, rolled onto her back, and tossed her phone aside.

Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes stared gloomily at the chandelier above.

Buzz.

The phone vibrated again at the edge of the bed.

Wen Xi stretched out her arm to grab it and glanced at the screen.

The message was from her online fangirl friend, Jiang Yin.

Jiang Yin was not her real-life friend.

They knew each other solely because of Qiao Zhinian.

Jiang Yin’s family strictly forbade her from stanning celebrities.

Yet she was just as obsessed with Qiao Zhinian as Wen Xi.

She could only stan him secretly.

They truly connected two years ago at one of Qiao Zhinian’s offline events.

Unable to attend in person, Jiang Yin searched online for someone to take photos on her behalf for a fee.

Wen Xi happened to see the post and volunteered to do it for free.

She even went the extra mile and helped Jiang Yin get a handwritten autograph from Qiao Zhinian.

She mailed everything to her together.

Receiving an unexpected autograph from her idol, Jiang Yin was overjoyed.

From then on, the two chatted endlessly.

Over the following year, whenever Wen Xi attended Qiao Zhinian’s offline events, she would主动 bring merchandise back for Jiang Yin.

She was enthusiastic and generous.

Every gift she brought was carefully chosen, never perfunctory.

After nearly two years, Jiang Yin regarded her as a confidante.

Wen Xi felt the same way.

After all, finding a fangirl partner you truly click with was no easy thing.

When Wen Xi messaged other major fans earlier, she had also poked the night-owl Jiang Yin.

That was why Jiang Yin came to comfort her.

Jiang Yin: [“Don’t be so anxious. Isn’t this Brother Qiao’s normal state?

He’s not like those restless young male celebrities in the industry.

If he hasn’t appeared publicly for so long, there must be a reason.

He’s probably doing something big, preparing to surprise us.

Don’t overthink it. Keep a calm mindset. Go to sleep early.”]

Wen Xi couldn’t sleep at all.

She hadn’t had any news about Qiao Zhinian for over a year.

Her gaze drifted to the giant poster on the wall.

Her idol, Qiao Zhinian.

Currently the hottest and most undisputed triple-crown Best Actor in the entertainment industry.

Fifteen years in the profession.

Famous for twelve of them.

Unparalleled looks.

An exceptionally good temperament.

Impeccable character.

The only male celebrity Wen Xi had loved since her first year of high school.

But after winning the Feitian Award the year before last and sweeping every prestigious industry accolade, he entered a semi-retired state.

He would often disappear from the public eye for three or four months.

Sometimes even half a year.

He never relied on fans or marketing.

He didn’t care about popularity or traffic.

He chose scripts based on fate.

If one appealed to him, he’d take it.

If none did, he’d rather rest for one or two years than join a production carelessly.

Not joining productions was one thing.

By nature, he disliked appearing in public without reason.

He hated crowded commercial events.

Years ago, he had deactivated his Weibo account.

His schedule depended entirely on what the studio posted.

He didn’t use overseas platforms.

He never bought meaningless trending topics to stay visible like other celebrities.

When he wasn’t filming, the studio became practically decorative.

He was like a fish leaping into the ocean.

Vanishing without a trace.

After two years of adjustment—or rather, fan self-discipline—fans had long adapted to his operating style.

Wen Xi had grown used to it too.

But this year was different.

Qiao Zhinian had been absent from the public eye for over a year.

No offline events. No new endorsements. No magazine shoots. No public schedules of any kind.

Before this, his longest disappearance had only been six months.

A few days ago, fans in the super-topic caused an uproar and pushed his name onto trending searches.

Fans demanded that Qiao Zhinian show himself.

Left with no choice, the studio posted a screenshot of a private WeChat chat with him.

He replied with a single sentence: “I’m busy with personal matters.”

The fans were barely appeased.

Wen Xi was not satisfied by that screenshot.

She wanted to see Qiao Zhinian.

At the very least, she wanted a fresh promotional photo.

Yet for an entire year, the studio’s Weibo had been recycling old content.

The same photo shoots from last year, over and over.

The watermarks were practically worn smooth.

And with no rumors or news about him online all year, Wen Xi felt deeply unsettled.

She was a little worried something had happened to him.

That the agency was hiding it to avoid backlash.

After all, that chat screenshot was perfunctory.

Aside from the studio, no one could confirm whether the person replying was really Qiao Zhinian.

That was why she couldn’t sleep tonight.

She contacted several major fans on WeChat, trying to get even the slightest new information.

All in vain.

“Hah…”

Wen Xi rolled over again.

Her porcelain-white face pressed halfway into the pillow as she replied to Jiang Yin.

[I don’t care. Even if I have to go through fire and blades, I’m getting Brother Qiao’s latest news.]

A few seconds later, Jiang Yin replied:

[Figured I couldn’t stop you. Then good luck! Use your money powers.

Those of us with the will but not the means will wait for the good news you bring back for the Rice Cakes.]

Wen Xi tossed her phone aside.

Her small face scrunched into a bun.

She had talked big, but in truth she had no clue what to do.

She couldn’t become a sasaeng fan.

She couldn’t hire private investigators to stalk her idol.

Both were despicable behaviors.

As a true fan, Wen Xi would never do such things.

She spent the entire night brainstorming how to legitimately obtain Qiao Zhinian’s latest news.

She finally drifted into sleep after five in the morning.

She slept until past noon.

What woke her was a call from her father.

Groggily, Wen Xi answered.

She heard her father ask, “Where are you now?”

She jolted awake, sat up, scrambled off the bed to find her slippers.

Feeling guilty, she said softly, “I overslept, didn’t I, Dad? I’m on my way. Please wait a bit.”

Wen Junru didn’t get angry.

He only reminded her, “Take it slow on the road. Don’t rush and get into an accident.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.”

She hung up, washed her face, threw on a new dress, and rushed downstairs.

She jumped into the car and sped to the hotel.

The doorman opened the door for her.

She rushed inside like a gust of wind, heading straight for the elevators.

Because she stayed up too late, her mind had been full of thoughts about her idol.

She had completely forgotten about the once-a-month family gathering.

Her family situation was complicated.

When she was twelve, her parents’ relationship broke down and they divorced.

She stayed with her father.

At the time, his career was taking off.

He traveled constantly, domestic and abroad, unable to care for her personally.

So he arranged for a live-in nanny to handle her daily life.

Perhaps out of guilt for not being there, Wen Junru was extremely generous with money.

In middle school, her monthly allowance already reached six figures.

In high school, it only increased.

Later, as his business expanded and stabilized, Wen Junru—still young, handsome, wealthy, and single—naturally found his emotional life settling as well.

Half a year after the divorce, he married a woman he admired, who was also divorced.

A year later, they had twins—a boy and a girl.

Even so, Wen Junru never neglected Wen Xi.

He continued to provide large monthly expenses for her caregiver.

Her stepmother never interfered.

Wen Xi’s standard of living never declined.

She simply didn’t live with them.

Afraid that distance would estrange them, Wen Junru set aside one day each month for a father-daughter gathering.

No matter how busy he was, he always showed up on time.

Wen Xi cherished these meetings.

She had never been late before.

Today was the first time.

“Hello, sixth floor!”

An elevator attendant was inside.

Wen Xi hurried in, called out the floor number, then finally took a moment to tidy her clothes and hair in the mirror.

The attendant pressed the button and stood quietly.

In the quiet afternoon, only the two of them were inside.

She could see the young woman clearly in the mirror.

A typical rich young lady’s aura.

An expensive blue-and-white satin lace dress wrapped around her slender frame.

She was slightly out of breath.

One hand held a small purse.

The other adjusted her messy bangs and hair from running.

The bangs were stubborn.

She bit her lip in annoyance.

Then she remembered something.

She pulled out a logo-heavy hair clip and casually pinned all her bangs to the side.

Her face was fully revealed under the elevator lights.

The attendant had seen many beautiful women.

Yet this face still surprised her.

An oval face.

Doe-like eyes.

Snow-white skin.

Pitch-black pupils.

Beautifully pure to an almost excessive degree.

“Ding.”

The elevator arrived.

The attendant snapped back to herself and held the door open.

“Miss, we’ve arrived. Please watch your step.”

“Thank you!”

Wen Xi walked out briskly.

Near the private dining rooms, she slowed down.

She took out a small mirror, checked her face, hair, and outfit.

Only then did she push the door open.

“Dad—”

The cheerful note at the end of her voice cut short.

There was another woman in the room.

The woman was young.

She wore a pale yellow dress made of high-quality fabric.

Her makeup was refined.

She sat elegantly beside Wen Junru.

It was her father’s second wife, Jiang Youyi.

Wen Xi reined in her tone.

She coughed lightly and walked in gracefully.

“Stepmom.”

Jiang Youyi usually didn’t attend gatherings meant only for father and daughter.

Wen Xi didn’t ask.

She sat down and looked toward her father.

Wen Junru was on the phone.

He nodded at her, signaling her to look at the menu.

Jiang Youyi leaned slightly toward her and explained softly, “Xixi, I was handling some work at the hotel earlier and ran into your father.

He invited me to join you for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

Wen Xi shook her head gently and smiled.

“You’re busy with work. I rarely get to eat with you. I’m actually happy we ran into each other today.”

Jiang Youyi was thirty-seven this year.

Between her age and careful maintenance, her appearance was deceptively youthful.

She could easily pass for twenty-five or twenty-six.

She was not only young but intelligent.

She was the editor-in-chief of the well-known M·S fashion magazine.

Beauty and career combined.

It was natural that her father favored her.

Jiang Youyi smiled and patted Wen Xi’s hand.

“You really know how to talk. I love chatting with you.”

“Have you ordered yet?” Wen Junru asked after ending his call.

“I’m still looking,” Wen Xi replied while scanning the menu.

Jiang Youyi turned back to talk with Wen Junru.

Wen Xi quietly let out a breath and focused on ordering.

“One black truffle wagyu rice pot. One mountain mushroom chicken soup. And sweet-and-sour spare ribs…”

After ordering, she closed the menu.

Her father was still chatting.

She didn’t interrupt.

She picked up her jasmine tea and took a sip.

While sipping, she pulled out her phone, planning to message more fan-site admins.

Thanks to years of being on the front lines of Qiao Zhinian’s business activities, her contact list was packed with major fans and site masters.

Before she could scroll to the admins who mutually followed the studio on Weibo, several familiar keywords drifted into her ears.

Her movements stopped instantly.

Wen Junru said casually, “Ever since the Jiang family’s eldest son became a monk, all the responsibility has fallen on the second son.

What’s his name again? Jiang Jibai?”

Jiang Youyi replied, “Yes. Jiang Jibai.

He’s young, but very decisive.

He didn’t want to inherit the family’s stable real estate business.

Instead, he took over the entertainment company his brother managed before leaving.

It’s a sizable company. Our magazine works with them often. Fangke Entertainment.”

Wen Junru nodded.

“I’ve met Jiang Guangnian a few times. The Jiang family is full of strong-willed people.

But I actually admire Jiang Jibai. Young, ambitious, smart.

Only twenty-five or twenty-six, yet already a doctoral graduate from Ning University.

He’ll definitely have a place in the business world.

Jiang Guangnian is fortunate to have such an outstanding son.”

Jiang Youyi said, “He really is impressive.

But recently, whenever I have afternoon tea with friends, I keep hearing rumors that the Jiang parents are trying to set him up with women.

They’re determined to have him married and registered before his twenty-seventh birthday.”

Wen Junru replied, “That’s only natural.

They already have one son who became a monk at twenty-seven.

If the second son follows that path, Jiang Guangnian would probably go gray overnight.”

Jiang Youyi paused briefly.

“If we could become related to the Jiang family, it would benefit us too.

Jiang Jibai has a bright future. He might even take the Jiang family further. You met my cousin last time—”

Wen Xi stopped listening.

Every word had already entered her ears.

Her mind automatically extracted two critical facts.

First.

The Jiang family’s second son had taken over Fangke Entertainment, Qiao Zhinian’s agency.

Second.

The Jiang family’s second son was being pressured into marriage.

Sleep-deprived as she was, Wen Xi’s mind was unusually clear.

Or unusually impulsive.

A thought—not entirely good, but not entirely bad—flooded her brain.

She stood up abruptly.

The chair scraped lightly against the carpet.

Both Wen Junru and Jiang Youyi looked over.

“What’s wrong?” Wen Junru asked.

Wen Xi held her phone and blinked.

“I need to use the restroom, Dad.”

“Go ahead.”

She left the private room.

She didn’t go to the restroom.

Instead, she hurried to the small balcony at the end of the corridor.

The balcony was open-air.

Warm summer air rushed into the chilled hallway.

Ignoring the heat, Wen Xi stopped, opened WeChat, found Jiang Yin’s chat, and called her.

“Hello—”

Before Jiang Yin could say anything else, Wen Xi spoke excitedly.

“Yinyin, I know how to get Brother Qiao’s latest news legitimately!!!”

Jiang Yin was confused but equally excited.

“Huh?! What way?! Tell me, quick!!!”

Wen Xi couldn’t hide her joy.

“The Jiang family’s younger son—do you know him? He’s the CEO of Fangke Entertainment now!

And he’s being pressured into marriage!”

Jiang Yin seemed to catch her implication.

She coughed awkwardly.

“That Jiang—”

But Wen Xi was too excited.

The problem she couldn’t solve all night suddenly had a perfect, effortless solution.

She ignored Jiang Yin’s hesitation.

“So—”

“I’ll marry Jiang Jibai!”

“Become the boss’s wife of Fangke Entertainment!”

“And then I can legitimately care about my own company’s artist—my idol’s—schedule!!!”

“Pfft!”

Before Jiang Yin could respond, a suppressed chuckle sounded above her head.

Huh?

Who laughed?

Who was eavesdropping on her call?!

Who was so rude?!

Wen Xi frowned and leaned slightly over the balcony railing, looking up.

Each hotel balcony had the same layout.

Only the plants differed.

On the sixth floor were blooming Zhao-pink peonies.

Above them, hydrangeas flourished in pale blue clusters.

Beyond that sea of blue, Wen Xi’s gaze collided unexpectedly with a pair of long, cold eyes.

She had never seen eyes so icy.

After just one second, her body shivered involuntarily.

She pulled her head back instantly.

Whoa!

Those eyes were terrifyingly cold!

That pleasant, low laugh definitely didn’t belong to the owner of those eyes.

There must have been someone else nearby.

But Wen Xi didn’t dare look again.

On the phone, Jiang Yin finally spoke.

“Xixi…He’s very difficult. You can’t handle him. I really advise you not to get this idea.”