We Just Got Married

As December approached, Hong Kong was greeted by a sudden cold snap; this winter was shaping up to be harsher than in previous years.

At the Sai Kung Golf Course, the overcast skies that had lingered for nearly half a month finally broke, allowing long-awaited sunlight to beam straight down.

A man stood clad in a white stand-collar golf shirt, tailored golf trousers, and flat shoes—standard golfing attire. His grip on the club was textbook, his posture perfect. As caddies waited nearby, the man’s deep, peach-blossom eyes focused forward. His expression was indifferent as he moved without a moment’s hesitation—lifting the club, swinging, and striking the ball in one seamless motion.

The white ball traced a perfect parabola through the air before dropping steadily into the hole. Almost the instant the ball vanished, the sound of rhythmic clapping erupted from the side.

“A hole-in-one. You’re in top form,” Song Zhuo said with a laugh. “It seems you haven’t been affected by the wedding.”

A caddy stepped forward promptly to take the club, a practiced smile on his face. “Congratulations, Young Master Jiang.”

The odds of a hole-in-one were slim. The caddy’s beaming face wasn’t born of genuine joy for Jiang Jifeng, but rather the prospect of a tip. While ordinary players might give a small red envelope for such a feat, a scion from a top-tier noble family like Jiang Jifeng—one of the few truly elite houses in Hong Kong—might hand out a tip worth hundreds of thousands of dollars if he was in a good mood.

As the caddy retreated with the club, Jiang Jifeng’s assistant, Xiao Gao, intercepted him with a prepared red envelope and led the staff out of the inner court.

Song Zhuo and Jiang Jifeng were left alone on the vast green.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Jifeng asked, pulling off his gloves as he walked toward Song Zhuo.

“I heard you were successfully pressured into marriage. I came specifically to offer my condolences.” Song Zhuo paused, noting Jiang Jifeng’s continued aura of nonchalance. “What’s your plan?”

The Jiang family was a powerhouse among Hong Kong’s high society, and Jiang Jifeng was the future patriarch. Nine times out of ten, the entirety of the family estate would end up in his hands. News of his flash marriage had leaked only yesterday; in Hong Kong, no one dared to sensationalize news regarding the Jiangs, but as his childhood friend, Song Zhuo had called to confirm. Upon receiving a “yes,” he had flown back to Hong Kong overnight.

He had stepped off the plane only an hour ago.

Jiang Jifeng tossed his gloves onto the table and picked up a signature black metal box. Opening it, he pulled out a cigar that emitted a faint, refined aroma.

The Sai Kung course was an exclusive private club with a membership fee of two million dollars. Here, a member could smoke without a care; the servers would meticulously clear away every speck of ash before it could even settle.

The cigar was lit. The man exhaled, a cloud of lingering smoke beginning to drift and dissipate.

“Let it be,” Jiang Jifeng said dismissively. “When she can’t stand it anymore, she’ll naturally file for divorce.”

On the phone yesterday, Song Zhuo had peppered him with questions: What does she look like? Do you have a photo? Is she your type? Jiang Jifeng had only answered the last one.

—”No.”

Song Zhuo was still reeling. He hadn’t fully processed the fact that Jiang Jifeng was actually married. After a long silence, he finally sighed. “I never thought you’d actually agree to marry someone you don’t like.”

“The Old Man likes her. That’s enough.” “And you’re just… accepting it?” “He agreed to let me expand into the Beijing market.” Jiang Jifeng flicked the ash from his cigar. “You know how long I’ve been pushing for that.”

A month ago, Jiang Jifeng had begun planning to open a media company in Beijing—but not a typical one. He had signed a cooperation agreement with the authorities to develop new markets, involving the growth of various townships and rural areas. If he succeeded, the Jiang family would gain prestige in the mainland to match their status as a Hong Kong dynasty. If he failed, the financial loss would be negligible, but the blow to their reputation would be significant.

The Old Man had used this as leverage, stalling the project for nearly a month.

For a century-old clan, reputation was everything. This extended to his marriage. Years ago, a “cradle betrothal” had been made. When an old friend he hadn’t contacted in years showed up to discuss the verbal arrangement, the elder Jiang—out of fear of tarnishing his honor—had nodded and agreed without a second thought.

“So, the Old Man knew it was unfair to you and gave you a ‘compensation’ package,” Song Zhuo noted. “Well, once you’re in Beijing, he won’t be able to reach you. Even if he wants her to live in the family mansion in Hong Kong, you won’t be there.”

That was exactly Jiang Jifeng’s plan. He couldn’t escape marrying her, but he could choose to leave Hong Kong.

One in the South, one in the North. They would never have to meet.

He crushed out his cigar and said no more.

In Beijing at the end of November, the temperature was dropping steadily. The National Meteorological Center predicted the first snow would arrive in a few days.

Wen Yang was packing her suitcase while checking the weather forecast for Jiangmen, Guangdong. She was headed to a village in one of Jiangmen’s districts; the temperature there was much better than in Beijing, though still a bit chilly. She stood up just as her roommate, Yang Li, appeared at the door, handing her a sweet mandarin orange.

“How long will you be away on this business trip?”

Wen Yang took the orange and thanked her. “This one will be quick, about three days. The contract hasn’t been finalized yet, so I’m just going for an on-site inspection and to discuss sales issues for the Xin’an sweet mandarins with the local residents.”

Yang Li curled her lip. “This job of yours… you have to go to townships for inspections, write reports, and basically help people sell surplus oranges. I’m telling you, what kind of future is there in this? You’re a top student from Zhejiang University; why on earth would you decide to go into e-commerce?”

After swallowing the last bite of the orange, Wen Yang answered seriously. “I see your point, but our department isn’t just ordinary e-commerce. We are in the era of the Internet and AI, but many townships are still stuck in the past. Agricultural products often go unsold. This department was recently established; I heard the new boss bought the company specifically for this purpose. Besides, we are collaborating with the government on the ‘One Township, One Industry’ project for rural revitalization. If this succeeds under my watch, it will be incredibly beneficial for my future career.”

“Oh—” Yang Li drew out the sound. Wen Yang nodded with satisfaction, thinking Yang Li finally understood and was impressed. Instead, Yang Li added, “Still don’t get it.”

Wen Yang didn’t bother to argue. Everyone perceives things differently.

She continued packing but accidentally dropped a piece of paper on the floor.

The bright overhead fluorescent light shone down like a spotlight onto the paper on the marble floor.

Wen Yang froze, wanting to grab it, but it was too late. Yang Li beat her to it. After studying it for a few seconds, she blurted out, “This… is a Hong Kong marriage certificate?!”

Hong Kong marriage certificates differ from those in the mainland. In the mainland, it’s a red booklet, while in Hong Kong, it’s a thin sheet of paper.

“You’re actually… married?!” “Didn’t you just graduate?” Yang Li was utterly stunned. “I never heard you mention getting married.”

Indeed, Wen Yang had only recently graduated. Before her degree certificate had even cooled in her hands, she had obtained another life-altering document. It was entirely her grandfather’s arrangement. Not wanting to upset the old man, she had agreed and was promptly taken to register the marriage.

Wen Yang didn’t want to explain too much. She said simply, “Mhm, not long ago.”

“Have you two been together for a long time?” Yang Li was baffled. “If you’re married, why are you out here renting a room with me? Where’s your husband?”

Faced with the interrogation, Wen Yang didn’t want to offer details. She tucked the certificate away and said flatly, “My husband… runs a pork stall in our hometown. I came to the big city to make something of myself on my own, so I’m renting here.”

So that was it. Yang Li assumed their financial situation after marriage wasn’t great, which was why Wen Yang had come to the city to work. She opened her mouth to speak but felt Wen Yang’s silence. Thinking Wen Yang missed her husband—or perhaps felt embarrassed that her husband ran a pork stall—Yang Li chatted for a few more moments before returning to her own room.

The clock on her phone showed 12:56 AM. The room was pitch black, yet Wen Yang couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t tell if it was excitement for her first business trip or the accidental appearance of that marriage registration paper.

Yes. She was married to a man she had only met twice.

She only knew his name was Jiang Jifeng, he lived in Hong Kong, and he was the scion of a century-old family her grandfather deemed “trustworthy.”

There had been no courtship, no romantic fantasies. Their transition from strangers to spouses had required only the decision of two elders; they hadn’t even had time to look at each other more than a few times.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. On the day they registered, Wen Yang had secretly peeked at Jiang Jifeng a few times.

The first time was at the old Jiang family residence in Hong Kong. She was slightly nearsighted, so her vision was a bit blurry, but through his gestures and movements, she could sense his refined, reserved, and gentlemanly temperament. His features were handsome, but at that distance, she couldn’t see them clearly.

On the day of the registration, she wanted to see exactly what her future husband looked like, so she wore her contact lenses. He was wearing a white shirt, buttoned to the very top, with his hair swept back. His features were sharply defined. Those deep, peach-blossom eyes seemed both passionate and heartless at once. He had a small brown mole at the corner of his eye. His thin lips were pressed together, and his brow was slightly furrowed.

Perhaps it was the difference in the environments they grew up in, but his powerful, innate aura left her speechless the entire day.

She knew that, like her, he didn’t want this marriage.

But the grace of a noble family was etched into his bones. He remained polite, refined, and gentlemanly toward her, showing not a hint of impatience.

However, he was too profound. She harbored some secret criticisms of him; she felt he only appeared reserved on the surface but was likely a “player” behind the scenes.

He was too good-looking—excessively so. She guessed he was a master in the game of love.

After the marriage, Grandpa Wen continued to praise him endlessly. Driven by a sense of defiance, Wen Yang had decided to look up the name “Jiang Jifeng.”

She wanted to see if he was truly worth such praise, or if he was indeed a player.

Her search yielded reports from the Hong Kong media, mostly focused on his career. However, there were also snippets of him entering and leaving bars and nightclubs, always with a group of friends in a private booth.

Men and women in large crowds. He was never lacking for female company, and the faces were never the same.

Having actually found news of his “playing,” she didn’t dare show it to her grandfather because they were already married. The matter was settled; there was no point in making a scene.

Fortunately, he was as unwilling to be married as she was. She was in Beijing, he was in Hong Kong; they didn’t live under the same roof. While it was normal for a married couple to live together, she would stall for as long as possible. That was the reason she had put so much effort into finding a job in Beijing.

She had escaped her hometown and her grandfather’s nagging.

One in the South, one in the North—she and he would never have to meet.

The inspection in Xin’an City, Guangdong, was much simpler than expected. The local residents and the Bureau of Industry and Commerce were very cooperative. On her way back to Beijing, the first snow began to fall. Her phone buzzed with a string of notifications from Enterprise WeChat; she opened it to find the general company group chat, where everyone was scrambling for red envelopes.

The excitement had come out of nowhere.

Because she was car-sick, Wen Yang didn’t look closely. After exiting the group, she found that their Team A departmental group was also buzzing. She thought it was about work, but to her surprise, it was the video editor sending a message: [Holy crap! The new boss is so handsome, did you guys see him?]

Director: [I saw him! I saw him!! He’s way too handsome! Wen Yang, you missed it! What a pity!]

Cameraman: [How much did you guys get in your red envelopes? Mine was 1,000.]

Director: [It’s the same for the whole company. I heard management got 3,000. The new boss is so generous! Wen Yang, I put your red envelope on your desk. I wonder how much yours is?!]

Wen Yang was the assistant to the COO (Chief Operating Officer), which made her part of the junior management. She didn’t know if she’d get 1,000 or 3,000. She didn’t mind either way—even a thousand was a lot to her—but she was worried about a different issue.

Wen Yang: [If the new boss is here, won’t he want to have a meeting with Team A soon? What do I do? I’m still on the road.]

Director: [We all just went down to the first floor to line up and welcome him. He came so suddenly; it’s normal that you didn’t know while on a trip. But you’re the only one in the whole company who wasn’t there. I hope the new boss isn’t petty enough to hold a grudge. After all, our team is standing at the very front because the new boss created this independent unit himself.]

COO Fang Hui: [@Director, don’t talk nonsense. Wen Yang is on a trip, she didn’t skip the welcome on purpose. Don’t stress her out. @Wen Yang, it probably won’t be that soon, but stay prepared. Team A is a department the boss established personally and involves government cooperation, so he likely values it highly. Have you caught a taxi? Roughly how much longer until you arrive?]

Wen Yang looked down at the navigation: [About ten minutes.]

Ten minutes after the conversation ended, Wen Yang reached the office building. She took the elevator to the 10th floor. As the doors opened, she saw the Team A members tidying up documents at their desks. Fang Hui saw her and let out a sigh of relief.

“The boss called for a meeting with Team A in ten minutes. Get ready, organize the data from the Xin’an trip, and bring it to me.”

Wen Yang didn’t even have time to breathe. She nodded immediately. There was a red envelope on her workstation, but she didn’t have time to open it. She pulled up her computer and worked at lightning speed to organize the three days of data, putting together a version of the PPT in ten minutes.

Fang Hui stood behind her. “Alright, go get a drink of water. Send the PPT to my WeChat.”

Wen Yang was Fang Hui’s assistant; since she was told to send it, she did.

Ten minutes later, precisely on time, the lights and the screen in Meeting Room No. 1 were turned on. The Team A members filed in: Fang Hui sat first, Wen Yang sat second, followed by Director Ke Li, Editor Feng Ying, Cameraman Zhou Kang, and the Operations Lead, Yuan Li.

Everyone was nervous, and Wen Yang was no exception. This was her first job. During the interview, she had focused on the development prospects and had exaggerated her skills a bit. Now, less than a month after joining, she had to meet the new boss.

Subconsciously biting her thumb, she stopped the moment the door to Meeting Room No. 1 was pushed open. She stood up with the rest of Team A to offer a greeting. Chairs rolled silently across the plush carpet. She lifted her eyes to look politely at the man walking in.

In the next second, her pupils contracted, her gaze froze, and her mind went utterly blank.

The man wore a black haute couture suit over a black striped shirt, his hair swept back. He had exquisite features and a furrowed brow. He was tall, with a reserved aura. After taking his seat, he followed the Jiang family rules and handed his phone to his assistant, Xiao Gao. Then, he raised a lean arm and glanced down at the watch on his wrist—a piece worth ten million. From start to finish, he never looked up, his voice sounding flat and indifferent.

“A thirty-minute report. Let’s begin.”

The meeting room was huge. Jiang Jifeng sat in the center, quite far from the others. Unless he focused, he wouldn’t notice the five of them individually. His gaze remained fixed on the screen at the front.

The meeting officially started, but the PPT didn’t respond. Fang Hui grew anxious and whispered, “President Jiang, please wait a few seconds. Wen Yang, go check what’s wrong with the PPT.”

In the massive meeting room, the name “Wen Yang” caused Jiang Jifeng—who had been focused solely on the meeting since entering—to freeze.

Wen Yang?

For the first time, his mind wandered during a meeting. His peach-blossom eyes turned toward the seat next to Fang Hui. His deep gaze narrowed.

Why is she also in Beijing?