The Minimalist and the Mini-Me:

Two strangers of the opposite s*x in one bedroom, and Jiang Jifeng had naturally uttered the words: “Go take a shower.”

Wen Yang wondered what level of audacity one had to reach to command a woman to shower so casually. A chill traveled from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. She opened her mouth, but a thousand protests simplified into one practical reality: “I didn’t bring any clothes.”

Jiang Jifeng stopped in his tracks as if he had only just realized this. Without a word, he turned and went into the walk-in closet. A moment later, he emerged with a set of pajamas. “The tags are still on. Make do for tonight. I’ll have Assistant Gao send a change of clothes tomorrow morning.”

There was no other choice. Wen Yang took the clothes from him and retreated into the bathroom.

Upon opening the door, she was shocked once more. The center of the bathroom featured a massive soaking tub, flanked by a private sauna. The vanity was crafted from gilded marble, and the entire suite was illuminated by a massive raindrop-shaped crystal chandelier. It was a masterclass in high-end design.

Wen Yang hesitated. She didn’t want to go out and face Jiang Jifeng so soon, so she started the bath, hoping the warm water would help her relax.

Outside, Jiang Jifeng finished processing documents on his iPad and received a call from his mother.

He hesitated, knowing instinctively that she had likely waited until his grandparents were asleep before calling. He rubbed his weary brow. Despite a grueling day, he couldn’t escape this conversation. He had never been one to disrespect his elders, so after a few rings, he pressed answer.

“Mom,” he said flatly.

“I heard from your grandparents that Wen Yang is staying at your place tonight?” His mother’s voice was unreadable.

After he gave a quiet “mm,” she continued, “It seems your grandparents really do like her, traveling all the way to Beijing to see her. Well, since you’ve chosen to listen to your grandfather instead of me, just do as they say. If they tell you to go east, don’t you dare go west.”

Jiang Jifeng’s brow furrowed. “Why are we still talking about the marriage? It’s been over for a long time.”

“Am I not allowed to speak?”

“I am already married. Please stop bringing up these messy complications,” Jiang Jifeng said, his voice dropping to a rare, frustrated whisper. “Who I chose to marry was my own decision; it has nothing to do with whose orders I follow. That’s all. I’m hanging up.”

He cut the call before she could respond.

He turned around just as Wen Yang emerged from the bathroom. She was wearing his pajamas, her damp curls draped loosely over her waist. Her skin, free of makeup, was pale and glowing with a post-bath flush. Her round almond eyes flickered with uncertainty. Because the pajamas were far too large, she had rolled the sleeves and pant legs up several times, making her look slightly comical—like a child caught wearing an adult’s clothes.

“You can use it now,” Wen Yang said.

Jiang Jifeng gave a curt nod, set his phone to charge by the bed, and took his own pajamas into the bathroom.

Wen Yang sat on the edge of the two-meter-wide bed, her heart far less steady than she appeared. She had heard his words the moment she opened the bathroom door. It wasn’t intentional eavesdropping, but it had triggered a memory.

She had heard rumors that Jiang Jifeng’s parents hadn’t approved of the match. It was his grandfather who had insisted on the union, forcing the parents to back down. On the wedding day, Jiang Jifeng’s mother had made her distaste quite clear. Only because of the grandparents had she maintained a forced, smiling facade.

As for why they opposed her, Wen Yang didn’t know. She didn’t care to dwell on it, either. He could have married anyone; it just happened to be her. She felt no deep attachment to the “why.”

Her hair was already dry, so she lay down. She reached for her phone, but noticed it was at 20%. Fearing it would die, she looked for a charger.

To her dismay, there was only one wireless charging pad. And right now, his phone was on it. She would have to wait.

She placed her phone on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling. Without her phone to kill time, the room was silent—save for the sudden, rhythmic sound of the shower.

Wen Yang’s eyes flickered. He’s using the shower, not the tub.

Trying to drown out the sound, she rolled over to face away from the bathroom. As she did, she caught the scent of her own freshly washed hair. Her lashes trembled as she recognized the fragrance—it was the same scent she’d smelled earlier that evening in the kitchen when he leaned down for her to tie his apron.

The same shampoo. The same body wash.

How awkward. I shouldn’t have showered, she thought.

While her mind raced, the bathroom door clicked open. She instinctively stole a glance.

He was wearing a set of deep grey pajamas. His hair was already dry, but instead of the sharp side-part he wore during the day, it was styled in a messy, casual fringe. He looked much more approachable than the rigid CEO at the office—gentle, relaxed, like a refined gentleman.

He walked toward the bed in his slippers. As he pulled back the covers, he noticed Wen Yang curled up like a little shrimp. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked casually.

Wen Yang kept her back to him, inching further toward the edge of the bed until she was practically a ball. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid of him touching her or her touching him.

“I’m waiting for your phone to finish charging,” she mumbled.

Jiang Jifeng glanced at the charger. “Why? You want to check it?”

His logic left her speechless. Moreover, his tone lacked even a hint of displeasure. It gave her the feeling that if she said “yes,” he would simply hand the phone over. He’s certainly bold, she thought. Isn’t he afraid I’ll find evidence of an affair?

Of course, she only shouted these thoughts in her head. Her mouth remained honest: “No, I need to charge mine.”

Jiang Jifeng picked up his phone and moved the wireless pad to her side of the bed. “Go ahead.”

Once he moved away, Wen Yang’s hand emerged from her cocoon to fumble for the pad. Once she found it, she placed her phone down without looking back. “Thanks,” she muttered.

The phone buzzed, indicating it was charging.

Jiang Jifeng looked at her back and let out a soft huff. Then, he pulled back the duvet and lay down beside her.

Wen Yang’s entire body went rigid. It wasn’t that she feared Jiang Jifeng would lose his manners and force himself on her, but she truly hadn’t expected him to actually share the bed.

“Why are you so tense? The blanket is stiff,” he said. The lights were off, and his deep voice combined with his next words felt almost eerie in the dark. “Afraid I’ll eat you?”

“Of course not!” Wen Yang retorted immediately. “I just didn’t expect you to actually lie down.”

“Where else would I sleep?” He let out a dry chuckle, citing the law to her in the darkness. “Mrs. Jiang, don’t forget we are a legally married couple. Me sleeping in this bed is not a crime.”

Wen Yang realized he had a point. They were married; even if something actually happened, it was perfectly legal. With that thought, the awkwardness eased slightly, but sleep remained elusive. Time ticked by. She bit her thumb. In the dark, her voice rang out again.

“Do you think… do you think Grandpa and Grandma believed us?”

“I don’t know.” “How long do we have to act?” “Until they are completely convinced.” “When are they leaving?” Jiang Jifeng fell silent for a few seconds. “Probably when we start living together.”

“Living together?!” Wen Yang spun around in the dark to face him, her voice filled with shock. “I’m not moving in!”

She had no desire to cohabitate. If she moved in, she’d be right back where she was in Hong Kong. Her whole reason for coming to Beijing would be ruined.

“I don’t want to either,” Jiang Jifeng said after a pause. “Go to sleep. You have work tomorrow. Don’t be late again.”

Wen Yang rolled over again, but sleep was nowhere to be found. Her mind was a mess. Feeling restless and wanting someone to share her misery, she said, “Mr. Jiang, I have compensatory leave.”

Jiang Jifeng was resting with his eyes closed, his exhaustion evident. He gave a polite, “Mmm?”

“So, technically, I wasn’t ‘late’ today,” Wen Yang said earnestly.

Was this really worth sharing in the middle of the night? Jiang Jifeng felt a rare sense of helplessness. “Understood. Sleep.”

He was truly tired. But Wen Yang was truly awake.

After a while, she called out again. “Mr. Jiang.”

A long sigh echoed in the dark. With his eyes still closed, he said, “Just say it.”

The initial awkwardness of “legally sleeping together” had been dissolved by his sighs and her restlessness. A spark of her inner rebel flared up—she needed a conversation partner to save her from insomnia, even if she was a little afraid of him.

“Have you ever seen a man dressed as a woman?” she asked casually.

“No,” he said.

“Oh, yes you have.” A rustling sound followed as Wen Yang grabbed her phone. A blinding light hit Jiang Jifeng’s handsome, resting face. He forced his eyes open only to see her photo gallery held inches from his nose.

The photo showed a little boy with delicate features wearing a dress. Despite his buzz cut, he had two floral fake curls clipped to his head and two red flowers. He was a good-looking child, but the outfit was a chaotic, bizarre mess.

Jiang Jifeng was silent for three seconds. “So ugly. Who is that?”

In the quiet bedroom, Wen Yang whispered two words: “It’s you.”

That night, Wen Yang slept like a log.

Jiang Jifeng, however, tossed and turned, his sleepiness having been transferred entirely to Wen Yang. He searched his memory but couldn’t find a single trace of when that photo was taken or why he had never seen it!

To make matters worse, Wen Yang was a restless sleeper. She hogged the blankets, kicked them off, and at one point, draped her leg over him. Eventually, Jiang Jifeng gave up. He sat up, leaned against the headboard, and spent the rest of the night scrolling through company data.

The next morning, the alarm startled Wen Yang awake. She found the space beside her empty; he had woken up much earlier.

She went to the bathroom to wash up and found a brand-new set of toiletries waiting for her. There was high-end cleanser, skincare, and makeup—the kind of luxury brands she usually couldn’t justify buying.

There was also a luxury shopping bag. Inside was a piece from a designer winter collection she’d seen recently. The set cost roughly a quarter of her yearly salary.

She washed up and put the clothes on. They fit perfectly.

Stepping out, she saw the grandparents hadn’t woken yet. Jiang Jifeng was at the dining table, where Assistant Gao had already delivered a spread of Hong Kong-style breakfast. There was even a coffee waiting for her.

“Morning,” she said brightly.

Jiang Jifeng didn’t look up from his financial newspaper. “Mmm.”

“You look a bit tired,” Wen Yang noted. “Didn’t sleep well?”

His eyes stopped on the paper. He looked up at her. “What do you think?”

She had shown him that photo and then fallen into a deep slumber, leaving him to suffer through the night at the hands of his own “ugly” childhood picture.

Wen Yang smiled, her eyes curving like crescents as she feigned ignorance of his silent accusation. As she ate, she asked, “By the way, how did you know my measurements? This fits really well.”

She immediately felt the question was unnecessary. He probably deals with women constantly… practice makes perfect.

But the quiet dining room was filled with Jiang Jifeng’s snort of laughter. In a very flat tone, he said, “Measurements? Mrs. Jiang, you’ve misunderstood. I didn’t guess.”

Wen Yang looked at him curiously.

“I simply told Assistant Gao to get everything in the smallest size possible,” Jiang Jifeng smirked. “I just didn’t expect you to say it was ‘a perfect fit’.”

He’s attacking my figure AND my measurements! Wen Yang had dug her own hole. Seething but unable to retaliate, she ate her breakfast in silence.

At the office, Fang Hui led Group A to Meeting Room 1. The focus was the implementation plan for the New An project. If the plan passed, the team would receive a portion of their project bonuses—but it also meant things were about to get very busy.

Wen Yang sat down next to Ke Li, who leaned in and sniffed. “Did you change your shampoo? It smells amazing.”

Wen Yang fidgeted. “Ah, no… my roommate changed hers and insisted I try some.”

“Your roommate is so nice,” Ke Li said, her sharp eyes landing on Wen Yang’s outfit. “Isn’t that a runway piece? I remember it being incredibly expensive. How could you afford it?”

“Also my roommate’s,” Wen Yang lied. “She’s wealthy. She said she didn’t like the black color, so she gave it to me.” To prevent more questions, she whispered, “Shh, the boss is coming. He’ll scold us.”

Just then, Jiang Jifeng walked in. He took his seat at the head of the table. “Thirty minutes. Begin.”

From their first meeting until now, Wen Yang’s perception of him had shifted. In business, he was always the stern, rigid professional—but no one knew that behind the scenes, he was a little girl in a dress. The image of the photo flashed in her mind. She had to think of every sad thing she knew to keep herself from laughing out loud.

Unbeknownst to her, Jiang Jifeng caught every flicker of her expression.

Fortunately, the plan passed. As the thirty minutes ended and Group A began packing up, Fang Hui spoke up politely: “Mr. Jiang, the department is planning to celebrate the plan’s approval tonight—a little pre-work party. Would you like to join us?”

Wen Yang’s hand slipped, and her laptop closed with a loud thwack.

The sound was jarring in the quiet room. Wen Yang immediately looked at Jiang Jifeng, her eyes screaming: Don’t come.

Jiang Jifeng sat there, shifting his gaze from Wen Yang to Fang Hui. He spoke two words very deliberately: