The purpose of this story is purely for entertainment, not for social work.
I am Xiamen.
Today, I am going to marry the most influential man in the city — Hong Yi.
He is the number one businessman here, and I, too, do not come from a humble background. My father owns forty-five percent of his company's shares. The moment my father met Hong Yi, he liked him — not because he was handsome, but because he was rich. And since Hong Yi is the sole heir to his family's empire, my father saw in him an opportunity — a future where he could inherit everything once I bore Hong Yi's child.
So I was prepared for him like a doll. Perfected in every art that could please a man — dance, embroidery, weaving, cooking, business management — you name it. I had a master for everything: how to eat, how to sit, how to walk, how to smile.
It was difficult, yes, but not impossible.
And yet, I did not do all this because my father asked me to.
I did it because I loved Hong Yi.
"I loved you like some unfulfilled dream of mine.
And you stole me like a gust of wind."
The first time I saw him, I was five years old. My father had taken me to a party at his house. It was evening — the garden shimmered with lanterns, the air filled with the scent of blooming roses. Amid all the noise and laughter, I saw a boy sitting alone on a wooden bench.
He was seven, with black hair falling over his forehead and eyes as blue as the evening sky — eyes that felt as deep as the ocean itself. When he looked at me, something inside me shifted. It was love at first sight.
I ran toward him, eager to speak, but he only glanced at me with sad eyes, stood up, and walked away.
I tried to stop him, but he never turned back.
It didn't matter. I loved him anyway — and I decided I would become someone worthy of his stubborn heart.
Everyone in the company knew that one day, I would marry Hong Yi. Over time, he opened up to me — or at least, pretended to. We became friends of sorts. We went on picnics, shopped together, laughed occasionally. But I always knew — he was doing it out of duty, not affection.
Sometimes he would smile and bring me cake, and my heart would flutter. But then he would suddenly turn cold, his expression darkening as he walked away. I told myself things would change with time.
But they didn't.
Instead, he changed me.
And now, the wedding day has finally arrived.
The hall is beautifully decorated, filled with roses — my favorite flowers. I don't know if he chose them for me or if someone else did, but I allow myself to hope.
As I adjust my wedding dress, a call comes from outside. I step out — and there he is.
Hong Yi stands at the end of the hall, tall and elegant, his expression unreadable. The golden light from the chandeliers frames him like a portrait.
He looks stunning.
But not once does he turn to look at me.
His gaze remains fixed straight ahead, as if this marriage were a duty — a sentence, not a choice.
And in that moment, my heart begins to tremble.