The signature was still drying on the paper when silence swallowed the room.
Lawyer Chen capped his pen with slow, practiced precision, his calm expression revealing nothing of the storm brewing outside these four walls.
Beside him, Assistant Qin stood stiffly, tablet in hand, ready to execute orders that could shake Beijing.
But all Zhao Mei could hear was the soft thudding of her own heart.
She didn't look at the contract again. She couldn't.
I... signed it. I'm married. To a man I don't really know.
Her throat tightened.
She reached instinctively for her pocket, searching for the familiar weight of her phone, her last lifeline to the only friend she ever had.
Nothing.
A hollow ache formed in her chest.
Xiao Lan... I want to call you. I want to hear someone say I didn't make a mistake. That I'm not insane. That I'm not alone.
But there was no phone. No comforting voice. Just silence wrapped in luxury.
And a man who watched her too closely.
Zhang Wei stepped forward, his presence shifting the air.
"Miss Zhao."
She lifted her head timidly.
His voice dropped, gentler, quieter, but unmistakably firm.
"Stop calling me 'sir.' We are married now. Even if temporarily. It must be believable."
Her breath froze.
He leaned slightly closer, the faint scent of expensive cedar brushing her senses.
"When you speak to me," he said, "call me by my name."
Her lips parted.
"...Your... name...?" she whispered.
His eyes softened just a fraction.
"Wei."
The name felt heavy in her mouth. Important. Forbidden. Intimate.
She swallowed hard.
"...Wei..."
Zhang Wei inhaled sharp, surprised, almost unsteady. Just once. So quick she barely caught it.
But she did.
A faint pink brushed her ears, and she quickly looked away.
Lawyer Chen cleared his throat gently, grounding the moment.
"If both parties have no objections, the marriage contract is now legally binding. Young Master, shall Assistant Qin release the public statement?"
Wei straightened instantly, expression cold again.
"Yes. Send it. Now and ensure it states the Zhang family is in full support."
Assistant Qin nodded, typing at lightning speed. Fingers trembling. He knew what this meant.
"Yes, Young Master. I'll finalize and distribute it to the press, including the family endorsement."
"Good," Wei said, then turned toward Zhao Mei again.
"Come with me."
Her breath caught. "H...Huh?"
"We're not done." His hand brushed the air beside her. "I need you to meet the household."
Her pulse stumbled.
His staff...? All of them??
She stood slowly, knees weak, and followed as he led her out of the office.
****
Meanwhile The Internet Explodes
WEIBO: 10:32 A.M.
Trending list:
#ZhangWeiMarried #MysteryBrideIdentified #ScandalGirlTurnsYoungMadam #BeijingPowerShift
Millions of comments poured in instantly.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE BILLIONAIRE IS MARRIED???"
"TO HER?? The girl from the video??"
"Is this a PR stunt or a damn novella??"
"She must be a witch. Or lucky. No in-between."
"Plot twist of the YEAR!"
Some supported him. Some accused them both. Some simply screamed into the void.
But one message repeated everywhere:
"Who is Zhao Mei???"
****
Xiao Lan
In the cramped back kitchen of the tiny café where she worked,
Xiao Lan wiped sweat from her brow, the steam from boiling pots
clinging to her skin like a second layer of exhaustion. Her shift
had been endless, customers barking orders, trays heavy with
cheap coffee and stale pastries. But in this brief lull, she leaned
against the counter, scrolling through her phone for a mindless
escape.
The headline hit her like a splash of scalding water.
"Zhang Wei Married to Mystery Woman: Family in Full Support."
She blinked, heart skipping. The photo attached,blurry but
unmistakable showed her best friend, Zhao Mei, in that infamous video frame.
The tray in her other hand slipped, crashing to the floor in a
shatter of ceramic and spilled sugar packets.
Customers in the front room stared through the pass-through
window. Her boss yelled from the register. She didn't care.
"WHAT THE...MEI?!"
Her hands shook as she zoomed in, reading the announcement
again. Married. To a billionaire. Overnight.
"Mei married a billionaire?! MY Mei?!
Memories flooded her: late-night talks in their shared dorm, Mei's
quiet dreams of a simple life, away from the cruelty of her family.
Xiao Lan had always been the protector, the one who fought back
when others pushed Mei down.
Now this? A marriage that screamed scheme or desperation.
She dialed Mei's number, fingers fumbling.
Unavailable.
She tried again, pacing the narrow kitchen, bumping into shelves.
Nothing.
Her voice cracked, whispering to the empty air.
"Where are you...? Are you safe? Mei... please tell me this isn't
some nightmare or some twisted plot to trap you..."
Tears welled up, hot and unbidden. If Mei was in danger, if this
"marriage" was anything but her choice, Xiao Lan would drop
everything. She'd storm that mansion herself.
Her heart pounded with fierce loyalty.
"If anyone bullies you, I swear I'll make them pay 10 folds."
But the phone stayed silent, and the ache in her chest grew, a
void where her friend's voice should be.
****
Madam Zhao's House
In the dim, cluttered living room of their rundown apartment,
Madam Zhao lounged on the sagging couch, fanning herself with
a crumpled magazine. The air was thick with the smell of
overcooked rice from lunch, and her two sons sprawled nearby
one picking at his nails, the other glued to his phone, laughing at some viral video.
The news alert pinged on her son's screen first.
He sat up straight. "Mother, look at this Zhao Mei's in the
headlines!"
Madam Zhao snatched the phone, her eyes narrowing as she
read.
"Zhang Wei Announces Marriage to Zhao Mei: Zhang Family in
Full Support."
"What? MARRIED? SHE? TO HIM?!"
She slapped her son's arm so hard he yelped, rubbing the spot
with a whine.
"That girl is a fox spirit! A homewrecker! No wonder she left, she
went to seduce a billionaire while we rot here!"
Her chest heaved with indignation, memories bubbling up like
bile. Zhao Mei, the unwanted fosterdaughter, always quiet,
always enduring. Madam Zhao had reveled in that power
assigning endless chores, belittling her dreams. It was supposed
to keep her in line, not propel her to luxury.
Her other son cursed, slamming his fist on the coffee table. "Now
she'll live in mansions while we're stuck in this dump? With
servants and silk sheets? That ungrateful wretch!"
Madam Zhao's eyes burned, a mix of rage and envy twisting her
gut. She'd dreamed of such wealth for her own blood, not this
outsider. How dare Mei escape the misery she'd so carefully crafted?
"She won't last long. Mark my words," she hissed, her voice low
and venomous. "Fortunes like that chew up girls like her. And
when she falls, she'll come crawling back begging."
But deep down, a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. What if Mei
didn't fall? What if this was permanent? The thought fueled her
bitterness, turning it into a slow-burning fire that promised revenge.
****
Fang Hua
Fang Hua reclined in the plush lounge chair of the exclusive spa,
steam rising around her like a veil of tranquility. The air smelled of
lavender and eucalyptus, soft music humming in the background
as a therapist gently massaged her temples. This was her
sanctuary, a ritual of self-care after the chaos of the party, where
she'd bandaged her hand and nursed her wounded pride.
Her phone, set to silent, vibrated on the side table.
She glanced at it lazily, expecting another admirer's message.
Instead, the screen lit up with notifications. Headlines. Alerts.
"Zhang Wei Married: To the Scandal Girl. Family Backs the Union."
Her body went cold, the warmth of the spa draining away in an instant.
She sat up abruptly, knocking over a bottle of essential oil that
spilled across the floor in a fragrant puddle.
"He... married her...?"
The therapist paused, concerned. "Miss Fang? Are you alright?"
Fang Hua didn't hear her. She crushed the bandage on her palm,
the fabric tearing slightly as her nails dug in. Fresh blood seeped
through, warm and sticky, dripping down her wrist onto the
pristine white towel.
Pain flared, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest,
a deep, fracturing hurt that spread like cracks in glass.
That position... was supposed to be mine.
Memories assaulted her: stolen glances with Wei at family
gatherings, the way he'd confided in her during late-night calls,
the unspoken promise of a future together. She'd endured his
mother's schemes, played the perfect ally, all for this.
Now, stolen by some nobody from a video scandal.
She stumbled to the mirror in the private room, staring at her
reflection, flawless makeup, elegant features, but eyes hollow
with betrayal.
Tears threatened, but she blinked them away, replacing them with steel.
"I won't let her take him away," she whispered, voice shaking but resolute. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
The spa's serenity felt mocking now, a facade as brittle as her
composure. She'd regroup. Plan. Strike when it hurt most.
****
Back at the Mansion
The main hall of the Zhang mansion filled quickly.
Maids lined up. Butler Li stood at the front. Security guards in
uniform formed a silent row. The chef whispered to his assistant.
Junior maids exchanged jealous glances.
"Is that really her?" "She's so... plain." "She doesn't look like a
Young Madam." "Why her? Why not Fang Hua?" "Did he fall for her?"
The whispers were knives.
Then footsteps.
Sharp. Certain. Authoritative.
The room fell silent as Zhang Wei entered
With Zhao Mei beside him.
He held her wrist lightly, guiding her forward.
Gasps. Murmurs. Bows.
Zhao Mei felt heat crawl up her neck, but she kept her gaze down, clutching her fingers together.
They're all looking at me. They're judging me. I don't belong here...
Wei stepped in front of her, voice calm but deadly.
"Enough."
The murmuring died instantly.
He looked at them one by one, unreadable.
"This is Miss Zhao," he announced. "Your Young Madam."
A ripple spread through the hall.
Some bowed deeper. Some stiffened. Some rolled their eyes when he wasn't looking.
Wei continued, voice slicing through tension.
"She is new to this household. New to our world. You will support her. You will guide her. And you will respect her."
Then his voice sharpened, steel wrapped in velvet.
"If you value your position here, you will treat her as you treat me."
A maid swallowed hard. A guard straightened. Someone whispered, trembling.
"He's serious..."
The air thickened.
Then, The doors BURST open.
Madam Zhang Enters, A Storm in Heels
Her heels clapped furiously against the marble. Her eyes blazed.
"Zhang Wei!"
She slapped him across the face.
The sound cracked through the hall like thunder.
Zhao Mei gasped. The staff froze. Wei didn't flinch.
Madam Zhang pointed at him, shaking.
"How dare you, HOW DARE YOU release a statement saying our family SUPPORTS this marriage without my permission?!"
Her chest heaved.
"You think you can make decisions that drag the Zhang name into scandal? Into chaos?! With her?! This low-class..."
"Mother."
Wei's voice, low, deep, dangerous made the entire hall tremble.
"Don't finish that sentence."
Her eyes widened slightly.
Wei continued, each word sharp as ice
"You have no solution to this crisis." "You brought me no answers." "And you lost the right to question my decisions the moment you let this situation spiral without lifting a finger."
Madam Zhang recoiled, stunned.
He stepped closer.
"This marriage stabilizes the company." "This marriage protects both parties." "And this girl..." he turned to Zhao Mei "is now my legal wife."
He met his mother's gaze, unwavering.
"Anyone who tries to harm her," he said softly, "will go through me first."
The hall remained frozen. Silent. Breathless.
Madam Zhang's lips trembled not just with rage, but with something bitter,
Guilt. Humiliation. Fear.
But she said nothing.
She simply turned sharply and walked out, heels echoing like gunshots.
Wei Guides Zhao Mei Away
He took her hand gently.
"Come."
His voice softened, just for her.
She followed him without thinking. Her heartbeat thundered. Her palm felt too small inside his.
They left the hall in heavy silence.
Behind them, whispers exploded the second the door closed.
****
Wei
Zhang Wei sat alone in his private lounge, winter city lights reflecting off the glass walls. He poured himself a drink rare, bitter whiskey.
Marriage. Not in his plans. Not on his path. Not even in his imagination.
He had survived assassination attempts. Family betrayals. Corporate wars.
But... this?
He took a slow sip, the burn sliding down his throat like a reminder of control.
The memory returned:
Her voice trembling as she said:
"Wei..."
It hit him in a place he didn't recognize, soft, unguarded, stirring something he'd long buried under layers of ambition and caution.
Then another memory surfaced:
His mother's smile at the party. Her hand passing him a drink.
The bitterness on his tongue. The world blurring.
A cold thought slithered into his mind.
Would she... stoop that low? To manipulate her own son for some twisted gain?
He hated himself for even considering it. She was his mother, flawed, ambitious, but family.
Yet the suspicion didn't leave, coiling tighter with each sip.
He pulled out his phone.
"Elite Unit," he said. "I want everything from that night re-investigated."
"The hotel." "The bellboy." "The staff." "Chen Rong."
He hesitated, the words heavy.
"And... my mother's movements."
He ended the call and stared at the city, wondering how long the world would remain standing before the truths he uncovered tore it apart.
****
Zhao Mei
In the East Wing, Zhao Mei sat on the bed, hands folded tightly.
The mansion was quiet. Too big. Too empty.
She instinctively reached for her phone again
Then remembered.
Lost. Gone.
Her only friend... out of reach.
Her eyes burned, tears blurring the ornate patterns on the silk duvet.
"I wish you were here, Lanlan..."
She hugged her knees, rocking slightly, the vast room amplifying her loneliness.
Memories of Xiao Lan's laughter, her fierce hugs, her unwavering support, they were all she had now.
She wanted someone to tell her she wasn't insane. That she wasn't dreaming. That she wasn't drowning in a world not built for her.
In the silence, she whispered softly into the quiet
"...Wei..."
The name curled warmly in the air, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.
She didn't know why it felt different.
But it did.