Ming Qi choked violently, coughing until his face flushed red.
His eyes, usually soft and affectionate, widened like a startled cat’s as he stared at Yu Qinzhou, utterly bewildered.
He thought maybe they should call the family doctor back—to check Yu Qinzhou’s temperature and see if he had a fever.
Otherwise, how could he possibly make such a ridiculous request?
“…Are you joking?”
“I don’t make jokes like that.”
Yu Qinzhou calmly finished the last sip of his coffee, then turned and walked to a cabinet, pulling out a stack of documents and handing them over.
Ming Qi instinctively lowered his gaze—and froze.
On the cover, five bold characters stared back at him:
Marriage Agreement
…This was real?
For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. His lips parted slightly, hesitating before he finally forced out one question:
“Why?”
“The old man may be getting on in years, but his desire for control has only grown stronger,” Yu Qinzhou said evenly. “In his eyes, I should follow his arrangements—enter a political marriage with a chosen heir, have children, and continue the family legacy.”
Ming Qi blinked.
Suddenly, he remembered certain rumors about Yu Qinzhou.
Having spent years abroad without restraint, Yu Qinzhou’s behavior was notoriously unorthodox. For example—he had dragged his own father down from the position of head of the Yu Corporation and sent him to prison.
Compared to that, being forced into a conventional marriage and producing heirs like other wealthy successors…
To Yu Qinzhou, it was probably no different from being slapped in the face.
And with his personality—
If someone kicked him, he would kick back twice as hard.
And he had to kick back hard—hard enough to smash the old man’s pride to pieces.
Ming Qi thought for a moment, then asked, “What are the characteristics of the marriage candidate your grandfather picked?”
“Vice president of an e-commerce company.”
Ming Qi nodded. Right—he was just an insignificant, eighteen-tier actor. In the old man’s eyes, probably nothing more than a lowly “performer.”
“Family-owned business. Fortune Global 500.”
Right—he was an orphan, unable to bring any benefit to the Yu family.
“Female.”
Right—he was male. No way he could produce an heir for the Yu family.
Three completely opposite traits—especially the last one—would probably anger the old man enough to drive him into his grave.
Seeing Ming Qi remain silent, Yu Qinzhou assumed he was still hesitating. His tone softened, giving him ample time to consider.
“You don’t need to worry about my grandfather causing you trouble. The Yu Corporation is in my hands now. Whatever he wants to do, he has to think twice about whether he’s capable. If you don’t mind, you can read the agreement first and give me your answer afterward.”
He pushed the marriage agreement slightly closer before standing up again.
“I’ll be in the study—second room on the right upstairs. Come find me when you’ve made your decision.”
Ming Qi: “?”
He had assumed something this important would take at least several days to consider. But from Yu Qinzhou’s tone, even a few hours seemed too long.
Watching Yu Qinzhou disappear around the corner upstairs, Ming Qi found the porridge in his mouth had lost all flavor.
He finished breakfast in a few bites, washed and dried the bowl in the kitchen, wiped his hands, and picked up the agreement again.
Curled up on the sofa, he read every word carefully.
After going through it once, only one thought remained:
Yu Qinzhou is really rich.
The agreement placed very few demands on him—just getting legally married and occasionally provoking the old man when necessary. But the benefits Ming Qi would receive were substantial. Properties, money, cars—everything under Yu Qinzhou’s name included a share for him.
Logically, it was a profitable deal.
But having something like this fall into his lap felt unreal.
Hesitating, he pulled up Meng She’s WeChat and cautiously asked for his opinion.
77.: Bro, I want to ask you something.
Meng She: What?
77.: If a rich CEO wanted to enter a contract marriage with you and offered you a lot of benefits, would you agree?
Meng Mom: How much per month?
Ming Qi thought of all the astronomical figures, then checked the contract again before replying:
77.: One million.
After a pause, he quickly added:
77.: That’s just pocket money. Doesn’t include other assets or income.
Meng Mom: ?
Meng Mom: Do I have to dress him, feed him, wash his feet every day? Or if he has someone else outside, should I take care of them too? Otherwise I’d feel guilty taking that money.
Meng Mom: Also, Little Seven, since we’re so close, I’m willing to give you five hundred thousand every month.
Meng Mom: So where’s his contact info?
77.: …
It was obvious—Meng She was very willing.
Ming Qi rubbed his face, sent a [cat speechless] emoji, and changed the subject.
77.: Bro, do you know any lawyers? I want to ask a few questions.
Regretful about not getting the contact, Meng She sighed and forwarded a lawyer’s WeChat.
The lawyer was Meng She’s high school classmate, admitted to the top law school in the country and now working at a prestigious firm. Not wanting to waste too much of his time, Ming Qi sent him the agreement directly.
A moment later, he got a reply:
Ask this Party A if he minds having one more partner. I’d like to apply for the position too.
Ming Qi: “…”
…
Holding the agreement, Ming Qi knocked on the study door.
Turns out, he didn’t need several hours after all.
After hearing permission from inside, he pushed the door open.
Yu Qinzhou sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, sunlight after the snowfall falling across his shoulders, outlining him in a soft glow.
Lifting his gaze from the documents, he removed his glasses with long fingers and looked at the well-behaved figure at the door, smiling faintly.
“Made your decision?”
Ming Qi nodded.
He stepped forward, placed the agreement in front of him, and said softly, “I’ve read it. Whether out of gratitude or the benefits you’re offering, I don’t really have a reason to refuse. But I asked a lawyer to revise a few clauses. Would you like to take a look?”
Yu Qinzhou glanced over the marked sections—mostly Ming Qi reducing what he felt was too much compensation.
“No need to change anything,” Yu Qinzhou said. “And you don’t need to feel like you shouldn’t accept this much just because I helped you. In a way, your appearance at this critical moment helped me a great deal too. Though, I did think of something the agreement doesn’t cover.”
“Go ahead.”
“I don’t want anyone else interfering in our relationship. Once the agreement takes effect, the only partner by your side should be me. And the same applies to me. Can you accept that?”
Even if it wasn’t written in the agreement, Ming Qi wouldn’t have pursued another relationship while married. That kind of thing went against his principles.
He nodded without hesitation.
So Yu Qinzhou added, “Of course, if you have any needs, you can come to me anytime. I’ll give you my recent medical report later.”
W-what needs?
Ming Qi froze for a second, then heard “medical report” and suddenly understood.
Without thinking, his gaze drifted downward—below Yu Qinzhou’s waist.
Thump.
The suit jacket that had been resting on the chair was tossed over his head, completely blocking his view.
At the same time, Yu Qinzhou’s voice sounded by his ear:
“Not today. You’ve just recovered—you won’t be able to handle it.”
He was also happy for Ming Qi.
“I’ll just take a taxi myself.” Ming Qi smiled at him. “It’s getting late. Brother Meng, you should head home—wouldn’t want to delay your New Year’s Eve dinner.”
Meng She thought to himself it was only one in the afternoon—there was still plenty of time before dinner. But since Ming Qi had said so, he didn’t insist. He waved a hand and left him with a final reminder: “If anything comes up, call me. Stay off Weibo and Douban—nothing but bad vibes there.” Then he turned and stepped into the elevator.
Ming Qi obediently replied “okay,” waited until the number on the screen dropped to 1, and only then went inside.
The house, long unoccupied, carried a faint musty smell. He opened the windows to air it out, then, shivering, retreated into the bedroom. Standing before the bathroom mirror, he frowned at his reflection.
Though he had already changed out of his hospital gown, the lingering frailty in his features hadn’t faded much. Beneath the soft, warm undershirt, a thin layer of cold sweat clung to his skin, making him uncomfortable all over.
Since he was going out for New Year’s, he couldn’t show up looking this disheveled.
He turned on the heater. Just then, his phone lit up with a message from Meng She:
By the way, you’re still running a fever—absolutely no showering! You hear me?!
Ming Qi muttered, “Didn’t turn on message notifications, didn’t see it,” and decisively turned on the hot water.
After a quick but comfortable shower, he changed into clean clothes, put on a mask and hat, grabbed his phone, and headed out.
He first went to the mall.
The mall was called Dongyu, backed by the Yu family—basically had everything you could want. Ming Qi remembered that Jiang Jianian liked gaming; there just happened to be a famous esports accessories store on the eighth floor. After successfully buying a mouse and keyboard, he went up to the twelfth floor, where there was a flower tea shop. He’d heard their handmade pastries were excellent—perfect as a gift for Aunt Lin.
The shop was full of young girls chatting softly about which teas tasted best. But when a tall young man walked in, all eyes subconsciously drifted toward him.
A black bucket hat and matching mask partially covered his face, making his pale complexion and delicate features stand out even more. At a glance, even if he wasn’t a celebrity, he looked at least like an internet personality.
Ming Qi thought of himself as just a no-name minor actor—unlikely anyone would recognize him—but to be safe, he paid quickly and left.
From the mall to the Wanghe Mountain villa district in the western suburbs was about an hour’s drive.
Sitting in the car, listening to the driver happily chatting with family about their New Year’s Eve dinner, Ming Qi couldn’t help but smile too.
Lowering his head, his pale fingers brushed over his phone screen as he silently reread every message in the chat window. The smile in his eyes deepened.
More than being invited over for the holiday, what made him happiest was that Aunt Lin had been the one to suggest it.
“We’re here, young man. Happy New Year!” The driver stopped at the villa gates and cheerfully bid him farewell.
Ming Qi got out. The cold wind replaced the warmth of the car, making him shiver. He quickly pulled his scarf higher and smiled. “Happy New Year to you too. Drive safe.”
Carrying two large bags of gifts, he walked into the villa area.
Wanghe Mountain Villas were nestled among forests and rivers, blessed with natural scenery. The Jiang family’s villa was especially secluded and quiet.
The security guard, already informed, escorted him to the door and then left. Ming Qi rang the bell. The door opened quickly—but the person who appeared was unexpected enough to wipe three points off his smile.
The visitor, however, didn’t notice at all. Arms crossed, he sized Ming Qi up with narrow eyes, then sneered, “Well, well—if it isn’t our big star. Here to mooch a New Year’s Eve dinner?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?” Jiang Jianian shoved past him, took the bags from Ming Qi, and led him inside, grumbling, “You came—why bring gifts?”
Ming Qi pressed his lips together in a small smile. “I had to.”
Jiang Jianian shot a glance back at the man trailing behind and lowered his voice. “Don’t mind him. My mom and I didn’t invite that family—they just shamelessly forced their way—”
Before he could finish, a loud crash came from the kitchen.
Jiang Jianian’s face changed. He dropped everything and rushed over. “Mom?”
Standing by the island counter, the woman in a festive dark red cheongsam trembled, shards of broken porcelain scattered at her feet.
Jiang Jianian hurried to pull her aside. “What happened?”
At the same time, Ming Qi grabbed a broom and bent down to clean up the pieces—only to hear a mocking snort.
“What else could it be? Heard the little jinx was coming, remembered the past, didn’t she?”
Jiang Jianian’s second aunt cast Ming Qi a look full of interest. “Honestly, sister-in-law, you and Jianian are just too kind. Sure, Ming Qi’s pitiful, all alone—but what about you two? One without a husband, one without a father. Aren’t you pitiful too? And you still invite him for New Year’s? On such a good day, why bring bad luck into the house?”
“Have you forgotten how big brother died? If not for him, your family of three would be celebrating together right now. Instead, big brother was covered in blood—A Qi said every bone in his body was shattered, even the back of his head—”
“Shut up!”
Jiang Jianian held his trembling mother, his eyes burning with fury. “It’s New Year’s—why are you saying this? Afraid my mom might feel too comfortable otherwise?”
But it was too late.
“Jianian… Jianian…”
Jiang’s mother trembled more violently, her nails digging into Jiang Jianian’s arm. He winced, but she seemed completely unaware.
“You’re right… Jianian can’t get hurt…”
Her grip tightened, her entire demeanor turning frantic. When she looked up again, her eyes were filled with boundless hatred.
She swept everything off the counter and screamed at Ming Qi, “Get out! Stay away from my Jianian!”
A bowl flew and struck Ming Qi’s arm. He flinched, dropping the broom.
Jiang Jianian looked between his mother and Ming Qi, feeling as though a mountain pressed down on him. He could barely breathe.
“Mom, don’t overthink. I’ll take you to rest, okay?”
But she shook her head violently. “No! Make him leave!”
“…It’s fine. I’ll go.” Ming Qi straightened slowly, voice soft.
After a long pause, Jiang Jianian closed his eyes. “Brother… I’m sorry.”
Ming Qi forced a smile. “It’s not your fault. I’ll head out. Happy New Year.”
He left.
But before he got far, a voice called out:
“Wait.”
Jiang Jianian’s cousin approached with a smile. “Aunt says take your trash with you too.”
Then, lowering his voice, it coiled like a snake:
“You got away last time. Next time? No guarantees.”
Later, walking alone through the snow, Ming Qi didn’t stop.
The wind cut through his limbs, his fever returning. Still, he kept walking—almost punishing himself.
Until a black Koenigsegg slowed beside him.
“Mr. Ming.”
The window rolled down, revealing a strikingly handsome man.
In the freezing weather, Yu Qinzhou wore only a black shirt, collar slightly open, exposing pale skin and defined collarbones. He tapped the steering wheel lazily.
“Need a ride?”
Ming Qi hesitated… then smiled faintly.
“Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Yu.”
“Do you think I care about that little bit of money?” Yu Qinzhou smirked later.
Ming Qi fell silent.
Of course he didn’t.
Now the head of the Yu family, with a billion-dollar empire—why would he care about the price of a towel?
But Ming Qi couldn’t accept kindness without repayment.
Not long after, he lost consciousness.