Reuniting with Shang Chi was already a beautiful dream.
Marrying Shang Chi was like a dazzling star I dared not even dream of touching.
But now, Shang Chi says,
"Shall we have a romance after marriage?"
Their intertwined fingers pressed together intimately, her slightly cool fingertips resting against the skin of his hand. She could still feel the vibrant pulse of blood rushing beneath the winding veins.
Mingzhu clutched the bouquet tighter, flushed like a light buzz, her brow and eyelids tinged with pale pink.
"Yes."
Her voice trembled at the end, just as it had when she accepted his marriage proposal.
Mingzhu swallowed hard, then raised her voice to repeat her answer.
"Yes."
This time, there was no tremor, no hesitation.
Her voice rang crisp and clear.
Like a tender young bamboo shoot, striving to reach the sun as it grows.
-
Shang Chi first dropped Mingzhu off at Qingping Street before driving back to his residence near Yueshen Group.
The two-hundred-plus-square-meter flat featured floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, offering a view of the shimmering Jinjiang River winding through the city under the orange sunset.
His personal assistant, having received advance notice, had already packed two large suitcases.
Seeing Shang Chi enter, the assistant wore an expression of sheer relief, eyes pleading as he asked, "Mr. Shang, I didn't understand the message you sent me later."
What did "No longer staying at Yunshangfu, but clothes still to be delivered, plus a batch of women's ready-to-wear" mean?
The assistant stared at the phone screen for a long moment, a vague suspicion forming in his mind, yet he dared not confirm it.
Shang Chi nodded at him, his tone matter-of-fact.
"Just got married. Moved in with my wife. There's not enough space for all my clothes over there, so I'm still having them delivered here for now."
Shang Chi had no particular preferences regarding clothing or accessories. Several luxury brands regularly delivered their new seasonal collections to fill his walk-in closet—spacious enough to be a room in itself—leaving him free to choose whatever he wanted.
His personal assistant's jaw dropped.
He knew about the tug-of-war between Shang Chi and his mother over arranged marriages. Given Shang Chi's single-minded focus on work, he'd assumed Shang Chi would either marry late or not at all.
And now, out of nowhere, he'd announced his marriage?
The assistant couldn't decide whether to be more shocked by Shang Chi's quiet marriage or by the fact that his other residence couldn't hold his new clothes.
Could it be...
"Does the Mrs. have a lot of clothes and jewelry? Any favorite brands?"
The personal assistant asked diligently, adding a compliment, "The Mrs. must have her own distinct sense of style. She and you, Mr. Shang, are truly a perfect match!"
Never mind why they were a match.
Married couples were always the perfect pairing, the ultimate match made in heaven.
The essential principle for any worker: suck up hard.
"..."
Shang Chi stood frozen, his expression complex.
He recalled his encounters with Mingzhuo. Aside from that first meeting where she wore a demure, elegant bell-sleeved gown, the subsequent two times they met, the girl had been dressed casually.
Sweatshirts and pants, her long hair loosely tied back, revealing a fair, delicate face.
Her looks carried her entirely.
Jewelry? Forget it.
Her earlobes were round and snow-white, without even a piercing.
To play the piano comfortably, her hands remained bare.
Her only accessory now was the wedding ring suspended by a platinum chain at her throat.
Shang Chi pondered this, a faint smile spreading across his lowered eyes.
Meeting his personal assistant's eager gaze, he said, " "No particular preference. Have every brand send samples first. We'll see which one she favors later."
The assistant nodded. "Understood, Mr. Shang. Should I coordinate the lady's measurements with the brand assistants?"
Shang Chi: "..."
After a few seconds of contemplation, Shang Chi pulled out his phone and opened a WeChat chat.
[Shang Chi: Do you have Xiao Zhu's clothing size data?]
The other end replied quickly.
[He Yin: ?]
[He Yin: What's this for?]
Shang Chi responded expressionlessly.
[Shang Chi: To buy clothes for my future sister as a meet-and-greet gift.]
[He Yin: ?]
[Shang Chi: ?]
After a moment, He Yin sent over a few numbers.
[He Yin: The measurements Boss Qi asked for. Shang Chi, you better be buying clothes for your sister.]
Ignoring Ms. He Yin's sarcastic tone, Shang Chi immediately forwarded the numbers to his personal assistant.
"Alter the design based on these measurements."
His gaze slipped downward, quickly scanning the figure.
No wonder it felt like you could wrap both hands around her waist.
How could she be so thin?
She eats so little, like a cat nibbling at scraps.
Just as the personal assistant opened the group chat with several luxury brand contacts, Shang Chi spoke again in his usual slow drawl.
"Oh, and find me a cooking instructor."
"Someone who can come to the corporate cafeteria for lessons at noon."
Assistant: "Yes, Mr. Shang... Huh?"
Wait, hold up.
What kind of teacher?
What lessons?
She stared at Shang Chi in utter shock. After confirming her boss wasn't joking, she gasped in disbelief.
Goodness gracious, is this the magic of marriage?
The research genius transforming into a domestic god!
-
Qingping Street.
Mingzhu entered the house carrying flowers and a bag of her clothes.
Thinking that Shang Chi would be moving his things over soon, she paced the living room twice before anxiety suddenly hit her.
The place should still be clean, right? Nothing's been left out, right?
Ming Zhu cleaned regularly herself, and Qi Kejing arranged for a cleaning lady to come every month to tackle those hard-to-reach spots.
She was also used to putting things back where they belonged after use.
But... but...
Frowning, Mingzhu pulled out her phone, found Zhao Xi's WeChat, and sent a voice message.
"Xiao Xi, are you free right now?"
Zhao Xi was a bona fide internet addict, replying almost instantly with a voice message accompanied by the crunch of an apple being bitten into.
"Totally free! What's up, Mingzhu? Need something?"
Mingzhu switched to a video call.
As the young girl's sweet voice echoed from the phone's speaker—"Hello? Hello? Mingzhu, what do you need help with?"—she raised her wrist, awkwardly trying to point the camera toward the living room.
Her tone carried a hint of shy embarrassment.
"I want you to help me see if anything looks untidy."
Zhao Xi: "No problem! But Mingzhu, could you turn on a light? It's too dark right now, I can't see clearly through the lens."
Mingzhu let out an "Ah" and hurriedly turned to fumble for the light switch.
Click.
The light flared on.
Zhao Xi: "Alright, lights on. Sister Mingzhu, turn the camera slowly—not too fast, I get dizzy easily..."
Mingzhu stared at the pitch-black viewfinder. She was used to it, yet now—with a marriage certificate tucked in her skirt pocket—her lips tightened slightly, a vague melancholy settling over her.
Zhao Xi stared at the unresponsive screen, thinking Mingzhu hadn't heard him. He raised his voice: "Sis Mingzhu?"
Mingzhu replied: "Okay, I got it."
Under Zhao Xi's direction, she slowly moved her phone, letting the camera sweep over every corner.
Zhao Xi: "Super—super clean! Nothing needs tidying up, Mingzhu. Is someone coming over?"
Mingzhu fluttered her eyelashes and murmured, "Yeah, a friend."
Learning this friend would be staying overnight, Zhao Xi immediately asked, "How close are you? Really close, or just acquaintances?"
Mingzhu hesitated. "Just acquaintances...?"
Not very close.
But married.
So does that make us semi-close?
Zhao Xi enthusiastically shared: "Then have her sleep in the guest room. Listen to me, Xiao Zhuo. I often sleep over at my friends' places. You can lay out toiletries in the bathroom beforehand and pull the comforter out to the foot of the bed."
"Prepare both thick and thin blankets so she can choose—some people run hot, others run cold. And also..."
"...?"
Ming Zhuo muddled through preparing the guest room.
After hanging up,
she stood before the guest room door, scratching her cheek with her knuckles before turning toward the entrance where a knock had just sounded.
It should be...
It should be right, right?