Chapter 23: Marriage Part 1

The next day, Yan Xinfeng opened his eyes from his hangover, feeling like no one in the world was funnier than himself.

Spending money on the bastard he liked, not daring to utter a peep after being mocked and humiliated, then drowning himself in booze, only to greet the next day’s sun with a pounding headache—perfect.

He staggered into the bathroom, sparing half a thought to wonder why he hadn’t ended up sleeping on the floor. Unfortunately, the headache was too intense, and he couldn’t recall anything.

Once the cool water soaked his palms, Yan Xinfeng suddenly remembered a soft chuckle—it was Wei Tingxia’s voice.

He had kissed his forehead, as if full of affection.

‘Young Master, thank you… I didn’t know before.’

He didn’t even bother drying the water from his face. Yan Xinfeng strode to the door in big steps, flung it open, and looked at Hu Yao. “Was he here last night?”

Hu Yao nodded, his gaze lingering on Yan Xinfeng’s soaked collar. “Yes, Mr. Wei just left not long ago.”

At those words, Yan Xinfeng panicked. It hadn’t been a hallucination—Wei Tingxia had really come, and they’d talked a lot. He’d even asked if he loved him.

What did that mean? Wei Tingxia had something he didn’t know?

Yan Xinfeng tugged at the corner of his mouth, wanting to make a call, but then he remembered his phone had been smashed last night. He turned to Hu Yao. “Spare phone.”

Hu Yao pulled one out from his pocket. Yan Xinfeng took it, shut the door, and dialed.

Lu Zhao picked up, voice thick with sleep. “…Are you sick?”

“Is Xu Wei with you?” Yan Xinfeng asked.

“No,” Lu Zhao yawned. “She has some exhibition to handle, so we slept in separate rooms tonight.”

“Good.” Yan Xinfeng pulled open the curtains. “I need to ask you something.”

“First off, separate rooms suck.” Lu Zhao said. “Second, what is it?”

Yan Xinfeng said, “He said he didn’t know.”

“What the hell? Who? Wei Tingxia?” Lu Zhao laughed, then voiced the exact same thought as Yan Xinfeng. “He has something he doesn’t know?”

“Clearly.”

Yan Xinfeng wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He felt like he was touching the barrier of some massive truth, on the verge of a breakthrough. “We fought. He said I didn’t love him. I said I did. Then he said he didn’t know. What does that mean?”

“Huh?” Lu Zhao was stunned too.

Yan Xinfeng and Wei Tingxia fought all the time—Lu Zhao was used to it—but they’d never argued over whether they loved each other. That was supposed to be obvious to everyone.

“You mean,” he confirmed again, “you two started fighting because he doubted you didn’t love him, then you passionately confessed that you loved him to death, and he said he didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” Yan Xinfeng was irritated and anxious—Wei Tingxia could come back any moment. “So what does he mean—”

“—It means he loves you too.”

The sudden words cut off Yan Xinfeng’s question. In an instant, all his movements froze. He stiffened and slowly turned around, locking eyes with Wei Tingxia, who leaned against the doorframe.

Wei Tingxia curved his lips into a smile.

At the same time, Lu Zhao, oblivious to what was happening, yelled into the phone. “Is he nuts? How could he not know? He’s just stringing you along for fun…”

Yan Xinfeng ended the call and tossed the phone onto the floor.

“You love me?” Yan Xinfeng’s voice squeezed out through gritted teeth, each word seething. “What do you mean?”

He stared deathly at Wei Tingxia, chest heaving violently, eyes red-rimmed, as if he’d drop dead without an answer.

Wei Tingxia’s smile didn’t fade at the question—in fact, it deepened. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he straightened up leisurely and walked step by step toward the center of the room, each footfall landing like a drumbeat on Yan Xinfeng’s heart.

“The literal meaning.” Wei Tingxia finally stopped in front of him. “You shouted it so loud, said you loved me to death. I’m deeply touched.”

Yan Xinfeng’s temple twitched. He gritted his teeth and forced out, “I don’t need your pity or sympathy.”

“I know.”

Wei Tingxia shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair, tilting his head. “Be serious—have you ever seen me pity anyone?”

No, forget pitying—he was good-tempered if he didn’t kick them while they were down.

Yan Xinfeng’s chest burned with pent-up anger, still feeling toyed with. “Why did you say you didn’t know?”

“Why should I know?” Wei Tingxia shot back. “You’ve never told me.”

Hadn’t he?

Yan Xinfeng narrowed his eyes. “Four years, Wei Tingxia. If you’re just trying to sweet-talk me to keep spending my money, find a more convincing excuse.”

He still wouldn’t believe it. Rather than Wei Tingxia loving him all along and only realizing it today, it was more likely this jerk wanted to keep the cash flowing and picked a half-decent excuse to string him along.

Yan Xinfeng could accept that—he just couldn’t swallow the frustration.

“Spend your crappy money?” Wei Tingxia sneered. “What do you have besides money? Hmm?”

Yan Xinfeng raised a brow. “My money’s crap? You eat my food, drink my booze, and now you complain my money’s crap?”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t eat or drink yours.” Wei Tingxia nodded. “Of course you’d think that. You rich people are all so stingy—give something and expect a return. Wasting all this time on me. Feel like a huge loss, right?”

“No, that’s not what I said.” Yan Xinfeng cut off the false accusation. “I’ve never complained about you spending my money.”

“You haven’t?” Wei Tingxia laughed like it was the funniest joke, his smile edged with barbs. “Then what’s with tallying up those four years now? Reminding me I owe you? Or wanting me groveling in gratitude?”

“I’m tallying?!” Yan Xinfeng laughed in fury at the turnaround, voice rising. “Who brought up ‘crappy money’ first? Wei Tingxia, be reasonable! You started it!”

“Reasonable? With someone like you, who has an abacus carved into his bones?”

Wei Tingxia stepped closer, eyes sharp as knives. “All these years, besides giving me money, what else have you given? Oh, right—we slept together. Besides that? Everyone thinks you’re keeping me. Only you think it’s a relationship!”

A vein throbbed at Yan Xinfeng’s temple. “Quit twisting things around! Back in college, I properly pursued you—took you to dinner, went on dates. How’s that not a relationship? They’re blind, not my problem. Don’t take it out on me!”

“Screw that!”

Wei Tingxia lost his patience too, no longer caring about decorum. He jabbed a finger at the door. “Go ask around outside. Who thinks I’m your boyfriend? Who thinks I’m your fiancé? Hmm? Everyone figures I forced my way onto you!”

“—Then marry me!”

His shout was loud, but Yan Xinfeng’s was louder. “Let’s get married right now. My properties, my shares—half of everything’s yours. I’ll hold a press conference right away, let the whole world know. Do you dare?!”

“…”

He said it with force, clearly dead serious, his red eyes fixed on Wei Tingxia, waiting for a reaction.

“You serious?” Wei Tingxia asked. “Yan Xinfeng, think it through. Publicly marrying a man does you zero favors. Does your mom know? Your shareholders?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m only asking one thing—will you marry me or not?”

Wei Tingxia fell silent. They stood close, but their locked gazes felt like an uncrossable chasm. Yan Xinfeng’s chest burned with fire, waiting for something to extinguish it.

A moment later, he gave a bitter laugh and nodded. “You won’t.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then let’s go right now.” Yan Xinfeng watched Wei Tingxia’s every move, spotting the hesitation. “You always say I’m too much, but how have you treated me?”

He said earnestly, “Wei Tingxia, you can’t do this to me.”

Wei Tingxia’s voice was stiff. “You can’t do this to me either.”

Yan Xinfeng said nothing more, just held his gaze. Red-rimmed eyes glimmered with the tears of being backed into a corner.

The moment Wei Tingxia saw those tears, it was like a bucket of cold water doused him from head to toe. All hesitation and worry scattered.

He exhaled deeply and asked Yan Xinfeng, “Do you have your ID?”

Yan Xinfeng’s eyes lit up.

…

…

So at nine in the morning, as soon as the civil affairs bureau opened, staffer Little Liu received a pair of newlyweds.

This couple had an unusual aura—no lovey-dovey sweetness like normal pairs, no nerves. They moved like enemies, each step matching the other’s, as if ready to elbow the other in the next second.

“Have a seat, please.”

Little Liu adopted a professional smile.

“Hear that? Sit down.” The shorter one in the couple said. “You planning to fill out the forms standing up?”

The taller one fired back without missing a beat, sneering. “True, with my height, standing would be a hassle.”

They were locked in a standoff, neither yielding. Little Liu wondered if they’d come to marry or divorce.

“Alright, please show your IDs—original ID cards and three two-inch red-background photos. Do you have everything?”

The couple exchanged a glance. The taller one pulled a manila envelope from his pocket and handed it to Little Liu.

She checked it—exactly six photos inside, edges neatly trimmed. From their clothes, it was clear these were freshly taken.

“Okay…”

She hesitated, eyes darting between them.

Sensing her gaze, the couple simultaneously flashed pleasant smiles.

“We really do want to get married.” The shorter one said softly. “This is just how we get along. No need to worry.”

“Yeah.” The tall one chimed in. “I’m about to love him to death.”

Little Liu pulled out two application forms and handed them over. “Please fill out the marriage registration applications. Pens are right there.”

The forms were simple. Half a minute later, Little Liu collected them, verified the IDs matched, stamped the fresh marriage certificates with the official seal, and presented them.

“And with that, you’re legally married.” She smiled sweetly. “Wishing you harmony, a long life together—and the photo studio’s next door for wedding pics. You can line up there.”

Each held a marriage certificate, expressions intriguing—like post-impulse realization of being legally bound, no regrets, just disbelief.

The tall one asked, “Go take them?”

“You sure?” The other countered. “You didn’t change clothes.”

“Don’t act like you smell like roses. Going or not?”

“Go go go. First marriage of my life—gotta commemorate it.”

They shoved and bantered their way out. Little Liu found it amusing and chatted with her colleague.

“They’re hilarious.” She shared. “And so good-looking too. Perfect match.”

Her colleague glanced over. “Yeah, don’t see pairs like that often.”

Little Liu nodded, then felt the tall man looked familiar. She frowned, a vague memory flickering, but she couldn’t place it. It itched like ants crawling on her skin—unsettling.

Even at lunch, she pondered it.

The moment she set her tray in the return slot, it clicked—

She had seen that man, but not in real life—on the cover of a finance magazine.

Yan Xinfeng, A City’s youngest billionaire, a financial powerhouse.

Little Liu gasped, whipping around to the lobby. The couple was long gone, but her mind roiled—

Yan Xinfeng got married?