Chapter 8: Marrying the Seriously Ill Rich Young Man (8)

The room was opulent, but with her veil covering her face, Zhong Lingling could not appreciate it one bit. She sat gracefully on the edge of the soft bed, her heart filled with unease.

"Come on, be careful!" Xiang Zongyin helped Xiang Aoran as they finally laid Xiang Yimo flat on the bed.

"Dad, with Yimo like this, how are we supposed to go through with unveiling the bride and consummating the marriage?" Xiang Aoran asked somewhat abruptly.

"Are you worrying too much, kid? Let's go! We're leaving!" Xiang Zongyin patted Xiang Aoran's arm.

Afterwards, he turned to Zhong Lingling and said, "Lingling, I'm really sorry to put you through this! From now on, Yimo is in your hands!"

His voice trembled slightly, and Zhong Lingling could hear the profound paternal love in his tone.

She was genuinely envious of Xiang Yimo, for his father loved him so, unlike her own father, who had sold her to marriage at such a young age to pay off gambling debts.

"Dad, don't worry!" Zhong Lingling replied with a heartfelt emotion, which almost seemed instinctively compliant.

Xiang Zongyin nodded repeatedly. "Good child! Marrying into the Xiang Family, we will never mistreat you!"

"Thank you, dad!" Even Zhong Lingling herself was surprised at how smoothly she called out 'dad'.

After all, the Zhong Family had taken a large dowry from them, and it was not the time to be considering annulment.

Since she had married into the family, she couldn't skimp on the proper etiquettes!

Even though three hundred thousand yuan was a pittance for the Xiang Family, it was no small amount for the Zhong Family.

"Sister-in-law, we'll leave you two alone to rest now!" Xiang Aoran tugged at his father's arm. "Dad, are we not leaving yet, or do you want to hang around here for a longer chat?"

Zhong Lingling gave a low chuckle.

Only then did the father and son leave the room together.

In the room, only Zhong Lingling and Xiang Yimo remained, with the latter still having not opened his eyes at all.

He lay on the bright red bed like a dead man, still in a deep sleep.

Time ticked away; traditionally, the bride's veil was to be lifted by the husband, but as she waited, there was no movement from her new husband.

Zhong Lingling couldn't help but find the situation ironically amusing. Indeed, her husband was not like most men; he was so ill he couldn't even recognize people, and perhaps he didn't even know he'd been taken to the ceremony hall today, let alone that they had exchanged wedding vows.

Expecting him to lift her veil was a dream.

Having been running around all day, apart from some porridge in the morning, she hadn't had anything to eat. Now her stomach was growling with hunger.

With that thought, Zhong Lingling could no longer contain herself and lifted the red veil impulsively.

Suddenly, the room seemed much brighter, and even the air felt fresher.

She took a deep breath and looked around; the bedroom was twice the size of her entire former home, with decor and furnishings that were elegant and opulent. The European-style room, from the ceiling fixtures and lamps to the curtains and furniture, was so luxurious it would leave one speechless, just like a presidential suite.

This Cinderella had certainly broadened her horizons.

For many girls, marrying into wealth was a dream, but when it happened to her, why did everything feel so tragic?

Her groom was more like a corpse than a live person.

She turned her head, glancing towards the bed. After all, he was her bridegroom, and she was quite curious about what her husband looked like.

He must be dark, thin, untidy like a bat, and old like an uncle.

As Zhong Lingling thought this, her gaze unintentionally fell upon the sleeping man's face in the middle of the bed. Then, she went still for a moment, stunned for several seconds.