‌Chapter 19: Long Biao

"I heard getting a marriage license requires household registration and ID. How did you manage it?"

"You don't need to know."

"Are they fake?"

"The civil affairs department's seal is on them. Verify it yourself if you doubt."

Ye Chenghuan picked up the marriage certificate, staring at it silently. Lin Peishan's lips curled faintly. "Regretting it already?"

He smiled wryly. "Do you know what this little booklet means?"

Her eyes darkened. "To me, it means shame, helplessness… and chains."

"To me, it's responsibility."

The word froze her. Responsibility—once her mantra for family, company, employees—now spoken by this man, it felt like shelter.

"What kind of responsibility?"

"To cherish, protect, and… love you." His gaze pinned her.

Lin Peishan's pulse quickened. She turned to the window. "This is transactional. Nothing more."

"Is that all?"

"Yes!"

He slurped congee loudly, ending the conversation. She bit back softer words, snapping instead: "The stylists are waiting. Hurry up."

Ye Chenghuan sighed. "Even prisoners get last meals."

She stormed out. Moments later, her icy secretary Xia Ruyan appeared. "Change clothes. Photoshoot."

Pinned in a makeup chair, Ye Chenghuan endured stylists' sighs. "Mr. Ye, your features are good, but next to Ms. Lin…"

"What? I radiate charm!"

"You radiate contrast."

He winked. "Charm's overrated. She married me, didn't she?"

Transformed, he faced the mirror: sharp jawline, rebel's smirk, eyes glinting like honed steel. Stylists gaped.

Xia Ruyan entered, cheeks pinkening. "They're ready for you."

On the beach, Lin Peishan sat beneath a rose-draped canopy, her white gown cascading like sea foam.

"Closer, Mr. Ye!" the photographer urged.

Ye Chenghuan slid an arm around her waist, lips brushing her ear. "Smile, wife. It's our wedding day."

She stiffened as his free hand flashed a peace sign.

"Must you… vandalize every photo?" she hissed.

"It's iconic! Admit it—I'm adorably retro."

"You're unbearable."

The camera clicked—goddess and jester, frozen in dissonant harmony.

When the photographer suggested a kiss, Lin Peishan bolted. Ye Chenghuan yanked her back, capturing her lips with a conqueror's hunger.

Flashbulbs immortalized her shock: eyes wide, fists clenched, then… melting.

Post-shoot, Lin Peishan fled to the office. Ye Chenghuan traced his lips, her rosewater scent lingering, before vanishing toward the sea.

At Mist Bar, Ding Xiang swirled brandy. "Seeking Long Biao? That debt collects souls."

"I'll risk it."

She scribbled an address. "1 Villa, Kowloon Pond."

He toasted her. "Next round's on me."

Night swallowed his taxi. Behind tinted windows, Ye Chenghuan's mind unfolded dossiers:

Long Biao—North Hall Master, Qinghong Gang.

In Dragon City, two forces ruled: law… and shadows. The Qinghong Gang's tendrils choked both. Few breathed Long Biao's name aloud.

Tonight, shadows would bleed.