The Truth Behind the Marriage

Yiran's fingers tightened around the note.

"Who are you?"

A single question. But it carried a thousand threats.

She swallowed, her throat dry.

Last night's message had been a warning—"You shouldn't be here."

But this one was different.

It wasn't telling her to leave.

It was trying to confirm something.

She exhaled slowly, pressing her thumb against the fine red paper.

Whoever had written this knew something was wrong.

But how much did they know?

Did they suspect she wasn't Yuxuan?

Or were they just confused by the sudden change in the bride?

Her pulse quickened as she read the words again.

If someone was questioning her identity, then that meant—

They had expected Yuxuan to act differently.

She thought back to the way the Lu family had reacted to her during breakfast. The calculated smiles. The carefully measured words.

Had they noticed something was off too?

A quiet creak echoed from the hallway outside.

Yiran's breath caught.

Her eyes snapped toward the bedroom door.

The house had been silent just moments ago. But now—someone was there.

Watching.

She forced herself to breathe evenly, carefully setting the note back onto the vanity table.

Then, with deliberate slowness, she turned.

The moment she did, she saw it—

A faint shadow beneath the doorframe.

Someone was standing outside.

Listening. Waiting.

Yiran didn't move.

Instead, she reached for the hairbrush on the vanity—a simple, unthreatening action.

She ran it through her hair, pretending she hadn't noticed.

Seconds passed.

Then—the shadow shifted.

A slow, careful retreat.

The footsteps were nearly soundless, but she heard them.

Whoever it was had been standing there for a while.

And now, they were leaving.

Yiran forced herself to keep brushing her hair until the hallway was silent again.

Then, she slowly set the brush down.

Someone in this house was testing her.

And if she made even one wrong move—

They would know she wasn't Xia Yuxuan.

Yiran stayed still, listening.

The hallway had gone silent.

Whoever had been watching her was gone now.

But the feeling of being observed lingered, like a cold breath against her skin.

She turned back to the vanity, her fingers hovering over the red envelope.

"Who are you?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Whoever had left this note had doubts about her identity—but they hadn't exposed her. Not yet.

Which meant one thing.

They weren't certain.

If they knew the truth, they wouldn't have left a question. They would have left a threat.

That meant she still had time.

But time for what?

Her fingers tapped against the wooden surface as she ran through the possibilities.

Who in this house would question her identity?

The Lu family elders? Unlikely. They didn't seem overly concerned about who married Lu Zeyan—as long as the marriage happened.

The servants? Possible. They had been distant, careful. But would a servant dare to leave her a message like this?

That left only one category.

Someone close to Yuxuan.

Someone who had expected a different bride.

A sharp knock at the door made her jolt slightly.

She turned just as the door opened.

A different maid this time—young, neatly dressed, eyes lowered. "Madam, the Master has requested your presence."

Yiran's fingers stilled.

Lu Zeyan.

She met the maid's gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation.

None.

This girl was careful—too careful. She had been trained to serve without revealing anything.

Yiran inhaled slowly before nodding. "Where is he?"

"The study, Madam."

A moment of silence.

Then, Yiran turned back to the vanity, picking up the note.

She folded it once, slipping it beneath a book before standing. "Lead the way."

As she followed the maid down the long, quiet hallways, her mind spun with possibilities.

What did Lu Zeyan want from her now?

And more importantly—

Was he the one testing her?

The study doors loomed ahead, carved with intricate gold inlays, the kind that spoke of old money and untouchable power.

The maid stopped just outside, bowing slightly before stepping aside.

Yiran didn't hesitate. She pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

The scent of aged leather and crisp paper filled the air. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, the dark mahogany furniture polished to perfection. A single massive window let in streaks of afternoon light, illuminating the man behind the desk.

Lu Zeyan.

He didn't look up immediately.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the wooden surface, his attention still on the document before him.

Yiran remained standing.

Waiting.

The quiet stretched between them, deliberate and controlled.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he closed the file and lifted his gaze.

"Sit."

A simple command.

Yiran moved without hesitation, lowering herself into the chair across from him.

He studied her, not speaking, just watching.

That was the thing about Lu Zeyan—he didn't need to raise his voice to make people uneasy.

He let the silence do the work for him.

Yiran met his gaze evenly, refusing to fidget under his scrutiny. "You asked for me."

A flicker of amusement passed through his dark eyes.

"Yes."

Nothing more.

Yiran exhaled slowly. Another test.

"What is it?" she asked, keeping her voice calm.

Lu Zeyan tilted his head slightly, as if deciding something.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"There's an event tonight."

Yiran blinked. That's what this was about?

She had expected something more… dangerous. A direct confrontation. A veiled threat.

Instead, he was talking about social gatherings?

Still, she remained cautious. "What kind of event?"

"A private gathering. The Lu family and a few select associates," he said smoothly. Then, with a tone so even it almost sounded casual, he added, "You will attend as my wife."

Yiran kept her expression neutral.

Of course. This was part of the role.

But something in the way he phrased it…

You will attend.

Not we will attend.

Yiran exhaled lightly. "Do you expect me to play the loving wife?"

Lu Zeyan smirked faintly. "I expect you to listen."

Her fingers curled slightly against the armrest. "To what?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His voice remained calm, unreadable.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Yiran left Lu Zeyan's study with measured steps, her mind still replaying his words.

"You will attend."

"I expect you to listen."

"You'll find out soon enough."

She exhaled slowly.

This wasn't just about presenting herself as his wife.

Something else was happening at that event.

But what?

And more importantly—what role was she supposed to play in it?

She turned down the long hallway leading back to her wing of the estate. The Lu mansion was grand, but the sheer silence pressing against the walls made it feel more like a palace waiting for a storm.

Her heels clicked softly against the polished marble.

Then—

A whisper of movement.

Too quiet to be an accident.

Yiran stopped.

Her gaze flickered to the side, catching the faintest shift in shadow near one of the decorative pillars.

She wasn't alone.

She straightened, keeping her expression neutral. "Are you going to keep hiding?"

A beat of silence.

Then—a figure stepped forward.

A woman.

Dressed in the crisp uniform of the estate's household staff, head slightly bowed in deference. But something about her posture was wrong.

She wasn't a servant who had just happened to be passing by.

She had been waiting.

Yiran studied her carefully. "You were following me."

The woman didn't deny it.

Instead, she hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before finally speaking.

"Don't go tonight."

Yiran's heart skipped.

The words were quiet, spoken just above a whisper.

A warning.

She kept her expression calm. "Why?"

The woman's lips parted slightly, but no answer came.

Then—quick, almost too fast to catch—her eyes flicked past Yiran, toward the hallway behind her.

As if checking for something.

Or someone.

A sharp tension gripped Yiran's spine.

Who was she afraid of?

Before she could press further, the woman stepped back.

And just like that, she dipped into a deep bow—the perfect image of an obedient servant.

"Forgive me, Madam. I've overstepped."

Then, without another word, she turned and disappeared down the hall.

Yiran watched her go, every nerve in her body on edge.

She had been warned.

And whoever that woman was—she had been terrified of being caught.

Yiran inhaled slowly.

This wasn't just a social event.

This was something else.

And now, she had no choice but to walk straight into it.

The maids worked around her in quiet efficiency, adjusting the gown's delicate silk folds, fastening the diamond clasp of the necklace at her throat.

Yiran remained still, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

The woman looking back at her was flawless—polished, composed, untouchable.

But inside?

Her thoughts were tangled.

Don't go tonight.

The servant's warning refused to leave her mind.

Someone in this house knew something.

But what?

Was the event dangerous?

Or… was it dangerous for her?

She exhaled slowly, keeping her expression neutral as a maid carefully fastened her earrings.

Should she tell Lu Zeyan?

No.

The idea was absurd.

He was the last person she could trust.

And if he already knew what was waiting for her at this event, then… had he sent her into it on purpose?

Her fingers curled slightly in her lap.

The final touch was applied—a deep red lipstick, rich and bold.

A fitting color for someone walking straight into the unknown.

A quiet knock at the door.

"Madam, the car is ready."

Yiran exhaled lightly, smoothing down the front of her gown before rising.

The weight of silk against her skin felt heavier than it should.

She walked toward the door, her steps even. Controlled.

She wouldn't hesitate. Wouldn't falter.

Whatever was waiting for her tonight, she would face it head-on.

The hallway was dimly lit as she descended the grand staircase. The entrance doors were already open, the sleek black car waiting for her outside.

Lu Zeyan was nowhere to be seen.

Of course.

She was expected to arrive on her own.

Yiran stepped forward, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she neared the waiting vehicle.

And then—

A shiver ran down her spine.

She wasn't sure what made her turn.

Maybe it was instinct.

Maybe it was something else.

But as she glanced toward the far end of the estate grounds—

She saw her.

The servant from earlier.

Standing half-hidden in the shadows, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

Watching.

Yiran's pulse tightened.

The woman's gaze was unreadable, but something about her felt different this time.

It wasn't just fear.

It was resignation.

As if she had already decided—

Tonight, something was going to happen.

And there was nothing Yiran could do to stop it.