chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Shameless Throb

Plum Rain Chronicles

The moniker "Mrs. He" lingered on Zhong Shuning's tongue like a bitter pill. He Wenli's parting words echoed in the marble hallway as he vanished into the storm - "I'll have Chen Zui handle the orphanage matter."

She stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, the opulence of the space suffocating. The minimalist black-and-white decor mirrored He Wenli's own enigmatic aura - cold, calculated, impenetrable.

"Your toiletries are ready, madam." Zhang Ma bowed slightly, her voice honeyed but wary. "The wardrobe contains garments tailored to your measurements."

Measurements. The word pricked Zhong Shuning's conscience. How long had He Wenli been observing her? Calculating her every move?

The rain drummed against the windows as she stepped into the marble bath. Steam curled around the bergamot-scented candles he'd placed on the vanity - a subtle reminder of his presence even in absence.

By dawn, exhaustion claimed her. She awoke to find sunlight slicing through gauzy curtains, the bedroom now bathed in golden hour. A vase of white orchids graced the nightstand, their petals glistening with dew.

The truth struck her like a slap: She'd married a ghost.

He Wenli's Gambit

Upstairs, He Wenli paced before floor-to-ceiling bookshelves containing rare first editions. His mobile buzzed incessantly - security feeds from Zhong's compound, stock market updates, encrypted messages from Beijing.

"Sir, the divorce paperwork from Zhou's side just arrived." Chen Zui entered noiselessly, placing a dossier on the obsidian desk.

He Wenli's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Timing's perfect. Schedule the press conference for noon."

As Chen Zui withdrew, He Wenli's gaze fell on a framed photograph of Zhong Shuning in her ballet recital dress - the same one she'd worn the night he'd rescued her from the rain. His thumb traced the edge of the frame.

"She still doesn't understand," he murmured to the empty room.

Storm's Eye

Zhong Shuning descended to the kitchen, where breakfast awaited - croissants still warm from the oven, fresh berries arranged like blood-red jewels on porcelain.

"Tea?" Zhang Ma gestured to a silver pot emitting delicate jasmine fragrance.

The domesticity felt alien. Zhong Shuning picked at her food, her mind racing. Had He Wenli truly done this - married her, secured the orphanage's future, all while remaining untouchable?

Her phone buzzed. A message from Zhou Boyu's new girlfriend lit up the screen: [Congrats on becoming Mrs. He!]

The taunt cut deeper than expected. Zhong Shuning's fingers flew across the screen: [Who told you that?]

[Your new husband's Weibo update. Check it out!]

She did. The photo showed He Wenli signing documents in his study, golden morning light framing his profile. The caption read: New chapter begins.

The Real Game

At noon, paparazzi swarmed the He residence. He Wenli emerged wearing a charcoal-gray suit, Zhong Shuning on his arm. Their kiss on the steps was calculated perfection - lips barely grazing, eyes avoiding contact.

"Any comment on your sudden marriage?" a reporter shouted.

He Wenli's smile was a masterpiece of detachment. "Love finds a way."

Behind the cameras, Chen Zui adjusted his earpiece. "Sir, Zhou's people are at the club again."

"Let them come." He Wenli's voice carried through the earpiece like a blade. "Prepare the usual entertainment."

As the car accelerated, Zhong Shuning noticed the contract in He Wenli's tailored blazer pocket - the prenuptial agreement she'd signed, now marked with red ink in sections she hadn't bothered to read.

Code Red

Back at the penthouse, He Wenli received an urgent message: [Heir apparent's private jet landed.]

He unlocked his phone, accessing encrypted files labeled Project Phoenix. Surveillance footage played - Zhou Boyu entering a downtown hotel with a mystery woman, their laughter echoing through the corridors.

"Interesting," He Wenli murmured. "Tell Mr. Zhou I'll honor our wager."

He dialed another number. "Prepare the jet. We leave tonight."

As he ended the call, his gaze fell on Zhong Shuning napping on the sofa. Her hair fanned out like dark silk against the cream cushions, vulnerability exposed. For a moment, his mask slipped.

"If you knew what I've planned," he whispered, "you'd run screaming."

Outside, thunder rumbled. Another storm brewed - one that would change everything.