I hate him.
I hate Liang Yichen with every functioning cell in my body.
The way he talks, the way he looks at me like I'm a chess piece, the way his presence suffocates every inch of air I breathe.
And the worst part?
I can't escape him.
For one year — three hundred and sixty-five cursed days — I have to play his perfect little wife.
Smile when people look. Sit beside him in meetings. Pretend our marriage isn't a contract built on blackmail.
Love?
What a joke.
The whispers at work didn't make things easier. Everywhere I went, someone was gossiping — and not about me, for once.
"Did you see the wedding photos?"
"She looked like a princess."
"Ten thousand roses, a diamond tiara, a private yacht reception—"
I didn't need to hear the rest.
I knew exactly who they were talking about.
Liang Yiran.
My ex.
My first love.
The boy who promised me forever… and gave it to someone else.
I pretended to focus on my computer screen, but my heart wasn't listening.
Each sentence my colleagues whispered felt like another crack spreading through my chest.
I tried to bury myself in work, but the memories came anyway — like a cruel movie on replay.
___ Flashback___
Ten years ago.
I was sixteen. A lonely, book-obsessed girl who spent more time at the library than at home.
It was a warm afternoon — the kind where the sunlight spills like honey across the pages of your favorite book. I remember sitting in the corner aisle, surrounded by the smell of paper and quiet, when a shadow fell across my notebook.
"Excuse me," a voice said.
I looked up — and there he was.
Yiran.
He looked completely lost, clutching a slip of paper like it was a map to salvation.
"Do you know where I can find this?" he asked.
It was some obscure physics reference book — the kind no one under forty ever borrowed.
I smiled, stood up, and helped him look. We didn't find the book, but we did find a conversation.
He was soft-spoken but curious, with a smile that could turn an ordinary moment into something worth remembering.
From that day on, we kept running into each other — on purpose.
A week later, he offered me half of his lunch.
A month later, we were study partners.
And a few months after that, I worked up the courage to ask him out.
"Bubble tea?" I'd said, trying not to sound desperate.
He'd grinned. "Only if you're buying."
That day was perfect.
We sat in the park, our hands occasionally brushing when we reached for the same straw, laughing about things that weren't even funny.
For a moment, we weren't two kids from messy families and broken expectations — we were just us.
____
And for ten years, I thought that meant something.
The sound of someone typing too loudly snapped me back to reality.
The office lights felt too bright. My heart, too heavy.
I exhaled slowly. One year. I just had to survive one year. After that, I could be free.
When work finally ended, my phone buzzed — Mei.
[Come out tonight. Drinks. Now.]
I hesitated for maybe half a second before typing back: [Fine. But you're buying.]
If I didn't vent soon, I was going to lose my mind.
Yichen was waiting for me at the building's entrance, leaning against his car like he was born in a luxury commercial.
Of course he was.
"Going somewhere?" he asked.
"Out," I said flatly.
"With me," he corrected.
I scoffed. "Not tonight."
"I need to take you somewhere," he said. His tone was serious — too serious.
"Well, I need to get drunk and forget you exist."
His jaw tightened. "You're my wife. I expect you to at least—"
"—Pretend to listen?" I cut him off. "Yeah, not in the mood."
His eyes darkened. "Hua."
I smirked. "Look behind you."
He frowned, turned slightly—
And I ran.
I didn't even look back.
By the time I reached the bar, Mei was already waving from a booth, a cocktail in each hand.
"You look like hell," she said cheerfully.
"I feel worse," I replied, sinking into the seat.
"So spill. Everything."
And I did.
Every insane detail. The contract. The fake marriage. The lawsuit threat. The morning honking incident.
By the time I finished, Mei's jaw was on the floor. "You're telling me you actually married the man who blackmailed you?"
"Technically, yes. Emotionally, I'm still in denial."
She downed her drink and slammed the glass on the table. "You need better hobbies."
We ordered more drinks — bad idea. But I didn't care. The music was too loud, the lights too soft, and the alcohol too comforting.
Mei was laughing at something stupid I said when she suddenly stopped.
"You know, your misfortune started the moment you met that fortune teller."
I blinked. "The old lady?"
She nodded. "You threw those coins in that cursed fountain, remember? Maybe you should go back. Reverse the spell or something."
"That's ridiculous," I said.
She leaned closer. "So is your life."
…She wasn't wrong.
"Fine," I said, standing up on shaky legs. "Let's go exorcise my bad luck."
The night air was cool when we stumbled out of the bar.
The city was quieter now, its glow hazy and dreamlike.
We wandered through the streets until we reached the spot — or at least where I thought it was.
Except… the little fortune-telling stall was gone.
"Wait," I mumbled. "It was right here."
Mei squinted. "Maybe we got the wrong street?"
But then, I saw it.
The fountain.
That same old stone fountain where it all started — where I threw those stupid coins and made those stupid wishes.
Without thinking, I ran toward it.
"Hua!" Mei called, but I was already kneeling, plunging my arms into the cold water.
"What are you doing?" she shouted, horrified.
"If I take the coins back, maybe I can undo it!" I said, my teeth chattering.
She groaned. "That's not how wishes work!"
"Nothing in my life works, so why not try?" I yelled back.
Water splashed everywhere. I was drenched, half-drunk, and desperate enough to believe in magic.
Then Mei's voice changed — sharp, urgent.
"Hua! The fortune teller! She's here!"
"What?"
I looked up — and there, at the end of the street, stood the same old woman. Same shawl, same silver hair, same knowing eyes.
Mei took off running after her. "Wait! Old lady! Come back!"
"Mei! Wait!"
I stumbled to my feet and tried to follow, but the ground was spinning, my legs wobbling like jelly.
One wrong step — and everything tilted.
The world went black.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the smell — clean linen, faint cologne, and something familiar.
I groaned. My head was pounding, my vision blurry.
"Where… am I?"
The ceiling wasn't mine. The furniture wasn't mine.
And when I looked around, my heart stopped.
A desk by the window. A framed photo on the nightstand.
It couldn't be.
This was Yiran's room.
"What the—"
"Finally awake?"
My breath hitched.
That voice.
I turned my head, and there he was — Liang Yiran, standing by the bed, smiling gently, just like he used to.
"Yiran?" I whispered, barely breathing.
He stepped closer, his eyes soft and warm. "You scared me, you know? You fell pretty hard."
He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand brushing mine.
He looked… younger. Like the Yiran I met ten years ago.
My heart thudded painfully. "This… this isn't real."
He leaned in, just a few inches from my face. I could feel his breath against my skin, warm and familiar.
"Then why does it feel like it?" he murmured.
I froze.
Because it did.
Because for the first time in years — it felt like I had gone back to the moment everything started.
To be continued…
___
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