Medical Assessment of Current Situation:
- Blood pressure: Elevated
- Stress levels: Concerning
- Probability of survival through this wedding: 67%
- Probability of maintaining professional composure when I see her in a wedding dress: 12%
*Note to self: This is a strategic marriage arrangement between Wang Tech Corporation and Akso Hospital's research division. Remain clinical. Remain professional. Do NOT think about how she smiled at our first meeting and my cardiac rhythm became irregular for 4.7 seconds.*
*I am a chief cardiac surgeon. I have performed over 300 high-risk procedures. I can handle one small, adorable—*
*Focus, Li Shen.*
The Wang family had transformed the entire Grand Linkon Hotel ballroom into what could only be described as "excessive wealth incarnate." Crystal chandeliers the size of small cars, roses imported from three different countries, and enough gold accents to fund a small hospital wing.
Zayne stood at the altar in his custom three-piece suit, hands clasped behind his back, spine perfectly straight, expression carefully neutral. The picture of composure.
Inside, he was calculating the structural integrity of his lumbar vertebrae.
*She's 153 centimeters. I'm 186 centimeters. That's a 33-centimeter differential. If I have to bend for the ceremonial kiss, the angle required would be approximately 45 degrees, which—*
"Bro, you look like you're about to perform surgery, not get married," Sylus drawled from his position as best man, smirking in that insufferable way of his.
"I'm simply maintaining appropriate decorum," Zayne replied coldly.
"You're calculating kiss angles, aren't you?"
"I'm doing no such—"
"He's totally calculating kiss angles," Rafayel snickered from the groomsmen line, adjusting his purple tie. "Classic Zayne."
"At least he shows up awake," Caleb elbowed Xavier, who was somehow already dozing while standing. "Xavier, dude, the wedding hasn't even started."
"Hmm? Oh. Let me know when there's food," Xavier mumbled.
Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming. *Why did I agree to have these four as groomsmen? Oh right. They blackmailed me with baby photos.*
The orchestra began playing.
Everyone stood.
And then Zayne saw her.
*Oh no.*
Angelina Wang—Nana, as everyone called her—appeared at the end of the aisle like something from a fever dream.
The dress was objectively beautiful: white silk with delicate lace, fitted bodice, flowing skirt. Her hair was styled in soft waves with tiny flowers woven through. She looked like a porcelain doll brought to life.
But in her hands—
*Is she eating macarons?*
Indeed, Nana was casually munching on pink macarons as she walked down the aisle, completely unaware of the 500 guests staring at her in shock. Her cheeks were slightly puffed like a hamster storing food. Crumbs dotted her bouquet.
Medical assessment update:
- Cute factor: Dangerously high
- My composure: Rapidly deteriorating
- Appropriate response: There isn't one
- Current status: I'm doomed
"Dude," Sylus whispered, barely containing his laughter. "Your bride is eating snacks during her entrance."
"I have eyes," Zayne hissed back, though his gaze never left her.
*She's adorable. She's absolutely adorable. This is a problem. This is a significant problem. My heart rate just increased to 98 BPM. Unacceptable.*
Nana finally reached the altar, still chewing. She looked up at him with those wide, innocent eyes and smiled—a smile that made his carefully constructed mental defenses crack.
"Hi," she whispered, swallowing her macaron. "You're really tall."
*Observation: Patient—no, WIFE—states the obvious. Prognosis: I'm going to have a very interesting life.*
"You have crumbs on your dress," he replied quietly, reaching out with his handkerchief to brush them away with clinical precision.
"Oh! Thanks!" She beamed at him.
*Cardiac arrhythmia detected. Cause: Her smile. Cure: None available.*
The officiant cleared his throat. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Dr. Li Shen and Miss Angelina Wang..."
Zayne barely heard the speech. He was too busy trying not to stare at how Nana kept fidgeting with her bouquet, how she whispered "wow, fancy" when looking at the decorations, how she—
*Focus. Vows. Right.*
"Dr. Li, your vows please."
Zayne pulled out his prepared card with steady hands. He'd written it himself—concise, appropriate, professional.
"Angelina," he began, his deep voice carrying through the ballroom. "I promise to support your goals, respect your autonomy, maintain open communication regarding our partnership, and provide appropriate care for your wellbeing. I will endeavor to be a reliable partner in this arrangement."
Sylus coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "romantic."
Nana blinked at him, looking slightly confused but smiling anyway.
"Miss Wang, your vows?"
Nana pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from... somewhere in her dress. Zayne tried very hard not to think about where.
She squinted at it, turning it sideways, then upside down.
"Um." She cleared her throat. "Zayne... I promise to... uh..." She held the paper closer to her face. "What does this say? 'Endeavor to maintain domestic harmony'? Did Mina write this? This sounds like a business contract."
Someone in the audience laughed.
Nana frowned at the paper like it had personally offended her, reading it with the intensity of an archaeologist deciphering ancient hieroglyphics.
*She's reading it like the Rosetta Stone. Why is that adorable. Why am I finding this adorable. I need medical intervention.*
"Okay, forget this," Nana suddenly declared, crumpling the paper. "Zayne, I promise to try my best to be a good wife even though I don't really know what that means yet. I promise not to break too many things—well, I'll try not to. And I promise to share my macarons with you sometimes. Not always, but sometimes."
The audience actually "awww"ed.
Zayne felt something in his chest tighten. *That was... significantly more genuine than my vows. Noted.*
"Beautiful," the officiant said, clearly trying not to laugh. "Now, for the rings—"
"—I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Time seemed to slow down.
Nana looked up at Zayne. Then at the audience. Then back at Zayne.
Her eyes went wide—those big, innocent doe eyes—and she started blinking rapidly like a confused hamster.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
*Oh no, she's panicking,* Zayne realized with growing dread. *She's never done this before. Of course she hasn't. Her parents kept her in that mansion like Rapunzel. Wang Tao probably had a "no boys within 50 meters" policy.*
"Um," Nana whispered, barely audible. "What do I... where do I...?"
The audience was waiting. 500 people. Staring. Expecting.
*The height differential requires significant postural adjustment. Calculating optimal angle...*
Zayne bent down—and down, and down—feeling several vertebrae in his spine protest loudly. *This is unsustainable. I'm going to develop chronic back problems. This is a occupational hazard I did not anticipate.*
Now they were face to face. Well, he was bent at what felt like a 90-degree angle, and she was staring at him with those impossibly wide eyes.
Up close, he could see the faint dusting of powder on her nose, a tiny smudge of macaron at the corner of her mouth, the way her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks.
*She looks like a doll. A living, breathing, macaron-eating doll. Focus, Li Shen. Kiss. Clinical procedure. You've done more complicated things.*
"Oh gosh," Nana breathed, still staring. "You're so handsome. Like, really handsome. My friends are definitely going to be jealous. Mina's going to die. This is—"
Zayne kissed her.
Nana's eyes immediately shut tight—so tight he could see her squeeze them closed like she was bracing for impact. Her whole body went rigid.
*She's treating this like a medical procedure. She's more nervous than my surgical patients.*
Her lips were soft, slightly sweet from the macarons, and completely still. She wasn't kissing back—she was just... frozen. Like a statue. A very small, very adorable statue.
The kiss lasted approximately 3.2 seconds. Appropriate for a ceremonial first kiss. Professional. Chaste.
*So why does my entire nervous system feel like it's been hit by lightning?*
When he pulled back, Nana's eyes were still squeezed shut.
"Nana," he whispered. "It's over."
Her eyes popped open. "Oh!" Her cheeks were bright red. "That was... um. Your lips are cold. Did you steal ice cream before the wedding?"
*WHAT.*
"I—no, I did not—" Zayne could feel heat creeping up his neck. *She thinks I ate ice cream. My Evol literally makes me run cold and she thinks I ATE ICE CREAM.*
"It's okay, I won't tell anyone," Nana whispered conspiratorially, patting his arm.
The audience erupted in applause.
*I need a moment. I need several moments. I need to go outside and have a mental crisis.*
Zayne had excused himself to the balcony, citing "a need for fresh air" which was absolutely not code for "mental breakdown in progress."
*She thought I ate ice cream. She squeezed her eyes shut like I was going to perform dental surgery. She's adorable. This is a problem. This is the biggest problem I've ever faced and I once had to perform emergency surgery in a helicopter.*
"Enjoying married life already?" Sylus appeared beside him, that insufferable smirk still in place.
"Go away."
"Can't. Best man duties include mocking the groom." Sylus leaned against the railing. "She's cute. Like, really cute. Like a little doll."
"I'm aware."
"You're so screwed, cousin."
"I'm perfectly capable of maintaining appropriate boundaries in this arrangement."
"You were bent like a question mark trying to kiss her. Your spine made sounds."
*He's not wrong. I may need to schedule a chiropractic appointment.*
"She's 153 centimeters," Zayne said flatly. "The height differential requires—"
"Requires you to accept that you married a tiny, adorable chaos gremlin and your whole 'cold, controlled doctor' thing is going to crumble within a week."
Before Zayne could respond with an icy retort, Caleb and Rafayel appeared, drinks in hand and matching grins on their faces.
"Bro," Caleb started, "your wife is inside eating all the desserts."
"ALL of them," Rafayel emphasized. "The caterers are concerned. She's collecting macarons like Infinity Stones."
"And," Caleb continued, barely suppressing laughter, "she just tackled someone. Full tackle. Took them down."
"WHAT—" Zayne started toward the door.
"Relax, it was her friend. Mina, I think? They're just hugging on the floor now. It's cute. Everything about your wife is cute. You're doomed."
Sylus raised his glass. "To Zayne's sanity. May it rest in peace."
"It lasted 27 years," Rafayel added solemnly. "A good run."
"Where's Xavier?" Zayne asked, desperate to change the subject.
"Sleeping in a corner booth. He made it through the ceremony, that's a win."
Zayne was about to respond when a group of women in elegant dresses walked past the balcony entrance. He recognized them—nurses and staff from the hospital. His "fan club" as Sylus annoyingly called them.
One of them was crying.
"Dr. Li got married," she sobbed to her friend. "He's taken forever."
"I know," another one sniffled. "Did you see how he looked at her? We never had a chance."
"She's so lucky. And so tiny! Like a doll!"
*Why does everyone keep comparing her to a doll?*
From inside, he heard Nana's voice carry across the ballroom: "Yes! This is my husband! Isn't he handsome? He's mine forever now! We're married! He's VERY taken!"
She sounded absolutely delighted about it.
*She's... happy about this? The marriage arrangement? She's genuinely excited?*
Something in his chest felt warm. Dangerous territory.
"Bro, your face just did something," Caleb observed.
"My face did nothing."
"It softened. You looked fond. It was gross," Rafayel teased.
Sylus laughed. "One day married and he's already gone. Absolutely gone."
"I'm going back inside," Zayne announced, adjusting his tie with as much dignity as he could muster.
"To check on your wife?" Sylus called after him.
Zayne didn't respond, but his ears were definitely red.
Inside, he found Nana exactly where they'd described—surrounded by plates of desserts, happily chatting with two women who must be her friends (Mina and Jisu, he assumed), crumbs on her dress, absolutely radiant.
When she saw him, her whole face lit up.
"Zayne! Try this macaron! It's raspberry! It's SO good!"
She grabbed his hand—her tiny hand in his much larger one—and pulled him down (his spine protested again) to offer him a half-eaten macaron.
*Day one. This is day one. I'm already calculating macaron nutrition facts and cardiovascular impacts of excessive sugar consumption. I'm already worried about her choking hazard with rapid food consumption. I'm already—*
"It's good, right?" Nana asked eagerly.
*—absolutely doomed.*
"It's adequate," he said, which was doctor-speak for "I would eat an entire box if you kept smiling at me like that."
Sylus was right. His sanity didn't stand a chance.
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ZAYNE'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE - 11:47 PM
Medical Log - Day 1 of Marriage:
Patient—WIFE. Wife. I have a wife. Her name is Angelina but everyone calls her Nana. She's 153cm. She ate 27 macarons today. I counted. She tackled her friend in the middle of our reception. She reads vows like ancient artifacts. She thought my Evol-induced cold temperature was from eating ice cream.
She's chaotic. Adorable. Completely unpredictable.
Prognosis for my sanity: Poor.
Prognosis for this marriage: ...I don't know. But her smile increased my heart rate by 23%. That seems significant.
Note to self: Schedule chiropractic appointment. The height differential is going to be an ongoing issue.
Additional note: Buy more macarons. She looked happy eating them.
Final note: I'm in so much trouble.
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🌻🌻🌻
To be continued