“Then why don’t you just marry Wen Ying outright?” Nan Yu asked.
Shen Yanche’s face tightened. “Yuyu, we already had the engagement ceremony. If I broke it off now for another woman….”
Nan Yu understood. The Shen family’s pride and face mattered more than Wen Ying or the child. She had been the family’s chosen daughter-in-law; once things had reached this point, the marriage was effectively set in stone.
But she had also found a crack.
“You came to me with this. Does your father know?” Nan Yu asked casually. “Or is this something he’s already told you to say?”
Shen Yanche shook his head quickly. “He doesn’t know. He’d kill to keep Wen Ying out of my life. After what happened last time, he made me break things off for good. If he thought I was still seeing her, he’d—he’d break my legs himself.”
Nan Yu steeled herself and sorted through the information. It looked like he and his father had already split: Shen Suhai cared about face; Shen Yanche cared about the child. The contrast was almost amusing.
Seeing Nan Yu’s silence, Shen Yanche hurried to offer more incentives. “If you agree to marry me, I’ll clear your debts. I’ll make sure my father doesn’t stop me from seeing Wen Ying. We only need to keep up appearances as an engaged couple.”
“The wedding can wait. I’ll persuade my father to postpone it for a year.” He was blunt. “If you say yes, I’ll never bother you again.”
Nan Yu considered for a moment, weighing the proposal. Pretend to accept, buy a year to uncover the truth, get her father’s things back—one year to find answers. It seemed like a fair trade.
After a beat she spoke without emotion. “I’ll add one condition.”
“Name it.” He was eager.
“Return whatever my father left behind.” Nan Yu kept her face flat, though she didn’t even know what the thing was. She only remembered Tan Linyuan once telling her that the reason Shen Suhai wanted her as a daughter-in-law might have had to do with something from the Nan family.
“No way,” Shen Yanche replied too quickly. “That’s a treasure. My father would never give it back.”
Nan Yu’s eyes sharpened. So there really was an object. At the Shen house Shen Suhai had been vague on purpose, testing whether she knew. Today she could be certain.
She let her excitement sink and spoke evenly. “Then forget it.”
“It’s not that I won’t give it to you, Yuyu.” He looked helpless. “My father hid it. I don’t know where it is.”
Nan Yu watched him, searching his eyes for deceit. He blinked, then surrendered a small step. “I’ll try. If I find it, I’ll return it immediately.”
She nodded. “Deal.”
By the time Tan Linyuan came downstairs, Shen Yanche was gone in high spirits, clutching the bouquet of roses he hadn’t forgotten to take. Even though Nan Yu wasn’t allergic, the room seemed fresher somehow.
She sat on the sofa and looked up when she heard movement upstairs. “Are you done talking?” he asked calmly, as if it didn’t concern him.
“We’re done.” She met his gaze, a bright thrill in her eyes. “You were right.”
“About what?”
“That Shen Suhai has something of my father’s.” Her voice was sharp with satisfaction. “I’m taking back what’s mine.”
Only a few days earlier she’d looked pale and fragile; now she seemed reborn, full of energy. Youth did wonders.
Tan Linyuan listened to her outline the plan—pretend to accept Shen Yanche’s proposal, use the year to dig up the truth and reclaim her father’s belongings. It sounded reasonable, but his expression didn’t relax.
“I said before,” he said, mildly displeased, “using your marriage as a gamble is never a good choice.”
“If I find the truth within a year, I can break the engagement directly.”
“And if you don’t?” he asked, playful and pointed.
“I will.” Nan Yu’s answer was steady, her eyes fixed on him.
He studied her for a long moment. “You’re not gambling your marriage,” she said finally, with a smile. “I’m gambling on my second uncle, aren’t I? We have a deal, don’t we?”
She believed he wouldn’t let her lose.
She had just finished washing up; her face was clean and small, her brows fine, a smile playing at the corners of her eyes. There was no obvious seduction in it, but it pulled people in the same—the way someone traps you with ease and charm, willing to be confined by the circle they paint for you.
Tan Linyuan didn’t answer. He reached out and caught her wrist. A string of prayer beads slid down her arm. She had stopped taking them off because he told her not to.
Nan Yu blinked and tugged lightly. “What are you doing—”
“Now you’ve learned how to use me openly.” He lowered his eyes, half-smiling. “Who taught you that?”
She lifted her face to meet his. “…No one. Is that not allowed?”
“Not bad. Progress,” he murmured, amusement in his voice, and he pulled her up by the wrist.
She was swept toward him and, by momentum, fell into his arms. There was no escape from the closeness he’d imposed. He held her wrist firmly while his other hand rested on the small of her back, pressing through her clothes. His breath was low and warm.
“If you’re going to use me, you have to pay,” he said softly.
“You’re a god,” she countered, breathless. “Shouldn’t you pity me?”
“I’m also a businessman,” he said, voice darkening. “I deal in profit.”
In an instant he hugged her tighter, the bodies pressed closer. Nan Yu’s breath hitched. He wanted her to understand—viscerally—his most selfish, greedy side. He wanted to take.
Her body trembled and she closed her eyes as a reckless thought took root: she wanted to make the god hers alone. It was obscene even in her own head, but she couldn’t stop it.
They spent another morning tangled on the bed before she finally crawled out. The man, sated and merciful enough, had at least prepared lunch. Nan Yu ate a few mouthfuls and he left that afternoon. While folding clothes, she felt something slip from her pocket.
She picked up the small card. It was the business card of the record-shop owner Tianna had introduced her to that day.