Chapter 1: An Awkward Blind Date  

“Buzz—buzz—buzz—”  

The phone danced wildly on the table, the words “Her Majesty Mother” glaring in blood-red on the screen like a death warrant. Yu Ling flipped it over for the Nth time, attempting to physically mute it.  

Three seconds.  

“Lingling!!!” A shrill female voice pierced through the partition, startling Yu Ling into a shiver. Great, Her Majesty had mastered the Lion’s Roar Skill Through the Air.  

“Mom…” Yu Ling barely got the word out before she was cut off.  

“Off work yet? Don’t give me that project excuse! This time, Aunt Wang swore on her life—local guy! Owns a place! Office job! Dependable and steady! I saw his photo, looks sharp!” Mom’s words fired off like a machine gun:  

“Tonight at seven, ‘Meet Time’ café, third table by the window! If you dare stand him up again, I’ll buy a standing ticket tomorrow and drag you there myself!”  

“Mom, I just—”  

“Just what?! Twenty-five! Back home, that’s practically a ‘clearance sale’ tag, got it? The neighbors’ gossip is drowning me! Address sent! Dare to turn off your phone? I’ll have your dad ambush you at work!”  

“Beep… beep… beep…” The dial tone mocked her futile resistance.  

Yu Ling slumped into her chair, the dense spreadsheets before her blurring into mush. Twenty-five? Approaching thirty? She felt like a lamb marked for slaughter in the gossip mill of her hometown, with the relentless matchmaking pressure from every aunt and cousin hanging over her like a blade.  

“Damn it!” She grabbed her hair in frustration and opened WeChat. Below the address, a glaring red packet popped up: “Cab fare! Don’t skimp! Make a good impression!”  

Ransom money! She tapped the ride-hailing app expressionlessly.  

“Fine, might as well… change locations for overtime,” she muttered, dragging her leaden legs toward the restroom.  

Seven p.m. sharp, “Meet Time” café.  

Pushing open the door, the aroma of coffee mingled with jazz music wafted over. The lighting was moody. Third table by the window—target locked.  

A man sat with his profile to the entrance, posture upright, looking like a painting bathed in neon hues. Dark gray sweater, light-colored shirt collar, clean and crisp. A glass of water on the table, and in his hand… huh? *Principles of Economics*? Bringing a textbook to a blind date? Refreshingly different!  

Yu Ling took a deep breath, forced her stiff facial muscles into action, and walked over.  

“Hello, are you Mr. Zhao Chen?” Her voice strained for steadiness.  

The man looked up.  

Light fell across his face. Yu Ling’s heart skipped a beat.  

Not the thick-browed, big-eyed type. His features were slender, with slightly upturned eyes, and irises a warm amber-brown, like aged resin. Right now, those amber pools held polite amusement—and a hint of understanding? As if he saw right through her forced composure.  

“That’s me. Miss Yu Ling?” He stood, his voice clear and soothing, naturally reassuring. He pulled out the chair opposite him.  

“Please sit. It’s chilly out—something warm?” He gestured to the cup the server had just set down. “Took the liberty of ordering a hot latte with an extra shot of syrup. Hope that’s not a dealbreaker? If not, we can swap.”  

Yu Ling’s pupils dilated: “…Thanks, that’s perfect.”  

She wrapped her hands around the warm cup, the heat and rich, sweet coffee aroma seeping into her senses. One taut nerve inexplicably relaxed. How did he know?! Even her closest friends might not remember this preference!  

“Glad to hear it.” Zhao Chen sat back down, calmly closing the hardcover book and setting it aside. He laced his fingers on the table, posture relaxed. “You’re very punctual, Miss Yu.”

“Call me Yu Ling.” She took a sip of coffee, feeling the warmth slide down. “Mr. Zhao, just arrived?”

“A few minutes before you.” He smiled, the warmth reaching his eyes—utterly unthreatening. “Didn’t want to be late and seem rude. Plus…” His gaze swept the surroundings, “Scouting the ‘battlefield’ in advance gives me some peace of mind.”

“Battlefield?” Yu Ling nearly laughed out loud. “Spot on! Fellow sufferers in this vast world?”

“Kindred spirits might be more accurate.” Zhao Chen nodded, a flicker of shared exhaustion passing through his amber eyes.  

“Family pressure getting to you? My mom’s calls have evolved to the point where she can precisely predict my bladder capacity.” He made an exaggerated, helpless expression.

“Pfft!” Yu Ling couldn’t hold back. “That’s next level! They must have a ‘National Marriage Urging Alliance’ with shared tactics!”

“Absolutely!” Zhao Chen wholeheartedly agreed, lifting his glass.  

“Since graduation, blind dates have been my second career. Civil servants, entrepreneurs, overseas elites… and,” he paused meaningfully,  

“the… uh… more avant-garde types. The experiences? Hard to sum up. Some were nice, but no spark. Others were just ticking boxes—the air could freeze solid.”  

Honesty! Yu Ling instantly connected. “Same here! Interrogations about my background, unsolicited life advice, even being asked if I’d quit my job to raise three kids…” She vented about the absurd encounters.  

Zhao Chen listened quietly, his attention unwavering. Only at “three kids” did the corner of his mouth twitch imperceptibly, betraying genuine shock.  

“Sounds like the ‘battlefields’ we’ve experienced boast impressive biodiversity.” He waited for her to finish before summing it up with a light chuckle. “Sitting here today, the air feels purified—PM2.5 levels plummeting.”  

Yu Ling was charmed, her tension melting away. Talking to him was like sinking into a beanbag chair—effortlessly comfortable!  

He listened, responded, and struck the perfect balance. There was a quiet strength about him, like autumn afternoon sunlight—not scorching, but warm.  

The server brought dessert. Zhao Chen used a small fork to gently push aside the mint leaf on the tiramisu before sliding it toward Yu Ling. “This place’s tiramisu—the alcohol isn’t overpowering. Want to try?”  

Yu Ling’s heart skipped again! She hated strong alcohol flavors and never ate mint leaves. Once might be coincidence, but twice? She looked up at him. He was stirring his cooled americano, his profile soft, the gesture so natural it seemed second nature.  

Suppressing her surprise, she took a bite. Smooth, slightly bitter, perfectly balanced. The sweetness melted on her tongue, and the last icy barrier in her heart cracked faintly.  

Their conversation jumped from newly opened trendy bookstores to mind-bending thrillers, then to ridiculous office anecdotes.  

Zhao Chen was engaging without being pretentious, his dry humor hitting Yu Ling’s funny bone just right. Time flew by to the soundtrack of jazz and easy banter.  

When only dark dregs remained at the bottom of Yu Ling’s cup, Zhao Chen set down his coffee, fingertips tapping the table lightly—as if pressing a hidden switch.  

He looked up, his amber eyes locking onto hers. The warmth faded, leaving only a deep, unwavering seriousness.  

“Yu Ling,” he said her name, his voice low and clear, “After talking this long, I feel we click exceptionally well. At the very least, it’s ten thousand times better than previous ‘battlefields,’ right?”  

Yu Ling nodded instinctively, her heartbeat stuttering inexplicably.  

“So,” he leaned forward slightly, the clean, crisp scent of cedar and sunlight growing distinct—carrying an oddly reassuring edge of quiet intensity.

“Rather than exhausting ourselves in the dating market, dealing with endless bombardment from our families, and most likely ending up with even more awkward encounters… why don’t we,” he paused, then dropped the bombshell with deliberate clarity:  

“Why don’t we just get married?”  

“Pfft—*cough cough*!!” Yu Ling choked on her coffee, coughing violently as tears streamed down her face. “M-married?!” Her voice cracked. “Mr. Zhao, what the hell are you talking about?!”  

Zhao Chen wasn’t surprised by her reaction. Calmly handing her a tissue, his gaze remained open and warm, even carrying a hint of an “I knew it” smile.  

“Yes. A flash marriage,” he repeated, as casually as if suggesting another cup of coffee.  

“I know it sounds insane. But Yu Ling, think about our situations.”  

Leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as a scalpel, he laid out his points:  

“Pain point one: Family pressure. The core issue! The weight of parental expectations—every failed attempt doesn’t bring relief, just an even worse storm of anxiety. A vicious cycle!”  

Yu Ling clenched the tissue, unable to argue. Too damn true.  

“Pain point two: Time cost. Every blind date—preparing, traveling, enduring hours of awkward small talk—is a waste of life! Our time and energy could be spent on something better, right?”  

Yu Ling nodded furiously. Exactly how I feel!  

“Three: Practical compatibility.” His voice softened, carrying a convincing sincerity.  

“Even though we haven’t known each other long, our conversation just now was comfortable and relaxed. In the dating market, that’s like winning the lottery!”  

His gaze locked onto hers. “As for deeper understanding and emotional connection… can’t that happen *after* marriage? Isn’t marriage itself the most direct and efficient incubator for that?”  

Yu Ling was pinned in place by his… well, not *nonsense*, but *flawless* logic. It… kind of made sense?  

Zhao Chen caught the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Leaning forward again, he folded his hands, his focus unwavering, radiating undeniable conviction.  

“Yu Ling, this isn’t impulsiveness. It’s a rational analysis of our predicament—and a judgment based on my initial impression of you. You’re sincere, independent, and sharp-minded. And,” the corner of his mouth lifted slightly,  

“your sarcasm is precise but never cruel. That’s crucial for cohabitation—er, *shared living*.”  

Then came the core proposal:  

“Sign an agreement. One-year term.”  

“For that year, we’ll act as a real couple, live together, and team up to fool both our families—shutting down the marriage pressure for good! During that time, we respect each other’s personal space and careers, split finances or set up a joint fund. After a year, if it works, we continue. If not, we part amicably, terminate the agreement, and go our separate ways—no debts, no grudges.”  

He pulled out his phone and slid a document toward her. The title was clinical:  

*Mutual Assistance Marriage Agreement (One-Year Term)*. The clauses were clear-cut: assets, privacy, responsibilities, dissolution terms… even a “Friendly Assistance Clause” (e.g., helping each other deal with difficult relatives).  

“First draft. Read it, revise it—whatever you want.” His tone was full of respect. “Just a proposal. Take your time to think it over. No rush.”  

The light traced the sharp line of his jaw as he leaned in slightly, relaxed yet radiating quiet strength.  

His amber eyes met her uncertain gaze without flinching—only calm understanding and an unshakable confidence that said, *This is a sure bet.*

Yu Ling’s mind felt like it was stuffed with a nest of screaming rubber chickens. Flash marriage? Contract? Cohabitation? Each word exploded like fireworks across the blueprint of her life.  

Reason screamed, “Absurd! Run!” But her soul, driven to the brink by relentless matchmaking pressure, howled, “Escape! Freedom!”  

She looked down at the contract that read like a business agreement. Separate finances, privacy protection, clearly defined responsibilities, a clean exit clause…  

“Why me?” She lifted her head, her voice tight, her gaze like a searchlight:  

“Mr. Zhao, with your conditions… wouldn’t it be easy to find a well-matched ‘rich, beautiful socialite’?” She glanced pointedly at the copy of *Principles of Economics* lying on the corner of the table.  

Zhao Chen wasn’t surprised. He picked up his now-cold Americano, swirled it slightly, and let his gaze rest on the liquid’s surface with just the right touch of self-deprecation.  

“Well-matched?” He chuckled, humorless. “In the matchmaking market, ‘well-matched’ usually means equal family backgrounds, exploitable connections, or an empty promise labeled ‘high potential.'”  

He looked up, his eyes clear. “I don’t have any of that. I’m just a regular office drone—nine-to-five, saddled with a mortgage, stuck with a fixed salary, and driven insane by parental pressure to marry.”  

His tone was matter-of-fact, but the words landed heavily on Yu Ling’s heart.  

“And you,” he said, his gaze returning to her with pure appreciation,  

“You’re *real*. Stressed about work, worried about family, quick to vent, quick to tire—but there’s light in your eyes, a fire. You don’t look at me through the lens of ‘valuation,’ don’t dig for ‘background’ or ‘potential.’ Talking to you is… comfortable.”  

He paused, as if searching for the right words. “Like suddenly feeling a ray of sunlight on a gloomy day—no strings attached.”  

Yu Ling’s heart skipped a beat at *no strings attached sunlight*.  

“More importantly,” he leaned forward, voice lowering, speaking candidly,  

“I need an *ally*. Someone equally trapped by matchmaking pressure, equally desperate to break free—rational, independent. What we need is a partnership built on trust, not transactional benefits. Yu Ling, you’re the perfect fit. We each get what we need, solve each other’s problems, and give ourselves a chance to reassess and rechoose. Fair. Efficient. Saves time and effort!”  

*Each get what we need. Solve problems. Fair. Efficient.*  

The clinical terms carved a golden path through the chaos in Yu Ling’s mind. What did she need most? Freedom from pressure! Room to breathe! Control! Love? That could wait.  

One year. A husband in name. A human shield. A legally binding guarantee of freedom. A tailor-made solution?  

“So… living together?” she managed, her heart pounding like a drum.  

“Absolutely. The act has to be convincing.” Zhao Chen nodded, straightforward.  

“The contract spells it out: separate bedrooms, personal space is sacred. Shared areas—cleaning, cooking—we split or figure it out. I’ve rented a two-bedroom near my office. Decent place, convenient. If you don’t mind, move in—save on rent, stash the extra in savings.” Ruthlessly practical.  

Renting? A two-bedroom? Splitting chores? The details instantly diluted the shock of *flash marriage cohabitation*, making it seem… feasible?  

Yu Ling fell silent. Her fingers absently picked at her phone case. A saxophone’s lazy melody drifted through the air. Outside, neon lights washed over Zhao Chen’s calm profile. His gaze was steady, patient—no pressure, no rush.  

Time slipped away, second by second.

Yu Ling took a long, deep breath. The icy air stung her lungs, bringing with it a clarity born of reckless abandon.

She raised her head to meet Zhao Chen’s gaze. Beneath that gentle patience, there seemed to lurk an almost imperceptible certainty of victory.

“The agreement…” Her voice was slightly hoarse but crystal clear. “I’ll take it back to review. Some parts… need changes.”

A meteor-like glint flashed instantly through Zhao Chen’s eyes! His smile deepened, radiating genuine relief and joy.

“Of course!” He immediately picked up his phone with fluid motions. “Sending the digital version to your WeChat. Change whatever you need, call me anytime.” The WeChat QR code popped up, his movements smooth as flowing water.

Yu Ling scanned it. Beep! Friend request accepted. The document “whooshed” into their chat window.

“Also,” Zhao Chen pocketed his phone, his posture relaxing as if he’d just closed a major deal, “Since we’ve reached preliminary agreement, as a gesture of sincerity and for the sake of our future ‘cohabitation harmony’… Tomorrow’s Saturday. I wonder if Miss Yu… oh, my future roommate Master, would do me the honor?”

“Roommate?” Yu Ling blinked.

“I’d like to invite you,” his smile appeared clean and harmless under the warm yellow lighting, “to visit my place? Maybe taste my cooking? My home-style dishes are barely passable.” His tone was as casual as asking “Had lunch?”

Yu Ling was completely dumbfounded.

First blind date, instant marriage agreement?

The contract wasn’t even signed yet, and he’s inviting her over?!

This rocket-speed progression?!

Staring at that handsome face screaming “I’m super reliable,” at the cold contract in WeChat, feeling the desperate courage bursting from being cornered…

Chaotic thoughts collided like firecrackers until one voice clanged victoriously: Go! See what this “ordinary office worker’s” den really looks like! Inspect the goods!

“Alright.” She heard her own eerily calm voice. “See you tomorrow.”