Chapter 1: I’m Getting Married, You Come Crash the Wedding

“In a few days, I’m getting married. Bring some men and come crash the wedding.”

A thick stack of cash was slapped onto the table.

Inside the deafening music of the bar, the woman leaned back lazily. Her voluminous curls swayed slightly, the black leather bodysuit outlining her alluring figure. Her eyes, cold and sharp like starlight, glinted under the shifting lights.

The security guard across from her froze. His gaze darted back and forth over the money. “This… crashing a wedding, that’s not really proper, is it?”

Smack.

The woman didn’t reply—just threw another stack of cash on the table.

The guard sucked in a sharp breath.

Then he quickly scooped the cash into his arms, grinning wide. “Leave it to me, ma’am. Consider it done!”

A faint, mocking laugh came from the next booth, drowned beneath the booming music.

Xi Xingye lounged lazily on the sofa, his short hair slightly tousled as though carelessly mussed. A few strands fell rebelliously across his forehead. His narrow, deep eyes were half-squinted with disinterest.

“She’s hiring people to crash her own wedding? Now that’s interesting.” His friend raised an eyebrow at him.

The tip of Xingye’s cigarette glowed a faint red. His mood was flat, his interest minimal.

The burn of alcohol lingered in his throat, bitter on the tongue.

The woman’s voice from the next booth carried into his ears again.

Only this time, she was speaking to someone else.

“Lawyer Zhang, I need to sort out my assets before the marriage. The family I’m marrying into is old money. They’ve got a professional legal team. I don’t want them to find loopholes and take advantage of me in case of divorce.”

“She’s marrying into a wealthy family too?” His friend chuckled. “Which poor sucker drew the short straw this time?”

Just then, the bar’s music cut off for a few seconds, leaving the air unusually still.

Her cold voice rang out clearly:
“It’s the heir of the Xie family. A frivolous playboy. Estranged from his father, mother passed away early, only a grandfather left. Sooner or later, he’ll ruin the Xie family. If I marry him, how can I protect myself from losses?”

A glass hit the table with a sharp clink.

Xi Xingye set down his drink and snapped his head up.

His friend’s smile froze. “Wait—what? Did she just say… you?”

“What a joke.” Xingye sneered, pulling himself up in his leather boots and glancing over to the next booth.

The lights flashed, but the booth was empty.

The woman had already left after her call.

He narrowed his eyes. Probably just some lunatic out there throwing his name around for fun.

He stubbed out his cigarette, but his long, slender fingers suddenly hesitated.

Unbidden, his grandfather’s words from the hospital echoed in his mind:

—“I’m getting old, my body’s failing. I’ve got nothing else to give you, so I’ll give you a wife. One week from now, at the Panxing Hotel. Be there to get married.”

Wait… could this actually be real?

“Damn it!” Xingye cursed under his breath, grabbed his coat, and strode out.

“Hey? Where are you going?!”

He ignored his friend’s shout.

His tall frame cut through the crowd, drawing countless stares as he quickened his pace out of the bar.

Vroom—

The roar of an engine split the air.

Xingye turned his head.

A sleek black motorcycle streaked forward like a bolt of lightning.

The rider wore a helmet, body leaning low. Black leather pants hugged her long, toned legs, her slender waist taut with strength. As the bike skimmed past him, Xingye didn’t move an inch. The machine missed him by a hair, the wind carrying a trace of cold fragrance as it roared away.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then pulled out his phone. “I’m at the Blue Note Bar. Come pick me up—take me to the hospital.”

Hospital.

“Cough, cough, cough…”

An old man with gray hair hacked violently, hunched over in bed. The butler at his side patted his back to ease his breathing.

Xi Xingye leaned against the wall with his usual unruly air, one hand in his pocket, his brows arched. “Alright, drop the act. You’re not even red in the face. What’s going on?”

The old man shot him a side glance, then clutched his chest weakly. “I had a fortune-teller read my fate recently… cough cough… he said my days are numbered. Unless I marry you off for good luck, I won’t live long…”

“That’s easy.” Xingye flipped his lighter in his palm. “Butler, put the old man’s info on a matchmaking site. Find him eight old ladies and let them bless him properly.”

“Nonsense!” The old man jabbed a finger at him, about to scold—then froze mid-motion.

The next second, a mouthful of blood spurted out!

“Master!” the butler cried, slamming the emergency button.

Xi Xingye’s expression went stiff. “Old man, you—”

Doctors and nurses rushed in, but the old man stubbornly refused treatment.

“If I can’t see you married, I’ll die with regrets! I won’t be able to face your mother in the afterlife! I’ve had it calculated—the only match that works for you is Qinci!”

“Who cares if it’s green porcelain or black porcelain, just let the doctors treat you first!” Xingye’s pupils trembled as he forced himself to stay calm.

“I won’t! If you won’t marry, then I don’t want to live! By next spring, my grave will be covered in flowers—cough cough cough!”

Another violent cough, another spray of blood.

“Old Niu!” Xingye snapped, veins bulging, calling his grandfather by his childhood nickname.

The old man wheezed, glared at him for two seconds, then twisted his body as though ready to spit more blood.

Xingye drew a deep breath and finally gave in. “Fine! I’ll get married! Now let the doctors treat you!”

“Tomorrow you’ll go register the marriage. The time’s already set!”

“Tomorrow? Are you crazy?!”

Pfft— Another geyser of blood.

Xingye’s furious shout shook the ward. “Alright, I get it! I’ll go tomorrow!”

The old man’s eyes lit up. He promptly pretended to faint—still clutching half a fake blood capsule in his hand.

Minutes later, once it was confirmed the old man was perfectly fine, Xi Xingye was unceremoniously thrown out of the hospital.

Dark clouds pressed low. Standing beneath the hospital’s massive LED screen, blue light glinting on his cold face, Xingye’s black eyes grew darker still.

The forecast on the screen showed swathes of gray and drifting snowflakes.

That night, the capital would see its first snowfall of the year.

“Heh. Shen Qinci, was it?” Xingye curved his lips. “Since you’re so eager to court death—then let’s go.”

Sure enough, it snowed that night.

By morning, the capital was wrapped in white. Only under the rising sun did the snow begin to thaw.

Black boots crunched across the snow.

Outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, Shen Qinci kicked a stone aside, shook the snow from her boots, pulled off her helmet, and shook out her long hair—before suddenly freezing mid-motion.

She glanced to the side.

Parked nearby was a bubblegum-pink Rolls Royce Phantom.

This color was a custom order. She’d seen it in the gossip pages before.

And a custom meant only one idiot in the world would buy it—Xi Xingye.

She had never met the man himself, but the legends surrounding him lived vividly in every corner of the capital.

Rumor had it he once gambled away eighteen of the Xie family’s companies overnight, mortgaging more than a dozen properties across the country. He’d sent funeral wreaths to his stepmother, ancestral tablets to his relatives, and raised fifteen dogs—each named after an enemy—parading them to his enemies’ doorsteps daily.

When a tutor called him useless, he chased the man from one end of the city to the other with a whip.

When a psychiatrist declared him beyond saving, he tied the man up, lit lanterns around him, and celebrated with eighty-eight firecrackers to commemorate his “incurable” condition.

When ordered to reflect in solitude, he blew up the wall.

When locked in, he dug his way out.

Eventually, no one could restrain him. They could only watch helplessly as he picked fights with business rivals one day, then erected gravestones for his enemies the next. His name was mentioned only with gritted teeth and trembling fear.

Shen Qinci once thought she’d never cross paths with such a man in her life.

Yet not only had she crossed paths, she was about to sign her life to him.

Still, she had assumed Xi Xingye would have to be drugged and dragged here to register the marriage. To her surprise, he had arrived early.

The sun must be rising in the west.

She gave her boot a casual kick and walked inside.

The moment she looked up, she saw him—lounging arrogantly in his seat, radiating insolence.

Sharp brows, star-like eyes, chiseled features. His sunglasses were hooked carelessly at the back of his head, his aura refined and untouchable. In truth, he looked far better than any photo online.