Forced to Marry My Nemesis, But He Can't Stay Away

The moment my mom slaps the embossed marriage contract onto the kitchen counter, I am stirring a pot of luosifen.

Yes, luosifen — that pungent, sour, spicy rice noodle soup that smells like a crime scene and tastes like heaven. The fried tofu skin is just sinking into the broth, exactly the way my future is sinking into the toilet.

“Su Nian,” Mom says, her voice sharp enough to slice glass. “You’ve been sold.”

I tighten my grip on the chopsticks and watch the tofu disappear. “Mom, at least let me finish my noodles.”

“Finish?” She slams the contract down again. Her eyes are red-rimmed, wild. “Your father’s company goes into bankruptcy proceedings tomorrow and you want to eat?”

She shoves the papers toward me. “The Shen family is willing to inject five hundred million yuan. The condition is that you marry Shen Ci.”

I stare at her. Then at the contract. Then at the pot of luosifen still bubbling on the stove like nothing is wrong.

Five hundred million yuan.

That’s not a marriage. That’s a ransom with fancy calligraphy.

Mom’s hands are shaking. Her mascara is smudged at the corners, and I realize she’s been crying before she came downstairs. My mom — the woman who once negotiated a hostile takeover while in labor with me, or so Dad likes to joke — looks broken.

That scares me more than the name Shen Ci.

“Mom,” I say slowly, “there has to be another way. We can sell assets, find investors, I can —”

“There is no other way.” Her voice cracks. “The banks pulled out. The board is turning on him. If the Shen family doesn’t step in by midnight tomorrow, your father loses everything. We lose everything.”

She grabs my hand. Her fingers are ice-cold.

“Niannian, I’m not asking you to love him. I’m asking you to save us.”

I look down at the embossed marriage contract. The gold lettering catches the kitchen light, blindingly beautiful, ridiculously cruel.

Shen Ci.

Those two syllables hit me like an ice pick straight through the skull.

I swallow, and suddenly the pickled bamboo shoots in my mouth taste like regret.

Shen Ci — current head of Shen Group, the so-called Living Yama of the business world. The rumors say he took over the family empire at twenty-three, threw his own uncle in prison within three years, and drove a competitor to jump off a building, all while looking immaculate on the cover of finance magazines. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.

And worst of all, three months ago at a charity gala, I dumped a full glass of red wine down his six-figure custom suit in front of half the city’s elite.

Because he said my father’s company “wouldn’t survive next spring.”

My exact words were: “Mr. Shen, if you’re such a fortune teller, why didn’t you predict getting wine thrown on you?”

The room went dead silent.

Shen Ci looked down at the crimson stain spreading across his chest. Then he lifted his gaze to mine. His eyes were black and flat — no anger, no heat, just the kind of calm you see right before someone dies in a mafia movie.

“Miss Su,” he said, “we’ll meet again soon.”

…

Well. Karma just showed up with a marriage license.

“Mom, marrying Shen Ci is basically voluntary widowhood,” I say, making one last pathetic attempt. “And he’s twenty-nine. What if he has… performance issues?”

“Performance issues?” Mom laughs, cold and bitter, and shoves her phone in my face. “He was photographed having dinner with that popular young actress last week. The paparazzi said he has ‘stamina that defies belief.’”

I stare at the blurry silhouette on the screen and feel a thousand mythical beasts stampeding through my chest.

So it’s not that he can’t. It’s that he won’t. With me.

That’s somehow more insulting.

I dump the rest of my luosifen into the trash, appetite officially dead. The sour-spicy broth I was craving five minutes ago now smells like defeat.

“When do I meet him?” I ask, my voice flat.

Mom hesitates. “Tomorrow. His people said he wants to see you himself.”

Of course he does. The devil wants to inspect his purchase before signing the receipt.

I go upstairs, run a bath so hot it turns my skin pink, and stare at the ceiling until the water goes cold. For three hours, I practice what I’ll say to Shen Ci. I’ll be calm. Dignified. I’ll tell him that if he wants a wife, he’ll have to treat me like a human being, not a corporate acquisition.

Then I get to the Shen Residence and every single rehearsed sentence evaporates from my brain.

*

Three days later, I am standing in the middle of the Shen Residence like a piece of livestock at auction.

I’m wearing a season’s-latest haute couture dress and eight-centimeter stilettos, and my face is a blank mask. Shen Ci sits across from me on a charcoal sofa, long legs crossed, holding a cup of black coffee. He doesn’t even look up.

He’s wearing a dark gray dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, exposing a slice of pale collarbone. A black watch catches the light. He looks expensive and distant, like an ice sculpture that someone worships.

The living room is huge — six-meter ceilings, a crystal chandelier dangling like a weapon, abstract paintings I don’t understand, and a Steinway grand piano sitting untouched in the corner. Everything here screams one thing: rich and cold.

“Miss Su.” He finally speaks, voice low and rough, like he just woke up. “Sit.”

I flash him a fake smile. “No need, Mr. Shen. I prefer standing. Easier to run.”

His eyes lift to mine.

In that second, every hair on the back of my neck stands up.

Not because I’m scared — okay, maybe a little — but because he’s looking at me like I’m prey that just walked into his trap.

“Run?” Shen Ci sets his coffee cup down. The ceramic clicks against the glass table, too loud. “Miss Su, do you really think your father’s company will survive past midnight without my signature?”

My fists clench at my sides.

This man. Every word is a knife.

“If you hate me so much, why agree to this marriage?” I straighten my spine. “A business alliance works with anyone. Someone with your assets must have plenty of volunteers.”

“There are plenty,” he says, and stands up.

He walks toward me. Slow. Deliberate. Like a leopard deciding when to pounce.

I instinctively step back, but the sofa arm hits the back of my knees. Nowhere to go.

Shen Ci stops in front of me, looking down. He smells faintly of some cold, expensive cologne and bitter coffee, and somehow it makes my heart beat faster.

“But none of them are as interesting as you,” he says.

I blink. “What?”

“That glass of wine three months ago.” He leans in, voice dropping to a murmur only I can hear. “I haven’t returned it yet.”

His breath brushes my ear and I jolt, electricity shooting down my spine. “H-how are you going to return it?”

Shen Ci straightens, and the corner of his mouth curves into the faintest smile.

“By marrying you.”

I stare at him. “…What?”

“After the wedding, I’ll inject the capital. Your father’s company lives.” He adjusts his cufflinks like he’s discussing the weather. “In exchange, Miss Su will play the role of Mrs. Shen — obedient, well-behaved, and available at all times.”

I want to laugh in his face. “Mr. Shen, are you buying a wife or hiring a nanny?”

“Is there a difference?”

I take three deep breaths. Su Nian, calm down. Five hundred million. Your dad’s life. Thousands of employees. Everything rides on one word from you.

“Fine.” I force a smile that feels more like a grimace. “I’ll marry you.”

Shen Ci seems satisfied. He turns and walks toward the door.

At the threshold, he stops without looking back. “The wedding is next Saturday.”

“That soon?”

“I’m in a hurry.”

“For what?”

He finally glances back, the light gilding the edge of his profile.

“To get married before you change your mind.”

I stare at his back as he leaves. Is this man clinically insane?

*

Back at the Su house, I throw myself onto my bed and stare at the ceiling.

My phone dings. It’s my best friend Lin Lu: So? Did you meet your future husband? Is he hot? Scary? Does he have that ‘woman, you’ve caught my attention’ CEO vibe?

I type back: Hot. Scary. Yes.

Lin Lu: Then what are you worried about? That’s peak Novel material!

Me: Because he wants me to be obedient and available after the wedding.

Lin Lu: …

Lin Lu: Listen. With CEOs like that, you have to play hard to get. The more obedient you are, the more he treats you like furniture. The more you rebel, the more obsessed he gets. It’s science.

I stare at the screen.

Rebel?

That’s basically my brand. My whole life, I’ve specialized in two things: killing conversations and making situations worse.

If Shen Ci wants a docile Mrs. Shen, he’s about to learn that he’s marrying a ticking time bomb.

I grin and send him a message: Mr. Shen, separate rooms after marriage. Agreed?

Three seconds later: No.

Me: Then we each do our own thing?

Shen Ci: Who exactly do you want to do things with?

Me: …

Shen Ci: Su Nian, my patience is limited. You can act out before the wedding. After the wedding —

He doesn’t finish.

But I stare at the ellipsis and feel a chill crawl down my spine.

Then my bedroom door bangs open. Mom stands there, gasping, her face paper-white. “Niannian, it’s bad! Your father… Shen Ci’s people took your father!”

I shoot upright. My phone slips from my hand.

On the screen, a new message pops up from Shen Ci: Come to the Shen Residence. Alone.

—

The wedding hasn’t even happened and he’s already teaching me the rules.

Fine, Shen Ci.

Let’s see who teaches whom.

*

Half an hour later, I’m standing at the gates of the Shen Residence.

The night wind whips my skirt around my legs. I look up at the mansion blazing with light and realize, for the first time, that from the moment I step through this door, my life will never belong to me again.

The guard opens the gate with a bow. “Miss Su, Mr. Shen is waiting in the study.”

I walk in, heels sinking into the thick carpet. The hallway is lined with portraits of Shen ancestors, every face wearing the same expression: cold, commanding, above it all.

I stop at the last door, take a breath, and push it open.

Shen Ci sits behind a massive desk, reading a document. When he hears me, he looks up. His gaze drifts over me, lingering on my windblown hair and flushed cheeks.

“Faster than I expected.”

“Where is my father?”

“Drinking tea next door.” He sets the document down. “Don’t worry. All limbs attached.”

“I want to see him.”

“After we talk.”

“No. Now.”

Shen Ci’s eyes narrow, just slightly. It’s the first crack in his perfect composure, and somehow it makes him look even more dangerous.

“Su Nian,” he says, standing up, “you’re in my house. You don’t make demands here.”

I want to scream at him. I want to grab the paperweight on his desk and throw it at his perfect face. But my father is in the next room, and the five hundred million is hanging by a thread, and every stupid decision I make from this moment on will cost more than just my pride.

So I swallow the scream and meet his eyes.

“Then talk.” My voice is steady, even though my hands are shaking. “But if you’ve hurt him, I swear to God, I’ll make your life hell.”

Shen Ci’s lips twitch. “I’m counting on it.”

I grit my teeth. “Shen Ci, what is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning is simple.” He stands and circles the desk, stopping in front of me. “I want you to understand one thing — in this marriage, there is no room for negotiation.”

He reaches out and catches my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

I’m trapped in his eyes — two deep, black wells.

“You’re threatening me?”

“No.” His thumb traces my jawline, the gesture intimate, his eyes ice-cold. “I’m teaching you the rules.”

I slap his hand away. “I don’t need your rules.”

“No?”

He steps back, pulls a document from the drawer, and drops it in front of me.

“Then see how many rules your father’s signature is worth.”

I look down and my pupils shrink.

It’s a share transfer agreement.

My father’s signature is right there.

“What did you do to him?” My voice trembles.

“Nothing much.” Shen Ci sits back down, tone casual. “I just let him understand, ahead of schedule, who owns this game.”

I clutch the document so hard my nails threaten to tear the paper.

“Shen Ci,” I look up, speaking each word clearly, “you’ll regret this.”

He looks at me — and suddenly smiles.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile. It’s beautiful, and it makes my blood run cold.

“Su Nian,” he says. “I look forward to it.”Chapter 2: The Prenup from Hell