Chapter 4: The sin of possessing a treasure

Pale golden sunlight spilled across the room through the half-open curtains.

Tan Zhuo heard the rustle of fabric and tried hard to open her eyes…

In her daze, she vaguely saw the man’s wild, primal contours—hidden and revealed in flashes. She seemed to glimpse a white satin ribbon winding from his shoulders downward, his waist and abdomen as sharp as a cut through the Milky Way, drenched in a thin sheen of sweat, almost translucent.

The next second, the black silk robe closed, and that cold, untouchable aura returned.

Only the decadent scent lingering in the air betrayed the unrestrained indulgence.

In the interweaving of light and shadow, desire and sanctity coexisted on him—mysterious and sensual, like a perfect piece of sculptural art.

At this point, what was done was done.

Tan Zhuo reached out, intending to grab the corner of his robe, but her slender fingers only weakly hooked onto the man’s dangling pinky, murmuring like a soft command, “Seal completed. The identity of Mrs. Chao is mine!”

Completely devoid of threat—more like a whisper.

Chao Huai Du lowered his gaze.

He looked down from above, sweeping past the girl’s water-soaked appearance. Then, he gently placed her hand back under the thin quilt.

Tan Zhuo, half-asleep, thought she heard his reply, but she didn’t have the energy to confirm it and drifted off.

At two in the afternoon, only a slender figure remained on the bed.

The alcohol and intense “activity” had taken their toll. When Tan Zhuo woke up, she stared blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling, completely dazed for several minutes.

The memories of the previous night slowly came back.

Then, tangled up in the quilt, she wanted to roll into a ball.

Ahhh!

She was seriously bold—to actually knock on Chao Huai Du’s door!

That lychee whiskey was absolutely toxic—courage-enhancing poison!

Even though he had already left, the smoldering tension still felt like some sort of “torture.”

Tan Zhuo hid under the covers for a while to calm down before she finally sat up slowly and noticed the room was empty.

Not surprising.

It was already afternoon, and with Chao Huai Du’s schedule, where he barely had ten minutes free, him still being here would’ve been a miracle.

Aside from that…

On the coffee table sat her copy of the marriage document—and a sticky note.

Tan Zhuo, still wrapped in the thin quilt, clumsily got out of bed and nearly stepped on her dusty pink nightdress hanging off the bed. She paused, then wadded it up and threw it in the trash.

She picked up the note.

It only had a phone number and the words “Private Number.”

Tan Zhuo’s lips curled into a smile.

Thankfully, the outcome was satisfactory.

Tan Zhuo wasn’t in a rush to contact Chao Huai Du, because the heirloom antique she was planning to sell to repay debt had finally found a buyer.

She had just gotten off the cruise ship and hurried straight to her studio.

The studio was opened by her senior, Mei Xiting, who had grown up with her and studied antiques alongside her. It specialized in antique appraisal and acquisition. With more and more clients, he had brought in his favorite junior to help.

Tan Zhuo had loved antiques since she was a child, and her grandfather was a renowned antique collector. With all that influence, she had absorbed a vast amount of appraisal knowledge. As a rich heiress, she had seen countless artifacts, making her far more capable than many “textbook-only” professionals.

The moment she graduated, Mei Xiting coaxed her into joining.

Originally, she had planned to mess around for a few days, then return to inherit her family fortune and enjoy life as a pampered heiress.

But alas, man proposes, heaven disposes.

Bankruptcy struck!

Now the heiress had to keep working.

A tragic story indeed.

The studio was located in Jiangcheng’s most famous antique alley. From the reception area, one had to pass through corridors lined with faux-antique lamps, wind around elegant screens, and finally reach Tan Zhuo’s private workspace—a serene and quiet setting.

The carved windows were half-open.

Outside, pear blossoms weighed down the branches—snowy white and in full bloom.

As Tan Zhuo pushed the door open, she saw Mei Xiting sitting at her usual work desk, holding a magnifying glass, studying the blue-and-white porcelain vase she was planning to sell.

Mei Xiting recognized her footsteps and asked without turning around, “This is a Yongle-era imperial vase. Almost none circulate on the market anymore. The last one fetched over a hundred million. Are you sure about selling it privately?”

“If people find out how many antiques you own… aren’t you worried?”

Tan Zhuo glanced at the vase, paused briefly, and a trace of sadness flickered through her clear eyes. But she only said lightly, “What’s there to be afraid of?”

This was just the first.

Many more antiques would follow. If she let fear stop her, she’d be paralyzed. The Tan family hadn’t just gone bankrupt—they’d left behind billions in debt.

All of her parents’ assets had been seized, but what remained in her name were the antiques her grandfather had transferred to her before his death—many passed down for generations, others from his personal collection.

When she took stock, even she was shocked by the sheer number and value.

Her senior was right—if people found out about her collection, now that she’d lost the Tan family’s protection, she’d surely become a target.

Her ancestors had always forbidden selling heirloom antiques for profit, not only for heritage reasons, but also because—possessing treasure invites trouble.

“Sigh, it’s dangerous for a girl like you to hold onto these…”

Mei Xiting couldn’t help but sigh helplessly.

But Tan Zhuo had no choice now.

Debt must be repaid—simple as that.

Though she was eager to liquidate the antiques, she refused to expose herself. She also didn’t want the pieces leaving the country, so she only looked for true collectors in private and refused to sell to just anyone offering a high price.

But without going through auctions, selling privately at a good price was hard—especially without connections. Luckily, Mei Xiting still had a solid client base.

Her legs were sore from staying in the same position last night.

Tan Zhuo wasn’t the type to moan and wallow—she believed everything would work out in the end.

She recalled the night before. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

Then she slumped onto the couch like a boneless cat, weariness clouding her delicate features. “Let’s not talk about it. What time’s the buyer coming?”

“If it’s not urgent, I’d like to nap a bit.”

Mei Xiting set down the magnifying glass and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Six o’clock tonight—two more hours. You can…”

His words trailed off as he inadvertently noticed the back of her neck.

Her always-porcelain-like neck now bore faint marks on a small patch of skin. Her black hair was loosely tied, and a few stray strands did little to hide them. She seemed totally unaware.

Mei Xiting’s tone shifted. “What, did a cat chew on your neck? Or was it a dog?”

“Hmm?”

What cat or dog?

Tan Zhuo was inputting the phone number into WeChat, getting ready to send a friend request with the message: [Your wife (future].

She hadn’t finished typing “future” when her brain suddenly caught up with Mei Xiting’s words. She abruptly sat up straight… unaware that the request had already been sent.

Logically, her first reaction should’ve been to cover her neck.

But as she raised her hand, she gave up—her wrist was sore too.

Whatever. It’s not like he was a stranger.

Under her senior’s suspicious gaze, Tan Zhuo curled back onto the sofa and said slowly, “Actually… I did something big last night.”

If she pulled it off, she’d never have to worry about lacking a powerful backer again.

What are you doing?!

Mei Xiting misunderstood: “Stop, stop, stop…”

“You’re just a young girl. How can you say such crude things?”

“There have been so many people sending you roses lately. Which one is it?”

Thinking of that handsome, otherworldly face from last night.

Tan Zhuo spat out four mocking words: “They’re not worthy.”

“Who is worthy?”

“You’ll know once you receive my wedding invitation.”

Mei Xiting: “Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

Seeing the state she’s in now, that man is either extremely possessive, highly dominant, or both.

Tan Zhuo didn’t take it seriously. It’s just getting married. What trouble could she get into?

These days, who doesn’t get married two or three times?

The buyer was a local in Jiangcheng, but his identity had to remain confidential. He didn’t even give his real name, only went by Mr. Yuan.

He even booked the most private venue in Jiangcheng—Lu Jin Clubhouse.

Only the rich and powerful could enter this place. Not only was the minimum spending in the six figures per visit, but capital verification was also required.

If your assets didn’t meet the standard, you couldn’t even book a room.

The top-tier VIP Black Card had only five issued—extremely rare, granting the exclusive right to a private room and access at any time.

Below that was the standard VIP card, which required appointments in advance.

Tan Zhuo was relieved she still had her VIP card.

Otherwise, it would’ve been pretty awkward not being able to get in.

Once inside the private room, the buyer showed up late.

In the past, Tan Zhuo would’ve flipped out at someone so oblivious to time. But now… for the sake of money, she tolerated it.

She originally thought she came to talk antiques and business.

They’d chat about the artifact, inspect it, and naturally proceed with the deal.

But this newbie in the “business world” was too naive.

The buyer didn’t talk about antiques. He didn’t talk about money.

Instead, he wanted to talk about feelings.

Other people’s feelings.

Mr. Yuan said: “I truly want to buy it. This blue-and-white porcelain vase holds an ancient story involving my elders.”

“One was a noble young master, the other a well-bred young lady… The vase was a token of their love. It witnessed their romance.”

“Who knew… lovers couldn’t grow old together. The vase was lost. By the time it was found again, they were separated by death.”

Tan Zhuo grew sleepy listening. When he finally paused to sip tea and was clearly about to continue—

She clapped her hands perfectly on cue and cut straight to the point: “What a beautifully tragic love story.”

“How about this—”

“No need for 100 million. I’ll take 99.99 million. May they love each other forever in their next life!”

“A toast to tragic romance!”

Then she raised her glass of purified water.

Clinked it against his teacup—unilaterally ending the deal with a “perfect conclusion.”

Mr. Yuan blinked for several seconds: “…”

“Um… isn’t 1 million off a bit little? I mean… I’m kinda tight on cash…”

Tan Zhuo’s mouth fired off: “Don’t you want your elders and their first love to be together in the next life?”

“Think about it. If I give you a discount down to 88.88 million, doesn’t that imply they’re saying goodbye in this life and the next?”

“If your elders knew from the afterlife—”

Mr. Yuan interrupted, confused: “Wait a second, my elders aren’t dead yet!”

Tan Zhuo responded quickly, totally confident: “But their first love is still part of your elders, isn’t it?”

Mr. Yuan: “Well… I guess that’s true…”

But something still felt off.

…

While the two of them were bargaining, they didn’t notice someone had passed by outside and paused for a while.

—

At the end of the top-floor corridor was a permanently reserved VIP room.

The clubhouse’s behind-the-scenes owner, Bo Jing, personally poured a glass of wine for Chao Huai Du.

He laughed, “Your little uncle is promoting your family’s great love story again here.”

“This time, it’s to negotiate a discount with a young woman over an antique.”

“That girl’s even funnier. For the sake of that tragic romance, she knocked a million off the vase’s price. Said she wished them a long, happy afterlife together.”

Bo Jing couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Do you think your grandfather knows his legendary romance with his beloved first love is only worth a million?”

Bo Jing and Chao Huai Du grew up together—real childhood friends. So he spoke freely.

Chao Huai Du had just finished work. His handsome features showed a trace of fatigue, but no real emotion.

Only under the dim light could one faintly see his amber eyes—like a frozen lake.

He took a sip of strong liquor, offering no comment.

Not long after, Secretary Cui entered and said in a low voice:

“Third Master wants to buy that blue-and-white vase as a birthday gift for the old master’s eightieth.”

He paused subtly.

“And also…”

Bo Jing crossed his arms, amused: “What, I’m not allowed to hear it? I’ll cover my ears.”

Chao Huai Du replied indifferently: “Say it.”

Secretary Cui continued:

“The seller… is Miss Tan.”

Upon hearing the name, Chao Huai Du slowly put down his glass.

The sound of glass hitting the marble table was crisp.

As if recalling something, he casually asked Secretary Cui for his personal phone.

Bo Jing leaned over curiously as Chao Huai Du turned on the phone.

“Miss Tan? You two know each other?”

“That girl’s got the face of a peerless beauty. And that sharp tongue of hers—man, she’s my type.”

“She can piss people off in just a few sentences. Got her WeChat? Send it to me.”

Bo Jing had only recently moved to Jiangcheng and didn’t know Tan Zhuo.

Chao Huai Du opened WeChat.

The first message that popped up was from Tan Zhuo:

【Your wife】

His finger lightly brushed the cold metal edge of the phone.

Bo Jing saw clearly: “Your wife?”

“Who is that?”

Who would be so bold as to send Chao Huai Du a message like that?

Then—

Chao Huai Du calmly hit “Accept.”

“Oh, my wife.”

“Still want it?”

“???”

“Want… want what?”

“My wife’s WeChat.”

—

A few minutes later.

Bo Jing nearly lost his composure, dazed as he followed Chao Huai Du out of the private room.

He felt like even his sharp brain couldn’t keep up.

At the front desk.

Tan Zhuo had just seen Mr. Yuan off and was about to pay the bill.

Suddenly, a slender male hand with defined knuckles pressed down on the edge of her card—

And placed a black card next to it.

A cool, clear voice followed: “Use this.”

At first, Tan Zhuo thought it was another suitor. She was about to frown and say, “No—”

But then she turned and looked up.

That handsome, detached face of Chao Huai Du entered her vision.

He stood tall behind her, radiating a strong, intimidating presence.

Tan Zhuo blinked in surprise. She had originally planned to call him tonight, but unexpectedly, she ran into him.

So, quite naturally, she withdrew her own card and let Chao Huai Du pay, adding a gentle, sweet, standard “little wife” smile: “Thank you.”

Her future husband.
Of course, he’s not getting the same treatment as other suitors!

Chao Huai Du saw right through her thoughts: “You’re welcome.”

At that moment, Tan Zhuo noticed the equally distinguished-looking young man behind Chao Huai Du: “Your friend?”

Chao Huai Du casually introduced, “Childhood friend.”
“The owner of this club, Bo Jing.”

Club owner?

Tan Zhuo’s peach blossom eyes lit up a little. She reached out a finger and lightly poked the man’s veined hand, asking in a hushed voice, “Can you ask your childhood friend not to cancel my card yet?”

Just in case a future antique buyer insists on this place—if her qualifications aren’t enough and the card is canceled, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

Chao Huai Du lowered his gaze and looked at her for a few seconds. Then he pulled the card from between her fingers and handed it to Bo Jing: “Upgrade it to the highest tier. Permanent reserved private room. Put it on my account.”

Bo Jing, watching their whole interaction, finally believed what Chao Huai Du had said.

“What account? Take it as my gift to my sister-in-law.”

He directly broke protocol and upgraded her to the sixth-ever black card since the club opened.

She had taken a cab to get here. Now she sat in her future husband’s luxury car on the way back.

The custom Bentley interior was understated and luxurious. The man sitting beside her was as refined as jade.

But Tan Zhuo had no time to admire the luxury car or the handsome man. She leaned back in the silver-gray leather seat, holding the freshly issued black card from the Lu Jin Club, deep in thought.

Hiss…

This was the sixth and only one of its kind!

Definitely one-of-a-kind in the Jiangcheng elite ladies group chat!

Too bad, after her family announced bankruptcy, that group kicked her out immediately.

Suddenly—
Tan Zhuo’s cherry lips curled into a mischievous smile. She took a picture of the black card, then started tapping quickly on her phone.

Big Miss is Back: [Add me back to the group.]

Green Tea Socialite Jiang XX: [?]

“You have been added back to the Jiangcheng Elite Ladies Group by Jiang Qingci.”

As the group members sat in confusion—
Tan Zhuo casually dropped a picture and a comment: [What kind of elite lady still uses a basic card at Lu Jin Club~]

Then, cleanly and coolly, she left the group.

A move designed purely to irritate.

Sitting beside her, Chao Huai Du easily saw all of her childish antics thanks to his height advantage, then calmly withdrew his gaze.

He hoped she’d keep it up.
The old man would definitely like a “graceful and elegant” socialite like her.

Tan Zhuo, satisfied after her mischief, finally noticed she was sitting a bit too close to Chao Huai Du.

In the enclosed space, his unique white sandalwood scent surrounded her. It was as if cold snow and sandalwood fought and coexisted at once, making every breath addictive and agitating.

It reminded her of last night.

Before she could think further, a marriage contract was handed to her from the side.

Followed by Chao Huai Du’s cool and professional voice, full of oppressive calm: “If there’s no issue, we can register the marriage anytime.”

The car drove smoothly. Tan Zhuo exhaled softly to calm herself down.

She opened the contract—it was very simple, far simpler than what a multi-billionaire should present.

She pondered for a moment and asked curiously, “Why isn’t there any property notarization?”

Don’t rich people usually insist on that?

Chao Huai Du replied concisely, “No time.”

Secretary Cui in the front seat added, “Because Mr. Chao’s personal assets require three to five months for the legal team to evaluate.”

Tan Zhuo was silent for a few seconds. Then she sincerely assured him, “Don’t worry. Even if we get divorced in the future, I won’t take a cent of your money!”

Secretary Cui: The marriage isn’t even official yet, and the future Mrs. Chao is already preparing for divorce. He wasn’t sure whether to congratulate the boss or not.

He also wondered whether he should remind her to read the last page of the contract:

Once effective, the agreement cannot be dissolved.

Still, this very normal marriage contract made one thing clear:

They weren’t playing fake marriage—this was the real deal.

Chao Huai Du, uncharacteristically patient, asked again: “Any other questions?”

Tan Zhuo was just about to say no.

Then she suddenly remembered last night and raised her hand obediently: “Yes, I want to add a supplemental clause.”

Chao Huai Du: “Hmm?”

Tan Zhuo cautiously asked, “Can we manage… bedroom matters ourselves?”

He calmly replied, “No. That’s a necessary marital obligation.”

Tan Zhuo choked: “What exactly counts as a necessary marital obligation?”

Chao Huai Du answered with composure, “s*x.”

Huh?

HUH?!

Looking at this aloof, cold, emotionally distant man, Tan Zhuo started to wonder if she was hallucinating.

Chao Huai Du said calmly, “You can refuse.”

He was clearly trying to scare her.

She wasn’t falling for it!

So, Tan Zhuo rebelled: “I just won’t!”

She had sacrificed so much to secure her position as Mrs. Chao.