Our story actually began long before we ever crossed paths again as adults.

My parents were model professors who had mentored countless successful students across the country. The only defect in their pristine record was their biological daughter, me. After graduation, I defied their wishes and threw myself into show business. Two years of struggling at the bottom later, I had no choice but to compromise: play the dutiful daughter and accept an arranged marriage.

That was when Fu Chenyan re-entered my life. Broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, tailored in a sleek silver-grey suit, he exuded an effortless blend of scholarly refinement and aristocratic elegance, a far cry from the impoverished student he used to be.

Back in high school, he was a grade above me.

He was the kind of obsessively serious guy who made everyone around him feel self-conscious. His uniform was faded, but every button was fastened straight up to his throat. Every Monday morning, he was the one standing rigid as ice beneath the flagpole, giving the student address.

I still remember the time I ran a single minute late for class and got caught red-handed by him. I pulled my usual flirting trick, batting my lashes. “Come on… can’t you just let it slide this once?”

He merely spared me a frostbitten glare before coldly writing my name down in his disciplinary ledger. Unmoved. Completely immune.

Offended by his absolute indifference, I made a bet with my best friend: I was going to flirt with Fu Chenyan, break him, make him my boyfriend, and see what that stoic, icy face looked like when he was actually in love.

I poured every ounce of my literary dramatic flair into writing him daily love letters. Yet, two weeks went by, and he remained as unbothered as a stone statue. Right when I was about to give up, Qi Han, my ex-boyfriend, returned from his athletic training program.

Qi Han was the polar opposite of Fu Chenyan. Strikingly handsome, effortless, a total bad boy to the world, but as docile as a golden retriever around me. He was an incredible kisser and loved showing off his chiseled eight-pack to tease me.

One day, inside the equipment room, Qi Han scooped me up and set me onto the table. His passionate, breathless kiss completely wiped my silly bet with the school topper from my mind. “Don’t break up with me…” he murmured, coaxing softly. “I’ll change, I promise.”

Right on cue, the door swung open. Fu Chenyan walked in leading the student council, his eyes cold enough to freeze water as if he’d caught us in an illicit affair. I scrambled off the table in a panic, but Qi Han casually smoothed down my collar, casting a rebellious, arrogant look at the crowd.

“Write down whatever you want, then get lost,” Qi Han snapped. “Stop interrupting me while I’m winning my ex back.”

Driven by Qi Han’s relentless persistence, I got back together with him. As for making Fu Chenyan fall for me? I threw that idea into the trash long ago. Little did I know that years later, the man I so carelessly abandoned would end up becoming my husband.

That year, Fu Chenyan scored the highest in the entire province on the college entrance exams, a record unbroken for years to come. He became a living legend at our school, while I, having failed to break his resolve, never crossed paths with him again.

Until our next meeting, when the once-abstinent prodigy turned up as my blind date.

He was now an accomplished honorary professor, radiating a mature, commanding presence. The naive nerdiness of his youth was completely gone, replaced by the dangerous charm of a fully grown man.

To be honest, when he agreed to meet me, I thought there was a glitch in the simulation. Inside a high-end French restaurant, he casually swirled his glass of water and asked point-blank, “When are we getting married?”

I almost choked on my drink. He explained that his family was pressing him hard, while I desperately needed a respectable marriage to appease my parents so I could keep acting. He laid down his terms: no interference in each other’s personal lives, and he’d agree to a divorce whenever I wanted one.

I took three seconds to think it over. My conclusion: A match made in heaven. So we got hitched.

After picking up our marriage certificate, I followed him back to his pristine white villa. That night, after my shower, I slid under the covers and scrolled through my phone in anticipation. When the bathroom door opened, a wave of warm steam drifted out, carrying a tall, drop-dead gorgeous man wrapped only in a towel.

Sculpted eight-pack abs, standing at nearly six-foot-three, with forearms that looked twice the size of mine. I bit my lip: Okay, fine, I’m definitely feeling things.

Instead of coming over, he calmly put on his glasses, leaned against the headboard, and started reading… a physics paper.

I was bewildered. We’re not sleeping in separate rooms? So… what am I supposed to do now?

Just as I was texting my best friend for emergency advice, Fu Chenyan called my name. In the dead silence of the room, my finger slipped, and my friend’s voice note blasted out loud for both of us to hear:

— “With a size difference like that, we all know who’s going to be getting the best end of the deal tonight!”

The air froze solid. I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. Fu Chenyan gently set his book aside, took off his glasses, and leaned in, trapping me in a deep kiss that tasted faintly of fresh mint.

That night, we did it three times. The first time he was cautious; the second felt like an experiment; by the third, he finally let loose.

Tears welled up in my eyes from sheer exhaustion. “No more… I really can’t take it…”

He stared down at me for a few seconds, then silently carried me to the bathroom to clean me up. It was then that it hit me: A loveless marriage with physical compatibility this good… didn’t seem so bad after all.