Chapter Text
It was decided. He was going to catch himself a rich husband to save him from his life, more specifically from the desperate financial situation he was in, which wasn’t even his fault, Yu Wanyin thought as he looked around the hall.
He was in the middle of a crowd of rich people with titles. Aristocrats and members of the royalty filled the Golden Palace’s ballroom in Lanling, threatening to outshine the enormous gold chandeliers hanging above their heads. He could feel the wealth saturating the very air, like the exclusive scent of champagne and peony flowers mixed with the discreet pheromones of alphas and omegas circulating through the room, almost suffocating if you paid attention.
This was the first time in Wanyin’s twenty-seven years that he found himself in a palace ballroom. Technically still a ballroom with a group of princes, but still.
He should have been glowing. He told himself he was. He had traveled all the way from a modest district in Sichuan to opulent Lanling, this golden heart of modern royalty, to celebrate his favorite sister’s surprising engagement to an actual prince. And he was happy for Yanli and the lovely Prince Jin Zixuan… of course he was. But if sweet, sensible Yanli could be engaged to the crown prince of Lanling Jin, Wanyin didn’t see why he couldn’t find a rich husband for himself right here in this prosperous city, where there was no shortage of wealthy men.
And that person didn’t even have to be royalty, he thought generously, glancing around from his position near one of the tall white marble pillars lining the hall.
All he needed was a big, solid bank account.
And being a Beta, at least he didn’t carry the extra weight of a heat or pheromones that might give away any desperation. It was one of the few advantages of being the “neutral” type most people barely noticed.
He wanted to pretend this was all a joke, but it wasn’t. He was desperate.
Yu Wanyin felt his expression tighten and made a conscious effort to soften it. A scowl was hardly going to please anyone, much less inspire sudden marriage proposals from the kind of men who could buy all the smiles they wanted the way ordinary people like him bought milk and eggs.
“You look dazzling with a smile on your face, dear,” his mother had said before waving at someone in the crowd. Always in that low tone, usually punctuated by one of the sharp smiles that were Yu Ziyuan’s trademark.
And before she left, she added, “Why don’t you find someone rich tonight. If you’re going to marry one anyway… might as well make it the best, don’t you think?” That was Yu Ziyuan’s brand of maternal advice.
But thinking about his mother’s encouragement and complicity didn’t help. Not now, while he was neck-deep in another one of her messes.
Hurt, fury, and incomprehension wrapped around him again at the thought of the 400,000 yuan his mother had spent on a credit card he didn’t even know he’d 'accidentally' gotten. Wanyin had discovered the horrible debt two days ago.
When he opened the statement and, after the initial shock, immediately realized his mother was the one to blame, that it wasn’t some kind of mistake. It wasn’t the first time she’d 'borrowed' money from Wanyin, or even the first 'accident,' but it was the first time she’d gone this far.
“I just got a bill for a credit card I never applied for,” he had said when his mother answered the call like she didn’t have a single care in the world.
“Oh…” Ziyuan murmured in that faintly shocked tone that told Wanyin she hadn’t, as usual, thought about the consequences of her actions. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Yin-er. But I never found the right moment. You wouldn’t want to ruin Yanli’s weekend with unpleasant subjects, of course, but we’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”
Yu Wanyin simply hung up, unable to speak for fear of screaming himself hoarse. And then crying like the child he had never been, not when he’d had to play the adult for his mother’s excesses from a very young age. And Wanyin never cried.
Never. Not even over Yu Ziyuan’s countless failures as a mother and as a human being. Not for any reason he could remember. Crying never solved anything anyway.
Four hundred thousand, Wanyin thought now, standing in the middle of the splendid hall, but it didn’t feel real.
Not the fairy-tale beauty and elegance of the palace around him, and not that absurd number. Just thinking about that sum of money sent a wave of panic through him, making his skin clammy and his breathing shallow. Four hundred thousand yuan.
Neither he nor Yu Ziyuan had the slightest hope of paying that huge amount. The only thing his mother was famous for was her marriage to a retired movie actor and the frequent media speculation and gossip. That marriage had resulted in two more step-siblings and almost nothing else. Aside from the notoriety, of course. Yu Ziyuan had owned a jewelry shop before she started riding the coattails of that man’s glory.
Yu Wanyin had learned long ago not to ask about that union, so he wouldn’t have to hear another lecture from his mother, the relentless social climber, about how marriage, if done correctly with some celebrity who liked spending money, was simply common sense and a good deal.
What he did know for sure was that there weren’t piles of money lying around the house in Beijing, or the apartment in Shanghai, or Yu Ziyuan wouldn’t have 'borrowed' from her own son, would she? The truth was, Wanyin suspected his stepfather had cut her off a long time ago.
Wanyin couldn’t fight the sadness that settled over him when he thought, not for the first time, what his life would be like now if Yu Ziyuan had been a normal mother. If she had cared about anyone besides herself. Not that Wanyin complained. He had always been treated well by his stepfather and his family. To be honest, the man was the only father he had ever known.
They were the only family he had, but that didn’t make them his family.
He wished, not for the first time, that he had dedicated himself to a career, to something bigger. But he had been so beautiful at sixteen that he felt confident he would find his way in life, and he had, one way or another.
He had worked more jobs than he could count since then, none of them lasting long, but he always told himself that was how he liked it. He had modeled for several designers, owned his own shop for a year or two, and generally did some modeling work here and there. It was always a struggle, but he paid the rent and the bills, and often managed to save a little money too.
Not 400,000 yuan, of course. Nowhere near that.
Wanyin sighed quietly. What was he going to do? Declare bankruptcy? Have his mother arrested for fraud? As furious and hurt as he was, he couldn’t do either of those things.
All right, he thought then, his usually practical nature taking over, pushing down the wave of self-pity.
Enough complaining, Wanyin. Tonight you have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Pull yourself together and use it!
He took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, took a sip, and straightened his shoulders. He decided to ignore the slight tremor in his hands. He was Yu Wanyin. He was strong, he had to be, his whole life. He didn’t falter at the first sign of adversity. He didn’t recognize defeat.
As his stepfather used to say, defeat was nothing more than an opportunity to succeed the next time. And the wonderful thing about having no options was that he had no choice but to succeed.
“So,” he muttered to himself with conviction, “I will.”
His reason for playing this game might be desperation, but that didn’t change the fact that it was a game Wanyin was good at. How could he not be? he thought with black humor. It was in his genes.
He slid his free hand over the curve of his hip, making sure the suit was in place, clinging to the well-defined lines of the body he had inherited from his mother. He couldn’t even feel grateful to Yu Ziyuan for that small gift. Not tonight. Wanyin knew it was the only weapon and most advantageous quality he had. His body.
Nearby, a thin-faced older man and his wife looked at him as if he had committed some horrible breach of etiquette, then looked away. Anything was possible, of course, but Wanyin knew he would manage to keep a low profile at Yanli’s party.
He would leave the appalling behavior to the rest of the family, all gathered under that elegant roof and more than willing for the job.
It was, in fact, a tradition in that family to create a scandal wherever they went.
His younger sister had recently been involved in an engagement that ended so dramatically and publicly, at the altar, no less, cameras flashing, that Wanyin cynically assumed it was part of her desperate attempt to grab the press’s attention.
She was so much like their mother, even without sharing the same blood, that she was undoubtedly somewhere in that hall right now, tossing her black hair like a woman half her age, inevitably dressed in some scandalous outfit and plotting something. Maybe the mother and sister were even plotting some mischief together… A possibility Wanyin didn’t even want to think about.
He, on the other hand, needed to behave well enough to catch the right man’s eye, and badly enough not to let him get away. When a thin-faced older man gave him an appreciative look behind his wife’s back, Wanyin smiled with satisfaction. The game was on.
He looked around the hall, fortified by a second glass of champagne, sizing up the possibilities. After a bit of observation, and a long look at an obviously rich man with a nose that could, if necessary, double as a bridge over the Yangtze River, Wanyin admitted he wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.
Looking around, he also ruled out all the men who were already accompanied, since he had neither the time nor the inclination to compete, and in any case he wasn’t interested in someone else’s husband.
He might have become a shameless fortune hunter, he thought, but he still had some standards.
He was careful to avoid any family members, including Yu Ziyuan and his older brother, as he started circulating through the crowd. And also those he was particularly close to, like the bride, Yanli.
He thought ironically, hiding behind another pillar to avoid a group that, to his inexperienced eyes, looked like rich snobs.
And that was when he saw him.
He was hidden, there was no better word for it, almost absorbed by the shadows of the next pillar, alone, offering Wanyin a clear view of an authoritative profile.
He was magnificent.
Wanyin stopped for a moment, his eyes tracing every detail. The shoulders were broad and well-defined, elegantly highlighted by the impeccable cut of the designer suit. He stood with his feet slightly apart, one hand tucked into his pants pocket and the other resting naturally on a cane of dark wood and polished metal. The posture carried something dangerous, contained, and the cane only intensified that impression.
There was something about him, Wanyin thought, when a strange emotion left him momentarily breathless.
He couldn’t look away. Maybe it was the dark hair, longer than usual for the fashion, creating an intriguing contrast with the sober, conservative suit.
Maybe it was the thoughtful expression with which he observed the hall, as if nothing around him was capable of holding his interest, as if he were silently fighting some deep shadow he carried inside… an internal presence almost visible to the naked eye.
Maybe it was the rigid jaw or the serious line of the mouth, which Wanyin suddenly interpreted as a challenge, though he couldn’t explain exactly why.
Or maybe it was the thin scar that ran down from his face to his neck.
The way he held the cane, not like a crutch but like a natural extension of his own body, made him absurdly attractive. The contrast between the evident strength of his shoulders and the need for that support turned whatever injury he carried into something almost obscenely seductive.
Wanyin felt his stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with financial panic.
And when the man’s soft scent reached him, he understood why. The aura of a dominant alpha like that wasn’t something you saw every day.
Even from a distance, the pheromone was unmistakable: clean, cold, evocative of nature and old wood, devoid of the spicy or inviting notes most alphas released when interested. It was controlled, almost austere. Wanyin, being a beta, didn’t have an omega’s sensitivity, but he still perceived it clearly.
There was a note of ancient authority in it, the same one alphas of long lineages carried in their blood: the quiet certainty that the space around him belonged to him, not by brute force, but by right.
Wanyin’s body, though typically stable and without active heat receptors, had a rare residual sensitivity. An alpha’s pheromones didn’t hit him the same way they hit an omega. They didn’t trigger heat. Instead, they penetrated him in a more subtle and deeper way.
Whatever else that man was, Wanyin thought, with adrenaline pumping through his blood and making his whole body pulse, he was a candidate.
Wanyin moved toward him, pleased to notice that the closer he got, the more impressive he became. He wasn’t surprised when the man turned his head to give him a look while he was still several meters away. And he had the distinct impression that the alpha had sensed his approach from the moment he first looked at him. As if he were aware of everything happening around him.
For a moment, Wanyin saw nothing except that magnetic gaze. Light eyes, the most beautiful he had ever seen.
He seemed to see right through him, as if Wanyin were entirely transparent. As if he could read his desperation, his dreams, his plans, and his hopes in a single intense look.
He blinked, then noticed the way the weight was distributed on the cane.
There was a controlled limp in the right leg, smoothed by the elegant support of the cane. Wanyin gasped in shock, but he didn’t stop walking. He couldn’t. It was as if the man was already pulling him and he was simply yielding to the inevitable.
What a pity, he thought, because the rest of him was undeniably beautiful. Still, a part of him, the practical part and another, far less practical part, whispered: the scar and the cane only make it better. As if he were some kind of easy target because of them.
As if they caused as much desperation as Wanyin felt. He hated himself for thinking that. But he kept walking.
The man’s eyes grew colder as he approached and looked almost glacial when Wanyin stopped in front of him. He remained silent and still, radiating power and self-control, the cane resting with an almost lazy elegance. His pheromone stayed contained, with no trace of interest or aggression.
Wanyin told himself it was just nerves making his mouth so dry and took a sip of champagne to moisten it.
The man in Wanyin liked the fact that he was a little taller. And the mercenary side liked the fact that he practically exuded wealth. A wealth that was obvious in the elegant simplicity of everything he wore and in the cane of noble wood and silver details that looked like it cost more than a year’s rent.
Clothes that, despite their simple appearance, came with exorbitant price tags. He knew, because he had worn that kind of clothing when he was modeling. A kind of high fashion he could never have dreamed of buying.
“You look lost,” the man said in a low voice as cold as his gaze. An uninviting voice. Luckily, Wanyin wasn’t easily intimidated. “The party is behind you.”
The voice seemed to wrap around him, like the touch of a strong, calloused hand. It was also very elegant. Wanyin smiled, then tilted his head to the side, studying him. As if it were still possible, the eyes became even colder than before, the line of the mouth more serious. The hand holding the cane tightened slightly, and the gesture only made him sexier.
He realized then, instinctively, that nothing about this man would be easy, whether he was a target, a candidate for his game, or not. And, perhaps more importantly, it was unlikely that a man like him would be impressed by someone like him.
But Wanyin pushed the thought down. He was facing a challenge, and he wasn’t the type to give up. He might have invented this make your own fairy tale plan in a wave of panic, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good plan. There was no reason to change it now. Or to put on a false front. He was what he was, like it or not.
“What happened to your leg?” he asked bluntly, and waited to see what the man would do.
Lan Huan, who hated the fact that he was dressed in uncomfortable clothes for the explicit purpose of proclaiming the title of Lan family heir to all his distant relatives in the Jin royal family, as duty required, looked at the man in front of him, more shocked than he had felt in a very, very long time.
He couldn’t have heard him correctly.
But delicate eyebrows rose over intense violet eyes, making the handsome face look intelligent, and he stared at him with the kind of amused patience that indicated Lan Huan had heard him perfectly.
He was used to people who, spotting him from afar, came toward him with purpose in their eyes. He knew the whole ritual by heart. They all approached, delicious curves marked by clothes like the suit this man was wearing, until he showed them the truth of the leg and the cane.
Which Lan Huan always did. On purpose. Even cruelly.
That was a defect no one could stand looking at for long, much less him. It was the mark of a man who had survived something that should have killed him, dressed in an Italian suit of absurd price, and Lan Huan lived with the bitter knowledge that the leg wasn’t even half of it, not compared to the monster inside him.
It always ended the same way. The more polite people fixed their attention on a point beyond him and walked away, never giving him a second glance. The less polite ones gasped in horror, as if they had seen something too broken, then turned and hurried off.
Lan Huan had seen it hundreds of times. Such reactions no longer bothered him. He told himself they were, at least, sincere. The sad truth was that he felt grateful, on some level, for the injury and the cane, which announced how unsuitable he was for any kind of human interaction. It was better that everyone was warned in advance.
This man, however, in the black suit that revealed perfect lines, with dark hair that seemed as bold as the violet eyes, was still standing there. Even after Huan presented the uneven weight of the right leg and the support of the cane, showing the mark that labeled him as the man he had always known he was, long before he had the evidence of it on his body.
And then he asked him a direct question about the leg.
In all the years since the accident, that had never happened. Which alone would have made it interesting. The fact that he was beautiful awakened in him a kind of pain Huan had thought he would never feel again. Well, that was just an extra bonus.
And the scent…
There was none. Or rather, there was only the light neutral scent of a Beta, clean, without the sweet, cloying notes he detested with a visceral intensity. Most omegas made him feel nauseous. Their pheromones, especially when they tried to seduce, provoked an almost immediate physical aversion in him. It was one of the reasons he avoided social events whenever possible. But this man… no. Just the light scent of simple soap and warm skin. Nothing that screamed “available omega.” Nothing that made him want to step away.
“No one has ever asked me that,” Lan Huan heard himself saying, almost as if he were used to talking to strangers. Or to someone he didn’t employ. “Certainly not so directly.”
The stranger examined the leg and the cane even more closely. Then his gaze rose to his face, to his ugly scar.
Huan rarely looked at it these days, except to note that it was still there where he had last seen it, not as inflamed and furious anymore, perhaps, but still very apparent. It hadn’t faded, as an optimistic surgeon had once suggested it might over time. In any case, he preferred it to stay where it was.
There was less chance of confusion if he wore the truth about himself on his body. He didn’t know how he felt about this strange man actually looking at his injured leg, scar, and cane, but he did nothing to stop him, and finally the intelligent violet eyes met his.
A kind of electricity reverberated through him, and Lan Huan took a moment to realize it was pure desire.
“It’s just a little scary,” the man replied with a smile on his lips, his tone soft. He was teasing him, Lan Huan realized with a touch of amusement. “You’re hardly a complete invalid, right? And that cane… well. It’s not helping to hide anything. It just makes everything more… interesting.”
Lan Huan couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled at a social event, even before he’d had to endure this leg with resignation and pretend he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled, actually. But something close to a smile threatened to curve the corners of his mouth, and, even more surprisingly, for a moment he considered giving in to the urge to smile.
“I was in the army,” he said, watching him nod and narrow those beautiful eyes, as if fitting him into some category in his head. Lan Huan wondered which one. Then wondered why he cared. “There was an ambush and an explosion. The right leg never fully recovered. The cane is… permanent.”
He hated himself for it, for such a simple description of something that should never be explained in a short sentence. As if the words could do justice to the horror, the pain. The sudden bright light, the deafening noise. His friends, some lucky enough to die instantly. Others, not so lucky. And Lan Huan, the least lucky of all, with the long agonizing nightmare of survival.
No wonder he no longer looked at himself in the mirror. There were too many ghosts.
He didn’t want to give any more details, so he shouldn’t have felt disappointed that the other man didn’t ask. But he also hadn’t walked away, and Huan discovered that, contrary to all his usual instincts when it came to beautiful men at tedious social events, he didn’t want him to.
“I’m Yu Wanyin,” he introduced himself and offered his hand, still smiling, as if he talked to broken men every day and found it completely ordinary. But then, Lan Huan reminded himself, he could only see the surface. He had no idea what was underneath. “Brother of Yanli, the lovely future bride.”
Wanyin, he repeated in his head, in a way he would have found horribly sentimental if the man hadn’t been standing right in front of him, with that teasing smile still on his lips, the violet eyes challenging him. Challenging him.
He had a strange feeling in that moment. As if, despite everything, maybe he was alive after all, like everyone else. And that same intense desire seemed to move through his being, leaving him on fire.
“Lan Huan,” he said, and then, more formally: “Seventh Earl of Gusu Lan. Distant relative… very distant from the Jins, through some noble ancestor.”
He took Wanyin’s hand and, yielding to the desire he didn’t understand and didn’t want to analyze, squeezed it without much force.
Something pulsed between them when their skin touched, and for a moment it was as if the Golden Palace had disappeared, as if there was nothing around them except this.
Heat. Light. Sex.
Impossible, Lan Huan thought abruptly.
He let go, the opposite of what he wanted to do. Wanyin’s smile was so radiant that he couldn’t look away. He was so beautiful and looking at him as if he were the man he should have been. The man he had pretended to be before the accident.
As if he weren’t ruined.
Maybe he was blind, Lan Huan thought with irony.
“Lan Huan,” Wanyin repeated, as if tasting the name in his mouth. “Seventh Earl… On top of all the pomp I assume comes with it? A mansion and an education at elite universities, with occasional appearances in society magazines to whet the appetite of the commoners from time to time?”
Huan liked him. That was revolutionary, but true.
“I have responsibilities and little time for the media.”
“So that means yes to the mansion, the elite education, and all the rest,” Wanyin murmured, still teasing him. “And I imagine you’re also filthy rich. Wealth usually goes hand in hand with nobility, doesn’t it? A small compensation for all the responsibilities of the title?”
Lan Huan didn’t deny it, and he laughed, as if he had said something wonderful.
“I don’t know if I’m filthy rich.” Huan wondered why he didn’t find the subject abominable, the way he should. In any other circumstance he would have, and the reason he didn’t now was staring straight at him with expressive violet eyes. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to see if he was real. “But I’d say there are several centuries’ worth of filth. Certainly enough filth for anyone.”
He laughed again, and Huan became a stranger to himself in that moment, when he even contemplated joining in the laughter. Impossible, he thought again.
“Today is your lucky day, Lan Huan,” Wanyin murmured, leaning closer and tapping his champagne glass against his chest.
He felt the touch like a caress. Wanyin looked at him, and something mysterious shone on the handsome face, something like suffering, then disappeared again.
“As it happens, I’m interviewing candidates for the position of rich husband, and you have the qualifications to apply.”
And suddenly everything made sense.
That, Huan thought, stiffening inside, he understood perfectly.
“You want to marry a rich man,” he said, his voice cold, as if confirming something he already knew about him.
Wanyin wished he could tell what he thought of that, or of the blunt way of stating his intentions. But it was impossible to read Lan Huan’s expression.
It was also hard to believe he had actually said that. So boldly.
But this was the plan. The only plan, and Wanyin had no choice but to follow it, because as humiliating as the moment was, and as much as he hated himself for it, there was no way to pay his mother’s debts. There was no way out.
But while that powerful alpha stared at him with cold, light eyes, he wanted to be someone else more than anything he had ever wanted in his life.
Good luck with that, he thought ironically and continued.
“I do,” he answered, and suppressed the part of him that wanted to drown in shame.
“You’re a smart boy,” his mother used to say, pretending to praise him when she was really praising herself, because he looked so much like her.
He gestured with the champagne glass to indicate the hall around them and the party that continued, though he didn’t look away from his eyes.
“And that’s what I’m going to do.”
Yu Wanyin watched a kind of silent storm in the light eyes and found he could barely breathe. That man was not what he had imagined when he confronted himself with visions of a rich husband to solve all his problems. Just as he hadn’t imagined he would feel something like an electric shock running through him when the man touched him. What was that?
“And why do you need a rich husband?” the alpha asked, his voice even lower than before. And faintly condemning. Or maybe Wanyin was hearing the echo of his own shame.
Wanyin smiled ironically. Then shrugged. “A better question is: who doesn’t need a rich husband if they have the choice?”
“You seem to be making your own choice, instead of waiting for one to be presented to you,” Huan said in that deep voice that seemed to flood him with heat. “You’re very bold.”
“I’m extremely practical.”
“You would have to be,” Huan agreed, “if you intend to choose a husband in such a cold and calculating way.”
“Is that a criticism?” Wanyin asked and didn’t wait for an answer. “I know what I want and I’m willing to fight for it. I believe that when a person shows that kind of determination, the universe applauds and conspires in their favor.”
Huan’s frown almost seemed to turn into a smile. Or it would have if he allowed it. The light eyes shone, liking that, Wanyin was sure.
“You’re a beautiful man,” Huan said, but the tone of voice left doubt as to whether that was a compliment. “And of course you’re aware of it. Anyone would have to be dead not to notice that you’re spectacular.”
“Thank you,” Wanyin murmured dryly now. “This must be what it feels like to be at a horse show. There weren’t many thoroughbreds on the streets of Sichuan the last time I left my apartment.”
His apartment was in a rundown area, still, it was the home he had created for himself. The only one that had truly been his.
“It seems to me you could simply captivate the man of your choice the normal way, without making indelicate pronouncements about marrying for money.” A dark eyebrow arched challengingly. “I think you’ll find that your kind of beauty, used with a certain clarity of purpose, is the currency on which many marriages rest. Although the parties involved generally don’t talk about it.”
This time he wasn’t pretending he wasn’t criticizing him. He was. In that polite, aristocratic way, praising him to remind him of his place. His kind of beauty. What arrogance. Yu Wanyin made a face.
“I’m many things, Lan Huan,” he said, unable to avoid the mocking tone, but equally unable not to smile, as if he were somehow enjoying this. Was he? Certainly not. “Indelicate, for example. Quite common, but never a liar.”
“So what are your requirements?” he asked after a moment. “For the perfect husband?”
“He needs to be very, very rich, and willing to share that wealth,” Wanyin replied bluntly. “That’s the main thing, and of course non-negotiable.” He bit his lip, as if checking items off a mental list. “And it would be lovely if he were handsome and charming too.”
“A pity,” Huan murmured, that threatening tone in his voice again. “You’re wasting your time with me. Or have you blocked the scar and the cane from your mind out of pure horror at looking at them for so long?”
“It was the conversation about your filthy money, of course,” Wanyin replied, returning to the teasing tone from before. Because he had the sudden impression that whatever he said now could make all the difference. He felt it deep down. “I haven’t seen clearly since you mentioned your wealth. And depending on the size of that wealth, maybe I’ll never see clearly again.”
“I am very rich,” Lan Huan said, the masculine confidence evident in his deep, aristocratic voice.
“Is that an offer?” Wanyin asked, flirting. Playing with that crazy idea that seemed less impossible by the second.
Why not?
Again, Lan Huan’s lips curved into what looked like a smile but wasn’t.
“Why do you need money so badly that you’d marry a stranger instead of simply finding a well-paying career?” He studied Wanyin’s face as if trying to read his intentions. Wanyin feared he might succeed. That he might see the history of temporary gigs that led nowhere, a history that depended entirely on his appearance. What career was there for Betas like him? “What do you plan to do with it?”
“Count the big piles. Isn’t that what rich people do?”
“Only part of the time.” Was that a joke? It was interesting how much Wanyin wanted it to be. “But it’s an exercise that ends.”
“Ends when?” he asked, smiling. “In five years? Ten?”
“Thirty, at most.”
Wanyin saw the gleam in the depths of the light eyes and wondered if that was his version of laughter. He felt a strange tightness in his chest.
He studied him for a moment, then decided to be honest. No false advertising, he reminded himself. Start as you planned.
“Actually,” he confessed, leaning closer as if to share some indecent gossip instead of just embarrassing, “I have some debts.”
“Some?” Huan arched an eyebrow while seeming to look into his soul.
“A large debt,” Wanyin corrected with a tense smile. “An impossible amount, to be honest. Do they still have debtor’s prison in this country?”
“Not since the last century,” Lan Huan said dryly. “I think you’re safe.”
“From debtor’s prison, maybe,” he said sadly. He was only partly faking the sadness. “But not from the terrifying interest.”
The alpha’s gaze swept over him again. Assessing. Once more, Wanyin felt like he was at a horse show. He had the insane urge to bare his teeth at him, but held back at the last second.
“How do you imagine a marriage based on a transaction like this would work?” Huan asked as if he were considering the possibility. Was he? Wanyin wondered with a mix of fear and excitement. “For example, what would you give in return?”
“My spectacular beauty, of course,” he replied in that same trivial tone he had used before. “I’d make an excellent trophy. And everyone knows rich alphas love their trophies.”
“That’s true.” Again that arrogant expression. Powerful. He was not, Wanyin thought, a man to play with. “But as everyone knows, even the most beautiful faces lose their beauty with time, while smart investments only multiply and grow. What would you offer then?”
Yu Wanyin hadn’t anticipated this kind of conversation, he realized now. He certainly hadn’t imagined being questioned about his contribution to the marriage of convenience that was supposed to save him. Maybe because he hadn’t believed the brilliant plan, made in economy class on a flight while drinking orange juice from a plastic cup, would go this far, he admitted. Had he been fooling himself the whole time?
But no, he thought firmly. What exactly were his options? He might be enjoying this conversation with Lan Huan, Seventh Earl of Gusu Lan, but regardless of the outcome, he owed 400,000 yuan. And although it had been his unreliable mother who got him into this mess, it was unlikely Yu Ziyuan would help him out of it. Unfortunately, he knew her too well.
Yu Wanyin would have to solve this. Alone. Like everything else in his life.
“I’m charming company,” he continued, encouraged by his own panic.
He forced himself to smile as if he were perfectly at ease. As if he were used to listing his qualities for strange men, as if he were being auctioned. Which he supposed he was, actually. Not a comforting thought.
“I have an open mind and won’t mind if you have several lovers.”
Yu Wanyin was serious. He had seen that in action in the circles he moved in while modeling, hadn’t he? And those relationships seemed to work for them. Who was Wanyin to judge the way the rich conducted their lives if they claimed to be happy?
“Actually,” he continued, trying to pretend that practice didn’t make him feel dirty by association, “I’d expect it. Prerogative of a rich alpha, and all that. My family is very small, so there won’t be tedious family parties, and you don’t even have to lay eyes on them if you don’t want to.”
He thought of the noisy holidays at his stepfather’s house and all the relatives with a twinge of guilt. He thought of his older brother, determined to stand by him like a real brother. He even thought of his younger sister. But he pushed the thoughts down.
“I have a lot of opinions and enjoy a good debate,” he said, trying to think of things a Lan heir might appreciate in a husband. “But I can stay quiet without any problem if that’s your preference. I can be infinitely agreeable.”
“You’re painting a picture of yourself as some kind of puppet.”
“If by that you mean the perfect husband and companion, then I agree,” Wanyin replied sweetly. “I am.”
He studied Huan’s face once more, but saw nothing new. Nothing that told him whether he was swaying him or not. Nothing that explained why he was suddenly so determined to get this. He took a deep breath, prepared to list more of his qualities, but Huan reached out and put a finger on Wanyin’s lips to silence him.
A strange, powerful sensation ran through him. He felt the touch like flame. A flame that warmed him and made him glow too. His head spun, even after the man lowered his hand to his side.
“You can stop,” the alpha murmured almost casually. “I’ll marry you.”
Lan Huan didn’t know what he expected him to do. Jump for joy? Cry with gratitude? Naturally, Wanyin did none of those things. He just watched him for a long moment, and he had the distinct impression that he was… shocked?
While he simply wanted him. In any way he could have him. He could put his money, of which he had plenty, to healthy use, and he needed to marry anyway. He told himself it was a purely practical decision.
However, that desire pulsed inside him.
And him being a Beta… was a relief. None of those sweet pheromones that made him want to step away. Just that. Clean. Real.
Yu Wanyin kept looking, as if trying to decide something.
Maybe, Lan Huan thought, the amount of money he had wasn’t enough to blind him to the scars and the cane after all.
“Come,” Wanyin said then, handing the empty champagne glass to a passing waiter before extending his hands. He didn’t smile, though the violet eyes were shining.
“Dance with me.”
Lan Huan didn’t dance. But he also didn’t propose marriage to strangers in ballrooms, much less to a stranger who had shamelessly announced he was looking for a rich husband, any rich husband, from the sound of it.
Lan Huan held him by the waist and drew him closer, whispering, “I don’t dance, Wanyin.”
“Oh… right. We don’t need to dance then.”
Yu Wanyin was graceful, warm, and deliciously defined in his arms. He tilted his head back to look at him, and for a moment Lan Huan just studied him. So beautiful, he thought. And so surprising, when nothing had surprised him in a long time. That fact made him dangerous to him, but Huan crushed the thought with his usual brutality.
“Out of curiosity, how many other men have you proposed to tonight?” He examined Wanyin’s face. “Just asking, in case I should prepare for some kind of competition for your affections.”
“Absolutely none. You’re my only candidate.” Wanyin’s expression was almost demure, and he was fascinated by him. And by his reaction to him. “But aside from my obvious charm, which no alpha could resist, why do you want to do this?”
Lan Huan allowed himself to study him for a long moment. The intense violet eyes. The handsome face. The lush mouth at odds with the frank words that came out of it. And the dark hair, short and layered… All of it making him want to tilt his head and kiss him.
He wanted that with an intensity that staggered him.
He hadn’t allowed himself to want something in years. But he wanted Yu Wanyin.
And best of all, there was nothing hidden. It was a situation without artifice, without pretense. He was in debt. He needed money and, Huan suspected, the security of knowing there would always be more. On the other hand, Huan needed someone and didn’t have to court. A companion who didn’t want things he was incapable of giving. Things most would expect from an alpha, but not this one. Not if he bought him. He could see the monster inside him during their time together, but he would be very well paid to ignore it.
A situation without a shred of romance. Which was why Lan Huan liked it so much. And him.
“You’re the first Beta in years who’s approached me as a man, instead of out of pity,” Huan said. “More often, they don’t approach me at all. And I need to marry, after all. Better that it be with someone without expectations.”
“Ah, I have expectations,” Wanyin murmured in a soft voice. “But I feel you can meet them all. You don’t need to do anything more than give me unlimited cards to win my eternal devotion.”
In Lan Huan’s experience, few things had been so easy.
“Since you’ve been so direct, let me tell you about my expectations of you.” He pulled him closer, so close that Wanyin could do nothing but look at the scar that told the world who he was. The scar he would look at for a lifetime if this almost absurd conversation turned into reality. “You understand that I need to have heirs?”
“You important dominant alphas of the royalty always do,” Wanyin replied, the violet eyes shining as he laughed.
He raised Wanyin’s hand and held it against his chest, and understood in that moment how much he wanted this. How much he wanted him. More than he could remember wanting anything or anyone. Because it’s so convenient, he told himself. I don’t have to do anything but accept.
But deep down, Lan Huan knew the truth. He felt such an intense desire to think he could have a Beta like this, that what was inside him wouldn’t destroy him the way it had destroyed everyone he had ever loved or wanted to love. That Wanyin’s need for money would somehow protect him from his own need for him.
“You’re a beautiful man, as we agreed,” he murmured quietly, holding his gaze. “I imagine producing the next generation won’t be any sacrifice for me. But we may have more difficulty with that.” He paused for Wanyin to absorb that, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded rough to his own ears. “I’ll try to be sensitive to it.”
Was that a blush he was seeing on the golden skin of Wanyin’s neck, on his face?
“You’re very kind.”
Lan Huan felt himself stiffen when the violet eyes swept over his face again. He couldn’t decipher what he saw in those wonderful eyes, darker than before, and continued:
“I don’t like pretense. Thanks to my scars and my leg, I’m incapable of hiding from the world. And I intensely dislike it when others do.”
“I’ve never been very good at hiding things,” Wanyin said. He smiled then, in a way both tempting and challenging, making him want to know him. Discover what was going on inside that head.
You’re entering a dangerous game, Lan Huan warned himself.
“Most importantly,” Huan added, lowering his voice and feeling Wanyin tremble as if in reaction, as if he felt him buried inside him, or maybe that was just a fervent wish on his part, “I don’t have an open mind. I will mind, and a lot, if you take a lover.”
Once again, that magnetism between them made him forget where they were. Who they were. Who he was, mainly. Wanyin made him forget he was a monster, and Huan didn’t know what that meant. But he crushed, with all his strength, the seed of hope that threatened to plant itself inside him. Hope was a useless feeling. Harmful. Better to deal with reality. Hope had never brought him anything but pain.
“No lovers, then.” His rough voice indicated he was affected by that bold conversation about sex. “And here I was thinking we could have a kind of modern marriage. I’ve heard it’s in fashion these days.”
“Maybe it is,” he agreed, leading him to the side of the great hall. “But I must warn you there’s one thing I will never be, Wanyin. Modern. Just as I will never follow fashion.”
He was warning him, Wanyin realized in a sudden wave of understanding. Lan Huan had backed him against one of the tall pillars, and suddenly excitement seemed to run through his body. He was big and dangerous, and Wanyin told himself it was pure nerves causing those strange tremors. Nothing more.
“Are we agreed?” he asked softly. “Or are you going to keep grumbling until I leave and find some other more malleable rich alpha to propose to me?”
Huan’s mouth softened, and he saw that gleam of arrogance again, reminding him how powerful he was.
“Is that what I’m doing?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “Grumbling?”
Wanyin extended an arm and placed one hand on the solid chest, slowly and deliberately. He was warm to the touch.
“We’re talking about a marriage of convenience,” he murmured. “For both you and me. I don’t expect you to sweep me off my feet while quoting poetry.”
Huan’s mouth curved. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it made him absurdly happy.
“You’re so rational.” Then he took Wanyin’s hand but kept it where it was, against his own chest. Was it his heart beating so fast or was it Wanyin’s pulse? “One is tempted to think you’ve had several convenient husbands.”
“You’ll be the first,” he assured him. “But who knows? If this works out, it could be the start of a long, lucrative line of husbands. I can collect them one by one and live off their alimony until I retire.”
“That’s a truly charming scenario.” Huan’s voice was low and exciting, making him think about the need to produce heirs. And the way he looked at him, with pure ardor in the light eyes, caused a strange tightness in his chest. “But focus on the one in front of you.”
“Yes,” Wanyin agreed, aware that something was happening to him. He couldn’t look away. His hand, which Huan held against the broad chest, wanted. Wanted to touch him. “Does that mean we’re engaged? A marriage of convenience, commissioned right here in the middle of the Golden Palace?”
For a moment Huan just looked at him, the expression harder and the eyes colder, and Wanyin suddenly realized he was a stranger. A complete stranger to whom he had proposed marriage in the middle of a hall, in a city that wasn’t his, based on something that was little more than a whim. How crazy was he? How could this be anything but a disaster?
“Yes,” he answered. “We can get married as soon as you want.”
He should have chosen an older, less dangerous man, Wanyin thought in a wave of panic, someone he could manipulate with a smile. This wouldn’t be Lan Huan. He knew that with absolute certainty. If he had any sense of self-preservation, he would cancel this. Now.
But he didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t know why.
“You look terrified.”
“Not at all,” Wanyin denied, suppressing the bad omen. Given the circumstances, he needed to be practical. Tilting his head invitingly, he looked at him. “But I feel the occasion calls for something, don’t you think? Something to mark the big decision. How about a kiss?”
“A kiss.” Huan’s voice was incredulous. Rough. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Wanyin.”
He arched his eyebrows in challenge.
“Then you don’t need to be afraid of being turned into a frog,” Wanyin said sarcastically, and the light eyes became burning.
“As you wish,” he murmured, mocking him or perhaps both of them.
He removed his hand from Wanyin’s to hold his chin, as if the mouth already belonged to him even before he tasted it. Then he lowered his head and captured his lips.
It was a quick, possessive, demanding kiss that seemed to mark him with fire. A fire that melted Wanyin’s body, making him lean against him, fascinated and captivated, promising something even sweeter and more addictive… and then Huan pulled away.
Too quickly. But then he remembered where they were. Who they were.
He felt himself flush with heat under Huan’s intense gaze. He felt out of control. Exposed. He released his chin, and Wanyin leaned back against the pillar behind him, unable to stop himself from raising a trembling hand to his lips, like an innocent.
Had that really happened? Had he really kissed him like that?
Was he actually trembling?
And looking at him, Lan Huan, Seventh Earl of Gusu Lan, and his future husband, finally smiled.