Volume One Chapter One Fleeing the Marriage

Night had fallen, and a torrential downpour raged, thunder splitting the sky with blinding flashes every so often.

At the Marriott International Hotel in the capital, a figure leaped from the second floor.

Barefoot, Wen Xuyu ran wildly through the rain-soaked night. Her once-pale feet were now streaked with blood, pain stabbing at her ankles, but she did not care. Rain lashed her face, blurring her vision. The white wedding gown clung to her, soaked through, outlining her graceful figure, its sweeping train trailing in the mud, now stained black.

She had no idea how long she had been running. Her legs felt as heavy as lead, and every breath tasted of rain and blood.

Behind her, the roar of an engine cut through the storm, the glare of headlights piercing the darkness, drawing ever closer.

Her heart pounded so fiercely she feared it might burst from her chest. She knew she could not stop; if she were caught, a fate worse than death awaited her.

“Stop!”

“Miss Wen, don’t run!” The shouts from behind grew nearer.

Summoning the last of her strength, Wen Xuyu darted into a narrow alley, crouching behind an abandoned trash bin. She drew her knees to her chest, arms hugging herself tightly, her eyes hollow with despair.

At twenty-one, the Wen family had found her, claiming she was their long-lost daughter and demanding she return with them. Her family desperately needed money for treatment, so she agreed. Only after she returned did she discover the Wen family already had a cherished daughter, Wen Qianxue.

She hadn’t minded at first, focused only on the Wen family’s promise to pay her parents’ medical bills. But Wen Qianxue relentlessly targeted her, making trouble at every turn, until the entire family grew to despise her.

Last month, the Wen family’s finances hit a snag. Suddenly, the Lu family from the capital arrived with a marriage proposal, offering investment in exchange for the Wen family’s daughter’s hand.

Rumor had it that the third young master of the Lu family was violent, ugly, and perverse; his two previous fiancées had met grim ends.

Wen Qianxue, frail since childhood and deeply in love with her childhood sweetheart Xu Zeyan, would never be sent to suffer such a fate. Naturally, the family handed the matter to her.

She knew the Wen family cared nothing for her life or death, seeing her only as a burden and a disgrace, squeezing her for every last ounce of value.

So now, she could only run—run with everything she had.

“Strange. Where did she go?”

“Split up and search. If you come back empty-handed, don’t bother returning at all!”

“Yes, sir!”

Trained voices seemed to brush right past her. Wen Xuyu held her breath, not daring to make a sound.

In moments, her ankle had swollen painfully. Even the slightest movement was agony.

Footsteps sounded at the alley’s entrance. A shadow stood not far off, peering inside.

The place was filthy, reeking faintly of rot. Wen Xuyu prayed silently for the intruder to leave.

Whether her prayers were answered or the person simply didn’t want to venture in, the footsteps faded away.

Relief shuddered through her. She exhaled softly.

Her phone vibrated silently in her hand—a single message appeared.

[Xuyu, I’ve picked up your parents.]

She sighed in relief, replying with a single word: “Good.”

The rain was intensifying; she could not remain here.

Bracing herself against the wall, Wen Xuyu tried to stand.

Suddenly, footsteps returned at the alley’s mouth—steady this time, not frantic.

She dropped down again, not daring to make a sound.

Had Wen Qianyu come searching personally?

…

The footsteps drew closer, inexorable. Wen Xuyu lowered her eyes, fists clenched, lips pressed tight, heart hammering as if the seconds dragged into centuries.

A tall figure loomed in the dim lamplight, his reflection rippling in the puddles.

She could make out the man’s strong legs and gleaming shoes.

He came closer still. Wen Xuyu steeled herself for a desperate struggle.

Until—

A soft chuckle sounded above her head. The man clicked his tongue, a hint of mockery in his voice.

“How pitiful you look.”

Wen Xuyu looked up sharply, meeting a pair of deep, unfathomable eyes.

He was strikingly handsome—exquisitely so. High brow, a straight, prominent nose, jawline as sharp as carved jade, eyes dark as obsidian with the faintest upward tilt, exuding an innate aristocratic air.

His lips were thin and cold, pallor like polished jade under the light. He held an umbrella, and simply standing there, he resembled a finely inked painting—aloof and breathtaking.

Objectively, this was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

“Do you like what you see?” Bian Xunzhou squatted to meet her gaze, umbrella in hand, his tone teasing but his eyes devoid of amusement.

Wen Xuyu snapped back to herself, wariness flaring. Fingers clutching her skirt, she demanded, “Who are you?”

“Truly ungrateful…”

Bian Xunzhou’s lips curled faintly, but his gaze had already fixed on the swollen lump at her ankle.

His scrutiny unsettled her. She tried to move her leg, but in the next instant, he reached out and took hold of her ankle.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, cold sweat beading on her skin.

He pressed two slender fingers against the inflamed spot, applying gentle pressure.

A strangled cry escaped her.

Anyone would feel violated by a stranger touching their ankle.

Wen Xuyu was no exception. Her eyes reddened, and she turned her head, pushing at his arm. Finding he had no intention of letting go, she slapped his arm away.

Unexpectedly, pain shot through her own arm in the exact same place.

She hesitated, mind foggy, half-leaning against him. He did not press further, but the distance between them was intimate, the masculine scent enveloping her.

“Why did you stop hitting me?” Bian Xunzhou’s hand gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

His fingers were cool, whether by intention or chance brushing her earlobe, sending a shiver through her.

His tone was mild, but beneath it lurked veiled threat.

Wen Xuyu came to her senses, realizing how close she was to him. She shifted back, confusion flickering in her eyes.

“What’s happening?” Surely she hadn’t imagined that sensation just now.

Bian Xunzhou’s gaze swept over her.

Her features were luminous and striking, brows arched like distant mountains, eyes clear and sparkling, slanting upward with a hint of natural allure. Her black hair, drenched by rain, clung to her slender neck, accentuating the delicate lines of her face—her beauty bold and captivating, like a rose in full bloom.

No wonder she was known as the “vase” of their circle.

Her slender, pale throat looked as though he could encircle it with one hand and then… snap it.

A flicker of excitement shone in his eyes, his hands almost twitching with anticipation. But—

He arched a brow, forcibly suppressing the urge, and chose to answer her question.

His reply was brief, as shocking as a sudden thunderclap.

“It’s simple. We’re linked—I feel what you feel.”

“What?” Wen Xuyu found it absurd. In the twenty-first century, who would joke about something like this?

But that sensation just now…

“You don’t believe me?” Bian Xunzhou read the doubt in her eyes.

She looked up at him, silent, but her expression said everything.

He pinched his own arm.

Wen Xuyu inhaled sharply as pain flared in her own.

“Now do you believe me?” Bian Xunzhou let go, his dark gaze lingering on the arm she’d instinctively cradled.

She opened her mouth but no words came.

She truly was feeling everything happening to a complete stranger—connected in ways she could not fathom.