Jiang Wen stood at the entrance.
Beside her was Mr. Chen.
The representative from Hangzhou.
The man Gu Chengxiao had spent three months trying to impress.
The man who had repeatedly asked:
—When can I meet the chief designer of Wuming Studio?
Chengxiao had always answered:
—After the wedding.
Now I finally understood why.
He intended to introduce me only after I became Mrs. Gu.
Then every achievement would conveniently become part of the Gu family’s story.
The music stopped.
The host smiled.
—Now, before the vows, the groom has prepared a special presentation for the bride.
Chengxiao squeezed my hand.
—You’ll like it.
The huge screen behind us lit up.
Photographs appeared.
College.
Graduation.
Our first apartment.
My first competition.
Then images of architectural models from Wuming Studio.
The guests began applauding.
Chengxiao took the microphone.
—For six years, Nian Nian and I have built everything together.
My stomach turned.
Together?
He continued:
—After today, Wuming Studio will formally join Gu Development’s creative division.
The applause became louder.
My mother looked confused.
Mr. Chen stopped smiling.
Jiang Wen opened her briefcase.
I turned toward Chengxiao.
—Formally join?
He smiled at me.
—Surprise.
He lowered his voice.
—After we’re married, there’s no reason to keep separating yours and mine.
There it was.
The net.
The harvest.
Exactly as he had said the night before.
I smiled back.
—You’re right.
His eyes brightened.
He thought I had surrendered.
I reached for the microphone.
—Since we’re talking about Wuming Studio, I also prepared something.
Chengxiao’s smile faltered.
—What?
I looked toward the technicians.
Jiang Wen gave them a USB drive.
A new file appeared on the screen.
The first page displayed one sentence:
INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY OWNERSHIP CERTIFICATION
Below it was my name.
SU NIAN
Sole rights holder.
The applause stopped.
Chengxiao’s fingers tightened around mine.
—What is this?
I gently removed my hand.
—Something I completed at three this morning.
His face changed.
His father stood up from the front row.
—Nian Nian, what are you doing?
I ignored him.
The second page appeared.
Registration numbers.
Copyright certificates.
Design ownership records.
Every major project Wuming Studio had completed.
Every award.
Every drawing.
Every intellectual property right.
Mine.
Individually.
Not marital property.
Not Gu family property.
Not something Chengxiao could “harvest.”
Mr. Chen suddenly stood.
—Miss Su?
I looked at him.
He stared at me in disbelief.
—You’re Wuming’s chief designer?
I nodded.
—Yes.
The ballroom exploded into whispers.
Chengxiao turned pale.
—You never told me.
I almost laughed.
—You never asked.
For six years, he thought my studio was a small side business.
Something cute.
Something profitable enough to absorb after marriage.
He had never once sat down and asked what I had actually built.
Mr. Chen walked toward the stage.
—Then the West Lake cultural complex proposal…
—Designed by me.
His expression transformed.
He immediately extended his hand.
—I’ve wanted to meet you for months.
I shook it.
—Likewise.
Behind me, Chengxiao hissed:
—Su Nian.
I turned.
His smile was gone.
—What are you trying to do?
I looked at the man I had once trusted with my entire life.
—Finish the presentation.
Then I nodded toward Jiang Wen.
She connected another file.
Audio filled the ballroom.
Fang Xu’s voice came first.
“That year you arranged for someone to drug her at the bar. To this day, she still thinks it was an accident, right?”
The room became completely silent.
Chengxiao’s face turned gray.
Then his own voice followed.
“For the rest of her life, she will always think that it was me who saved her.”
My mother stood abruptly.
—What?
Chengxiao lunged toward the sound system.
Security blocked him.
The recording continued.
“If you destroy her sense of security, she will cling to you.”
Then:
“After getting married, common marital property.”
And finally:
“After investing so much, it’s time to put away the net.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
My mother covered her mouth.
Chengxiao’s mother stared at her son as if she had never seen him before.
Fang Xu, standing near the groomsmen, quietly tried to leave.
Jiang Wen pointed toward him.
—Mr. Fang, I suggest you stay.
Two police officers entered through the side doors.
Chengxiao’s head snapped toward me.
—You called the police?
—No.
I looked at Jiang Wen.
—My lawyer did.
His eyes filled with fury.
—You recorded a private conversation!
—A conversation about arranging an assault against me.
My voice remained steady.
—The legality of the evidence is something the police can evaluate.
Fang Xu started sweating.
—Chengxiao, say something!
That single sentence destroyed whatever loyalty remained between them.
Chengxiao turned on him.
—Shut up.
Too late.
Everyone had seen it.
The perfect groom.
The devoted boyfriend.
The man who had “saved” me six years earlier.
He had never been my savior.
He had manufactured my fear and then sold himself as safety.
My mother walked toward me.
Her hands were shaking.
—Nian Nian… is it true?
I nodded.
Tears filled her eyes.
She took my face between her rough palms.
—I told you he was a good man.
Her voice broke.
—I’m sorry.
I hugged her.
—Mom, you didn’t know.
Behind us, Chengxiao said:
—Su Nian, listen to me.
I turned.
He looked desperate now.
Not because he feared losing me.
Because three hundred people were watching the empire he had planned collapse in real time.
—It wasn’t as serious as it sounds.
That sentence almost made me laugh.
—You arranged for someone to make me vulnerable so you could become the person I depended on.
I looked directly into his eyes.
—How exactly should it sound?
He couldn’t answer.
His father came forward.
—Miss Su, this is a family matter. We can resolve it privately.
Mr. Chen’s expression became cold.
—It stopped being private the moment Gu Development presented Miss Su’s intellectual property as if it belonged to them.
The Gu patriarch froze.
Mr. Chen turned toward me.
—Our Hangzhou agreement will be suspended immediately until ownership is clarified.
I nodded.
—Understood.
Then he added:
—And if Wuming Studio remains independent, we would still like to negotiate directly with you.
Chengxiao stared at him.
His face finally broke.
The project he thought marriage would deliver to his family had just followed me out the door.
I removed the engagement ring.
Chengxiao’s eyes dropped toward it.
—Nian Nian.
I placed it in his palm.
—You said this cost two years of salary.
His fingers closed around it.
—Keep it.
I smiled.
—You’ll probably need to sell it for legal fees.
Someone in the crowd gasped.
I stepped down from the stage.
Chengxiao grabbed my wrist.
—Don’t go.
I looked at his hand.
He released me immediately.
Perhaps he finally understood that touching me without permission was no longer something I would tolerate.
—Six years, Su Nian.
His voice cracked.
—Were all six years meaningless to you?
I stared at him.
That question almost hurt.
Almost.
—No.
I shook my head.
—They cost me six years.
Then I walked toward my mother.
The wedding never happened.
The investigation did.
Fang Xu cooperated first.
Men like him were brave only while they believed nobody would expose them.
He provided old messages.
Payment records.
Names.
Enough to reopen what everyone had once called an “accident.”
Gu Chengxiao denied everything at first.
Then claimed it had been a stupid college prank.
Then blamed Fang Xu.
Then said he had genuinely fallen in love with me afterward.
None of those explanations changed the facts.
The criminal case took time.
The professional consequences were faster.
Mr. Chen signed the West Lake project directly with Wuming Studio three months later.
My team expanded from nine people to thirty-one.
One year later, we opened a second office in Hangzhou.
My mother stopped sewing factory uniforms.
I bought her a small house with a garden.
She planted roses everywhere.
As for the Gu family, their company survived.
But not unchanged.
Several major partners withdrew.
Chengxiao was removed from executive management while the case proceeded.
I heard he asked Jiang Wen three times if he could speak to me.
My answer was always the same.
—No.
Two years later, I saw him once outside a courthouse.
He looked thinner.
Older.
He called my name.
—Nian Nian.
I stopped.
He stared at me for a long time.
—Did you ever actually love me?
I almost felt sorry for him.
—Yes.
His eyes changed.
Then I continued:
—That was exactly why what you did worked.
Silence.
I walked away.
For years, I thought the worst night of my life had been the night someone took away my sense of safety.
I was wrong.
The real tragedy was spending six years thanking the person who had arranged it.
But the night before my wedding, Chengxiao made one mistake.
He talked too loudly about the trap he thought had already closed around me.
And by the time I walked down the aisle the next morning, I wasn’t walking toward a husband.
I was walking toward the stage where I would finally expose the hunter—and take back everything he had planned to steal
