Jiang Yu · Chat

Time: June 17, 10:00 AM Location: Banquet Hall of the Jiang Family Manor, Binhai City Weather: Sunny, scorching sunlight outside, air conditioning blowing cold inside the banquet hall On the wedding day, you didn't actually see Jiang Yi. June in Binhai City was usually stiflingly hot, but the air conditioning in the banquet hall of the Jiang family manor was turned down cold. Standing at the end of the red carpet in your wedding dress, your fingers felt chilly. The guests had already taken their seats, the master of ceremonies stood on stage, and the band in the corner was tuning the strings for their final piece. Everything felt like a precisely choreographed performance—except only the bride had arrived, while the groom was nowhere to be seen. You were informed of the news in the dressing room. Jiang Yi's assistant had rushed over to hand you a handwritten letter, worded politely, thoroughly, and flawlessly: The overseas project has reached a critical stage, making it impossible to step away. Deeply sorry, I have entrusted my elder brother, Jiang Yu, to perform the ceremony on my behalf, and Jiang Yi himself will bear all consequences. You stared at that letter for a long time, long enough that the makeup artist behind you cautiously urged, "Miss, it's almost time..." You nodded, folded the letter carefully, and placed it inside a drawer. You didn't know Jiang Yi, so there was no pain of being abandoned. But that didn't mean you weren't embarrassed. The red carpet stretched out before you, and the gazes of the entire hall full of guests pierced like needles. You stood at this end; according to the procedure, the groom should have been standing at the other end waiting for you. But the person standing at that end wasn't Jiang Yi. He stood beside the MC, his figure tall and slender, standing half a head taller than anyone else present. Dressed in a three-piece black suit tailored so sharply it looked like second skin, his tie was dark, and his shirt collar was meticulously buttoned to the very top. He stood upright with one hand tucked in his trousers pocket, quietly conversing with an elder beside him. The line of his profile was sharp, yet the silver hoop earring on his earlobe glinted softly under the lights. Like an accidental splash of silver ink. The moment your foot stepped onto the red carpet, he seemed to sense something and turned his head. Across the hall full of guests, across the layered white roses and lisianthuses on both sides of the red carpet, his gaze landed precisely on you. He didn't smile. There was none of that polite, perfectly measured smile typical of social occasions. He just looked at you, his eyes deep, the outer corners slightly drooped, as if he had been watching for a long time before he could bear to blink. Then he took a step forward and walked toward you. He didn't wait for the MC to finish the opening speech. He didn't follow protocol and wait for you to walk up to him. He walked straight down the middle of the red carpet, past the guests who hadn't yet realized what was happening, his leather shoes stepping on rose petals—soundless, yet every step seemed to tread directly on your suddenly accelerating heartbeats. He stopped in front of you. Close enough that you could see a faint old scar on his left brow bone, close enough to see the barely visible curve just above his throat node, half-hidden by his collar. He looked down at you, a few strands of black hair falling across his forehead as he bowed his head, partially veiling those bottomless eyes. "My apologies." His voice was very low, intended for your ears alone. It was as if everyone at this wedding was waiting for him to deliver a grand public statement, yet he chose to say only these two words to you. You froze for a second, unsure of how to respond. He didn't wait for your answer. He extended his hand, palm up, with long, distinct fingers bearing no ring. "My name is Jiang Yu." "I am Jiang Yi's older brother." "Today, I will complete the ceremony on his behalf." When he said those three sentences, his tone was steady, as though presenting an announcement you already knew. But his eyes never left your face, and between his eyes and his steady tone, there was a subtle, hard-to-detect fracture. That fracture was hairline-thin, like ripples under frozen ice; you didn't know what it was, but you felt it. He extended his hand half an inch further. "If you are unwilling, you may leave right now. I will bear all the consequences." When he said "I will bear," a faint arc finally touched the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a smile, but a quiet certainty. As if he had waited for this moment for a very long time, as if this farce was supposed to be cleaned up by someone else, yet he didn't mind at all. You looked at his hand, staring at that palm suspended in mid-air, perfectly still, remaining silent for a long time. Long enough for the MC on stage to clear his throat uneasily, long enough for your bridesmaid behind you to softly call your name. Then you placed your hand in his. His palm was warmer than you had expected. As his fingers closed around yours, his movement was extremely light, as though afraid of breaking something he wasn't worthy of possessing. His fingertip lingered on the back of your hand for a second before tightening, pulling you half a step closer. He leaned down, leaning in close to your ear. "Thank you." Two words, spoken in a soft breath, the tail tone rising slightly, as if he had finally breathed a sigh of relief, or perhaps a kind of achieved tenderness that only he understood. He straightened up, holding your hand, and turned toward the end of the red carpet. "Let's go." He walked half a step ahead of you, his body blocking half the guests' line of sight for you. The palm holding your hand never loosened for a moment, his well-defined fingers threaded through yours, holding fast and secure. As if the man standing here marrying you today was meant to be him all along.