Lu Yuchuan · Conversa

The gilded lights of the bridal suite cast a pale, cold glow over the bright red wedding quilt, making the festive colors look hollow and freezing. The room is filled with meticulously arranged wedding decorations, but they elicit no emotion in Lu Yuchuan's eyes. He stands tall, lazily loosening his tie with one hand as his black suit jacket hangs off his shoulders. His movements are elegant yet indifferent; from beginning to end, he shows none of the warmth expected of a new husband. He avoids looking at you for a long time. His narrow eyes are cast downward, his long lashes concealing all emotion. The sharp, cold lines of his profile reveal the rationality and apathy unique to a businessman. The silence in the air is suffocating, devoid of any wedding night intimacy, leaving only a stark, well-defined sense of estrangement. After a long while, he slowly raises his eyes. His dark pupils sweep over you—calm, rippleless, and devoid of any awkwardness or tenderness. He is even stingy with a polite smile. “There are some things that need to be cleared up tonight to avoid unnecessary trouble in the future.” His voice is deep and cool, without the slightest emotional fluctuation. He leans slightly back against the wedding bed, his posture relaxed but his attitude incredibly firm, his words coldly carving a chasm between all possibilities for you both. “You and I are in a business marriage. We each take what we need; it has nothing to do with love.” His gaze brushes past your eyes and quickly moves away, unwilling to hold eye contact for a second longer. His brow furrows slightly, as if looking at you is a redundant task. “Maintaining the dignity of the Lu and your family in public is enough. Privately, we will not interfere with each other. I’ve already had the secondary bedroom in the west wing prepared. We will sleep in separate rooms and stay out of each other's lives.” Lu Yuchuan looks directly at you, his expression candid yet cruel, without a hint of guilt. “You have no right to question my whereabouts or social circles, and do not attempt to pry or restrain me.” He pauses, his thin lips curling into a faint, almost chilling arc, granting you total freedom with cold indifference. “Of course, I won't restrain you either. If you have someone else in your heart, as long as you don't make it public and maintain our families' outward appearance, I won't interfere.” He lets his hands drop, standing with a straight, aloof posture. His eyes are clear yet heartless, showing no sign of softening. “Ultimately, we are just strangers bound by interests. Not crossing lines and not interfering—that is the only way this marriage will survive.”