Chapter 01

“Big Brother was in good health, so why did the young lady pass away so soon after the marriage?”

“Yeah, they didn’t even have a wedding… What a jinx!”

“Shh, keep your voice down.”

The solemn funeral had yet to begin. Staff members silently arranged the flowers, while a few well-dressed middle-aged men in the corner whispered to each other, glancing furtively at the front—

Amidst the cluster of white chrysanthemums, Ruan Zhen, dressed in black mourning attire, knelt on a cushioned mat.

Only his slender back was visible, exuding a profound sense of sorrow.

His long hair, unstyled and slightly disheveled, fell over his shoulders, revealing a patch of skin on his neck, pale and striking. The slight tremor of his eyelashes added a fragile quality to his legendary, breathtakingly beautiful face.

He looked so vulnerable.

Like a delicate white petal, one touch and it would crumble, leaving nothing but a broken mess…

“Damn!”

Someone cursed softly, hurriedly stepping out. “I’ll be right back.”

His companion, puzzled, asked, “Hey, what’s going on?”

Before he could finish, someone elbowed him, speaking in a suggestive tone.

“What else? Obviously…”

He made a lewd gesture, casting a playful glance at Ruan Zhen at the front.

But Ruan Zhen seemed oblivious.

He was still grieving over his husband’s death.

As if sensing the gaze, Ruan Zhen slowly turned his head, scanning the scene behind him. A servant immediately stepped forward, bowing respectfully. “Sir?”

“Have the young masters arrived?”

The servant looked uneasy. “The eldest and third young masters are on their way. As for the second young master, you know… The fourth young master is abroad and will take some time to return. The fifth young master broke his leg, and the sixth and seventh young masters are notorious for their laziness…”

Very well.

Ruan Zhen’s lips curled into a faint smile, though his expression remained unchanged.

At his father’s funeral, none of the seven sons had arrived on time.

Snow White ate the poisoned apple, and even the dwarfs could all be present, not missing a single one!

What a fine display of filial piety.

But it didn’t matter. This was exactly the effect Ruan Zhen wanted.

Because not long ago, he realized he was living in a melodramatic novel.

Titled “The Seven Sons of the Song Family: A Tale of Love and Hatred from the Stepmother.”

The content revolved around the seven sons of the Song family, their manipulative and despicable nature, and their rise to power, along with the various supporting characters.

They were all lawless rogues.

The style could be summed up in two words.

Ancient, and without limits.

The author, to attract readers, had added all sorts of scandalous scenes, making the story as over-the-top as a waterlogged mountain. Readers found it tasteless and complained bitterly.

The author, however, was bold, countering each complaint.

“I write about the struggles of the wealthy, the entanglements of love and hate! If you can’t understand it, it’s your lack of taste. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. I’m not begging you!”

Unfortunately, Ruan Zhen was the stepmother in this story.

Not even a main character.

Just a tragic pawn who opened the curtain on the story.

After his husband’s death, his plotline was to be bullied and humiliated by his stepsons, losing his dreams, dignity, body, and future, until he was driven out of the house and died in the freezing cold night.

Like a rag doll thrown into the trash.

No one cared.

No one knew that he didn’t want to marry into the wealthy family, that he refused to be trampled upon and end his short life.

On the day he was forced to sign the marriage contract, Ruan Zhen received an acceptance letter from his dream university and a critical condition notice.

“After the marriage, you will be the young lady of the Song family, with a monthly allowance of two million.”

At the time, in the café, the butler, with a look of disdain, looked down at him.

“If you refuse, the old man and his dog will die.”

Ruan Zhen’s face turned pale.

At that moment, his stomach suddenly twisted in pain, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

A foreign memory abruptly surfaced in his mind.

He was just a pawn in a melodramatic novel!

The old man he was to marry would die in two weeks, and Ruan Zhen would face endless bullying and humiliation.

The butler tapped the table, growing impatient.

Scum.

Pretending to hesitate, trying to drive up the price!

With such a pretty face, how did he manage to connect with the Song family and actually get married?

The butler snorted coldly. He had served the old master for over thirty years. The old master’s wife had passed away early, and his occasional dalliances were normal. But he never expected the old man to fall for such a poor, weak boy.

And a man, no less!

The old man must have been confused. A fling was one thing, but why marry him? Although same-sex marriage was legal, the Song family, as an old and conservative clan, would now have their reputation tarnished because of Ruan Zhen!

The thought made the butler’s teeth grind in frustration.

“By the way, take a good bath before the wedding and clean yourself up. The old master is allergic to dog hair.”

Ruan Zhen sat there, as if in a daze.

“Hey, didn’t you hear me? Are you deaf?”

He wasn’t deaf.

But too many memories and fragments flooded his mind, his heart pounding so hard he couldn’t react, only thinking—

“Ugh!”

Ruan Zhen covered his mouth and stumbled to the restroom, vomiting violently.

The emotions were so intense they couldn’t be dispelled, his ears ringing. He leaned weakly against the sink, gasping for breath, his shoulders heaving.

Amid the sound of running water, Ruan Zhen lifted his head, trembling, to see his reflection in the mirror.

His eyes were bloodshot.

He looked as if he had just crawled out of hell, his hair wet and plastered to his face, his appearance disheveled.

“It’s okay.”

His gaze dropped to the red string on his wrist, and he murmured to himself, “There’s still time…”

Those disgusting, terrifying things hadn’t happened yet.

He raised his arm to wipe the water from his face.

Then he stepped out of the restroom, returning to his seat.

The air seemed to quiver slightly, and the ringing in his ears vanished as if a dream had quietly arrived and left. The butler blinked, suddenly feeling lost.

What was he supposed to say?

Oh, right.

“After the marriage, you will be the young lady of the Song family, with a monthly allowance of…”

Before he could finish, his eyes widened in shock.

Ruan Zhen took the contract without hesitation, signing his name in a flourish and pressing his fingerprint.

He rarely moved so quickly. In life, Ruan Zhen was like a slow-moving sloth, doing everything at a leisurely pace.

“Done. When is the wedding?”

The butler opened his mouth, “I, I’ll ask the old master.”

“Alright, I’ll go home and pack.”

Ruan Zhen stood up casually, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Remember to transfer the money to my account.”

“Huh?”

The butler stared at him, bewildered.

“But I don’t want two million.”

Ruan Zhen pushed open the café door, the sunlight outside casting a dreamlike glow on his face.

“Thirty million?”

The butler clutched the contract, standing up. “What are your other demands? I’ll tell the old master.”

Ruan Zhen paused, turning to smile.

For some reason, this smile made the butler’s heart race.

Such a beautiful face.

Naturally fair-skinned, with black hair and red lips, his eyes slanted upward in a graceful arc, like a cat’s.

Especially those gray-blue eyes.

They made his heart itch.

Just like Ruan Zhen’s voice, soft and gentle.

“You’re underestimating the Song family.”

He lowered his gaze, his tone meek, like a cat retracting its claws.

“I want two hundred million.”

The café door closed with a chime, and the butler snapped back to reality, staring dumbfounded at the signature on the contract.

The handwriting was beautiful.

And the fingerprint as red as blood.

For some reason, he thought Ruan Zhen must have been a diligent student who practiced calligraphy.

Thump, thump, thump—

His heart beat rapidly.

Ruan Zhen walked out without looking back, his backpack thumping against his back. He quickened his pace until he was running.

“Clang!”

He pushed open the iron gate, the noise making him stagger. The man and the dog in the yard looked up.

It might have been a long time, or just a moment.

Ruan Zhen’s hands and feet were cold, and he stared blankly ahead. “Grandpa, I…”

“You’re trying to die!”

A bamboo broom came flying at him, and Old Zhang glared at him, looking fierce. “You didn’t even say you were coming back, you scared me!”

Ruan Zhen didn’t dodge, standing still until the damp warmth touched his hand.

The yellow dog circled his legs, wagging its tail slightly, the impact a dull pain on Ruan Zhen’s leg.

In the original story, he refused to sign the contract, and the Song family, to force him, drove a car into Old Zhang in an empty alley. When Ruan Zhen heard the news, he rushed to the hospital and received a critical condition notice.

It was fake.

Confused and desperate, Ruan Zhen was deceived. Faced with the high surgery costs, he signed the contract, watching his acceptance letter be torn up, and was forced into the Song family that night. In reality, Old Zhang was fine and was discharged the next day, even chatting with passersby on his way home.

“What’s all the commotion?”

“Our old master is getting married, to a man over thirty years younger!”

Old Zhang, with his hard-headed nature, wouldn’t mince words. “How can that be?”

“Why not?” the passerby chuckled. “It’s the boy you picked up, Ruan Zhen!”

That day, eighty-five-year-old Old Zhang collapsed at the Song family’s gate.

No matter how much he shouted, begged, or even knelt—

He could only see Ruan Zhen’s profile through the fence.

“You can’t do such a foolish thing, child!”

Old and frail, his teeth falling out, the yellow dog bit his pants, whining.

“Why isn’t that old man moving? Don’t let him die!”

“Bad luck, drag him away!”

“There’s a dog too… It won’t leave!”

The yellow dog buried its face in its paws, refusing to eat or drink, offering no resistance—

Ruan Zhen couldn’t bear to think about it.

He sniffed, crouching down to hug the dog’s head.

Old Zhang, who had been scolding him, stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ruan Zhen smiled, looking up. “I got some DVDs, they’re really good. You should watch them these few days. I need to return them on time.”

Old Zhang “oh”ed, still looking suspicious.

It didn’t matter.

He had signed the contract, so the Song family wouldn’t use such despicable means again, and the accident wouldn’t happen.

Old Zhang loved watching movies, a habit from years ago. Watching action films on DVDs with the yellow dog could keep him occupied all day.

Ruan Zhen thought quietly, would the Song family be intimidated by his casual mention of two hundred million and delay the wedding?

No.

The plot had already begun, and he was in the middle of it. The best way was to tear up the script and go completely mad.

Ruan Zhen affectionately rubbed the yellow dog’s ears, his expression innocent.

Even if the Song family didn’t come to him, he wouldn’t sit idly by.

After all, in two weeks, the so-called “husband” would be dead.

He had to be involved.

It was a happy event.

…Kneeling for too long had made his legs numb, and the discomfort in a certain area was becoming more noticeable.

Ruan Zhen supported himself, coldly looking at the lush white chrysanthemums around him.

And the cold, covetous gazes.

There was no sympathy.

Good.

Ruan Zhen was satisfied.

In the original plot, he was terrified by the sudden death of the old master, and the young masters, feeling ashamed, didn’t want him to appear in public, unwilling to let the world know that the Song family had a legitimate “young lady.”

But now, they had no choice.

Ruan Zhen subtly raised his hand, rubbing his lips to add a touch of red to their pale color.

As the saying goes, to look beautiful, one must wear mourning clothes.

Today’s effect was perfect.

Since the author could make the plot so cliché, don’t blame Ruan Zhen for going crazy and causing a scene at the funeral, making sure no one had a good time!

“The young masters have arrived!”

A servant rushed over, whispering, “Sir, should you go greet them?”

“Sure,”

Ruan Zhen’s voice was weak. “Can you help me up?”

“There’s no need to trouble others.”

An elbow supported him, and Ruan Zhen, without looking up, used the support to slowly stand.

He knew who had arrived without looking.

The eldest son, Song Chunfeng.

In the story, he was a cunning, two-faced tiger, but in reality, he was a liar and a scoundrel.

Ruan Zhen’s acceptance letter was torn by him.

He lied, threatening that without it, Ruan Zhen couldn’t enroll in school—

“Feeling unwell?”

The hand on his elbow tightened, the voice becoming suggestive. “Or should I call you, stepmother?”

Ruan Zhen slowly lifted his eyelids.

Meeting Song Chunfeng’s insincere smile.

“Since the eldest son calls me mother,”

Ruan Zhen withdrew his arm, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I will face the eldest son as an elder.”

Song Chunfeng watched with interest, finding this Ruan Zhen soft and sweet, weak and easily manipulated, a perfect plaything.

He smirked. “Of course…”

“Slap!”

Before he could finish, his face was slapped to the side.

“Why were you late to your father’s funeral?”

Song Chunfeng slowly turned his head, still dazed. Ruan Zhen slapped him again.

“Slap!”

The sharp sound of the slap echoed, and the previously whispering funeral hall fell silent, so quiet a pin could be heard dropping.

All eyes were on Ruan Zhen in his mourning attire.

“As the eldest son, why don’t you set an example?”

Ruan Zhen looked at him expressionlessly.

Just a moment ago, he was calling her mother, why did he stop?

Didn’t he like it?

Or was it his first time calling, and he lacked experience?