The General Affairs Department of Glory Group was in complete disarray. Every other department had rushed upstairs to watch the spectacle, gloating over the chaos. The staff of the General Affairs Department loathed Han Qian with a passion. Yet, at that very moment, Han Qian was leisurely strolling through a mall with Wen Nuan, dressed in a disheveled shirt and sleepwear.
They were, without doubt, the most shabbily dressed couple in the entire mall. Yet even their attire couldn't mask the fact that they were a strikingly handsome man and beautiful woman. Wen Nuan dragged Han Qian through various brand stores, even stopping to admire Vacheron Constantin and Rolex watches—trying them on without any intention of purchase. Still, the sales staff of Glory Department Store remained impeccably polite and attentive.
Wen Nuan had clearly come looking for trouble, but the lack of drama left her somewhat disappointed—Glory was doing far better than Changxiang in that regard. Han Qian, unwilling to indulge her mischief any longer, took her upstairs to the women's section. After all, one couldn't roam the mall forever in pajamas.
Shopping, it seemed, was the best remedy for women. Wen Nuan's headache had vanished, her legs no longer ached, and she flitted from store to store like a butterfly. Han Qian's gaze landed on a white, long-sleeved fairy dress. He imagined how stunning Wen Nuan would look in it. She had tried to call him the night before while sick, but he hadn't answered—he owed her a gesture of comfort, a token of apology.
"Wen Nuan, what do you think of this dress? Haven't you always loved white?"
Wen Nuan, standing before a rack of discounted jeans, turned her head and scoffed.
"It's not me who loves white, it's you—your obsessive-compulsive self who's infatuated with it."
Still, she wandered over to him. She didn't even glance at the dress first—Wen Nuan never chose clothes based on the garment; she knew whatever she wore would look divine. Her eyes landed directly on the price tag.
¥999.
No discount.
Without hesitation, Wen Nuan abandoned the idea.
"No. I don't like it."
"I've never seen you in a dress like this. I bet it would look amazing—just try it on."
Han Qian's tone was light and teasing. Wen Nuan's eyes welled up with frustration. She knew Han Qian had only around ¥1,400 to his name—this one dress would cost him two-thirds of that. She couldn't bear it.
"I said no."
"Young lady," the shop assistant chimed in, "your boyfriend has excellent taste. Not just in clothes, but in you. You're stunning—from your figure to your aura, your looks—he's a lucky man. I can tell he's hoping to see you in this dress. And you know, fairy dresses do carry a hint of bridal elegance. I'm not saying you should buy it—but at least try it on. Just once. It won't take long, and think of it as doing your boyfriend a little favor."
"I..."
"It's just a try-on, that's all."
Wen Nuan could no longer refuse—not for the clerk's sake, but for Han Qian's. Reluctantly pouting, she took the dress and stepped into the fitting room.
Meanwhile, Han Qian busied himself browsing shoes. Eventually, he picked out a pair of canvas sneakers. Wen Nuan was tall enough; she didn't need heels, and sandals weren't suitable for mall walking.
After picking out the shoes, Han Qian slipped away and walked straight into a lingerie shop under many curious gazes. He returned shortly with a black bag in hand. Though he had never touched her, he knew Wen Nuan's body as if by instinct.
Small mangoes.
The shop assistant, her face full of admiration, brought the shoes and the black bag into the fitting room. Han Qian chatted with the other clerks, paying the bill while asking about the store's rent and location premiums.
"Han Qian…"
Wen Nuan emerged just then. The white fairy dress transformed her—elevated her beauty to an ethereal realm. Han Qian, who had seen her countless times at home, could think of only one phrase: a lotus rising from clear water.
The pleated hem veiled her graceful legs yet made her appear even taller. The cinched waist accentuated her slender figure, and the pleats at her chest artfully disguised her modest curves.
Han Qian's gaze lingered—not out of lust, but deep admiration. He smiled.
"Keep it. I knew you'd look good in anything. It's already paid for, and they don't accept returns."
At that, Wen Nuan launched herself at him—pinching and kicking—but said nothing about returning the dress. Han Qian grinned like a fool as she shoved him out of the store, whispering through clenched teeth,
"That dress was over a thousand, Han Qian!"
"Your Highness, I merely seek to atone for last night's mistake. I beg your forgiveness."
Wen Nuan puffed her cheeks in feigned anger and tugged him toward the first floor—straight to Gucci. Han Qian tilted his head at her, shaking it vigorously. Wen Nuan sneered,
"You've got less than ¥300 left. No way you're buying anything here. But let's go in and mess with the sales clerks. Let's see if Glory's staff are always this professional."
So it was a test. Han Qian let out a sigh of relief and followed her in.
Inside, Wen Nuan left him behind, wandering gracefully among the suits, occasionally holding one up to Han Qian for comparison.
Plaid? Too flashy.
Black? Too severe.
White… no. Far too handsome. Not safe.
She didn't know where that thought came from. White was simply off the table.
Gray—perfect.
Wen Nuan pointed at a gray suit, then at Han Qian. As if on cue, the attendants whisked him into the fitting room. She also picked out a simple white shirt—the cheapest option, yet still pricier than her own dress.
Han Qian dressed quickly, fixing his hair on the way out. He tapped Wen Nuan on the shoulder, frowning.
"Why are we trying suits now? Didn't the clerk say—"
"Shut it."
She stepped back to appraise him—one hand to her chest, the other cupping her chin.
Excellent.
The gray suit lent him a composed, refined air. His broad shoulders, upright posture, and cropped hair made him look like a suave outlaw in a three-piece suit.
Handsome. Mature.
Wen Nuan offered no compliment. Instead, she raised a silencing finger and headed to the counter, stealthily pulling a black card from the bag and handing it to the clerk behind her back.
Transaction successful.
Wen Nuan turned and grinned like a sly fox.
"Han Qian, you owe me ¥403,000. Good luck paying it off. Farewell, peasant!"
And she fled.
Han Qian stood rooted to the spot, stunned. Three items—¥30,000? He whispered to the clerk:
"Wait, hold on. Let me catch her—I'll exchange it for something cheaper."
The clerk ignored him. Since the moment that fairy-like woman walked in, she hadn't once asked about prices.
Wearing canvas shoes, Wen Nuan exaggerated her arm swings and giggled the entire way out. Han Qian followed, nearly in tears.
Not a single debt repaid, and now he owed ¥30,000 more?
He glanced at the receipt:
Suit: ¥28,000.
Shirt: ¥3,999.
If he stopped eating and drinking for six months, he still wouldn't afford this outfit. Face crumpling, he turned to Wen Nuan.
"Your Highness… the suit's a little snug. Can we exchange it? I promise not to return it."
"No. Your princess knows you're trying to trade down."
"It's just too expensive. It hurts my heart."
At those words, Wen Nuan stopped and turned to him. Her voice softened.
"You had less than ¥1,500, and you spent ¥1,200 on clothes and shoes for me. It wasn't much—but it was everything you had. I have ¥800,000 in my account. So what if I bought you a ¥30,000 suit? You think it's too much—I think it's nothing. Yes, you messed up last night. But I know that if I had told you I was sick on the first call, you would've dropped everything to come home. Don't drown in guilt. Don't make me feel ashamed or small. We're no longer husband and wife—we're best friends, soulmates. Why should only you have the right to buy me clothes or take care of me when I'm ill? I have that right too. Alright, I've dragged you around all morning. Time for me to go to work."
"Alright."
Just one word.