He personally pulled out the chair for Sang Ning.
Sang Ning felt uneasy. "Are you sure this is just dinner?"
He sat down across from her, casually undoing a button on his suit jacket, his tone relaxed. "What else would it be?"
Sang Ning hesitated before nodding. "Oh."
The server brought the appetizer and, as usual, presented Sang Ning with a bouquet of roses.
"Miss Nan, these flowers are from Mr. He."
Sang Ning accepted them and glanced at He Siyu, who took a sip of water. "I bought them on a whim."
Sang Ning: "..."
She held the flowers close, inhaling their sweet fragrance.
Looking up at him, she smiled softly. "Thank you."
He tightened his grip on the glass. "As long as you like them."
The candlelight flickered on the table. Sang Ning watched the dancing flames, her fingers clutching the roses slightly tighter.
She set the flowers aside and picked up her spoon to taste the freshly served cream of mushroom soup.
"Sang Ning," he suddenly spoke.
She paused, lifting her gaze to see him retrieve a small velvet box containing a sapphire from his coat pocket and place it on the table.
His eyes, usually composed and confident, now betrayed a hint of tension as he looked at her. "Marry me."
Her fingers tightened around the spoon, her heartbeat quickening. After a stunned moment, she finally murmured, "Isn’t this... too soon?"
His dark eyes bore into hers. "I know exactly what I want. A decision like marriage doesn’t need a year."
She fell silent.
"The Nan Family won’t object to our marriage. Grandma adores you. Second Aunt tried to set me up with Lin Shuyan yesterday only because she didn’t know about us. My Dad may be old-fashioned, but if Grandma approves of you, he will too. Honestly, Grandma is even pickier than him, so you don’t need to worry about any obstacles."
He reached for her hand, as if to reassure her, his gaze unwavering. "We’ve been together for less than three months, but I’ve lived twenty-eight years, Nan Sangning. I’m fully awake and certain—I love you deeply."
Sang Ning’s chest tightened. Her lashes fluttered, and her fingers curled slightly in his grasp.
Rising, he took the ring and knelt beside her, holding her hand. "Sang Ning, marry me."
She looked down at his resolute dark eyes, feeling suffocated, her throat clogged with emotion.
Lowering his head, he slid the ring onto her finger.
Staring at the dazzling diamond now adorning her hand, she seemed lost in thought.
He stood, his tall frame casting a shadow over her, his grip on her hand firm, his gaze locked onto hers.
She rose to her feet, lips parting. "I—"
He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice strained. "It’s already December. Let’s set our wedding for next spring, alright?"
His hold was almost desperate, as if seeking reassurance.
Her hands clenched at her sides before relaxing. This time, she didn’t return the embrace.
"He Siyu."
Her voice was slow, barely audible. "Let’s break up."
His entire body stiffened.
Releasing her, his expression fractured as he stared at her. "What did you say?"
After three seconds of silence, she repeated, "Let’s break up."
His fingers dug into her arms, veins faintly visible on his forehead as he gritted out, "Why?"
She stood motionless, her gaze hollowing.
Why?
This was an excellent match. The He Family was one of Jing City’s most prestigious clans. For the granddaughter of a nouveau riche family to marry into such a household was like winning the lottery—a stroke of incredible fortune.
But what came after?
As Mrs. He, she would be barred from the Nan Family’s power struggles. No matter what, the Nan Family would never let an outsider, a married-off daughter, take control.
Of course, compared to the He Family, the Nan Family’s wealth was insignificant.
She could simply fulfill her role as Mrs. He, perhaps gaining even greater prestige and respect than she ever would in the Nan Family.
She had spent eighteen years studying the virtues of a proper lady, groomed since childhood to be the ideal matriarch. She knew better than anyone how to be the perfect noble wife.
Her Mother had been her first teacher—a woman of impeccable grace, the very model of a Xie Mansion’s matriarch.
Mother and Father had been betrothed as children, growing up together, inseparable.
In their first year of marriage, they were deeply in love.
By the second year, Father accepted a concubine gifted to him.
Mother never protested, treating the concubine with kindness, raising the illegitimate children as her own, and managing the sprawling Xie Mansion flawlessly. Everyone praised her as the epitome of virtue.
But only Sang Ning knew how Mother would sit by the window all night, sleepless, whenever Father favored the concubine.
Mother had taught her that as a future matriarch, she must be gentle, humble, and above all, patient. Lasting affection was rare—only by earning her husband’s respect and the family’s regard could she secure her place.
From a young age, she had seen her future reflected in Mother’s life.
She had accepted it.
At eight, her tutor praised her essays, saying she would have been a top scholar if born a boy.
Excited, she told Mother, "I want to take the imperial exams too, like Great-grandfather and Grandfather! I want to be a top scholar, a high-ranking official with real power!"
Mother scolded her for such wild ambitions. A proper young lady should be meek and humble, not spout such unrealistic fantasies.
She was confined for a month in a tiny room, forced to copy the virtues of womanhood a hundred times.
In that month, she buried every budding ambition deep inside, learning instead to be the perfect, demure young lady.
She mastered the arts, etiquette, and poise. By fifteen, she was hailed as the finest young lady in Yanjing, even securing a prestigious engagement to the Ning Duke’s family.
She had once resigned herself to this fate—until she was reborn.
Given a second chance at life, she vowed to live boldly, chasing power and freedom.
The title of "proper lady" had long grown tiresome!
She refused to spend her life at a man’s mercy, suppressing her desires, playing the role of the patient, virtuous wife.
She wanted authority, influence—to wear her ambition openly, unapologetically.
She would be the one in control, the one others deferred to.
This time, she wouldn’t submit to fate.
She reached for the ring on her finger—and removed it.
Meeting his gaze, her expression was clear. "I don’t want to continue this."