Chapter 66: His Wife
Ten days after Hanchuan told Zhiyi she was marrying him, five hundred people stood to watch it happen.
Zhiyi waited beyond the closed ballroom doors while the music continued on the other side. The sound reached her through the wood as a controlled vibration rather than the full performance of the string orchestra positioned inside.
The doors prevented her from seeing the guests.
They didn’t prevent her from calculating them.
Five hundred guests occupied fifty tables. Thirty reporters had been admitted to the ballroom, while another eighty-three remained in the designated press area outside the hotel. Jingwei’s security plan required sixty-four employees inside the building and another forty positioned around the entrances, underground parking and surrounding streets.
The live broadcast had already begun.
The final confirmed audience count was unavailable.
Zhiyi looked down at her dress.
Zeyu had rejected fourteen gowns before selecting one with a fitted bodice, long skirt and enough structure that she didn’t need to monitor whether every movement altered its position. The fabric contained no loose beading near her arms, and the train attached at the waist so it could be removed immediately after the ceremony.
The bruises beneath her sleeves had faded to pale yellow.
Qinghe had checked them before taking his position beside Hanchuan. Shichen had personally inspected the path between the doors and the front of the ballroom. Jingwei had removed every person not included on the final security list.
Zeyu had spent twenty minutes arguing with a stylist about Zhiyi’s hair before leaving to join the other groomsmen.
Everyone had completed their assigned task.
Zhiyi’s task was to walk thirty-two meters.
The doors opened.
Light entered first.
Hundreds of lights reflected against the pale floor, the glass above the chandeliers and the cameras positioned beyond the final row of guests. Flowers formed low arrangements along the aisle, leaving the route unobstructed exactly as Shichen promised.
Every person in the ballroom turned toward her.
Zhiyi stopped breathing.
Thirty-two meters remained.
At an ordinary walking speed, she could reach Hanchuan in less than twenty-five seconds. The train would reduce her pace. So would the requirement to avoid looking down, according to the woman who had spent the morning teaching her how to walk through a room while wearing it.
The cameras began flashing.
Too many variables arrived at once. Her hands, her steps, the position of the skirt, the guests, the music and the possibility that she would reach the front before the correct point in the ceremony all demanded attention without establishing which one came first.
Then Hanchuan moved.
He left the place waiting for him at the front of the ballroom and walked down the aisle.
The guests reacted. A low sound moved through the room, followed by another rapid burst of camera flashes, but Hanchuan didn’t look toward any of them.
His four groomsmen remained behind him.
Jingwei stood at the far left, cold and motionless despite the number of strangers surrounding them. Zeyu’s smile suggested Hanchuan’s refusal to wait at the front had surprised no one. Shichen glanced toward the musicians and signaled them to continue rather than allowing the ceremony to stall. Qinghe watched Zhiyi’s face until Hanchuan reached her.
Hanchuan stopped directly in front of her.
"You moved," she said.
"I did."
"You’re supposed to wait at the front."
"I waited ten years. That was enough."
The answer removed the ballroom.
For several seconds, Zhiyi saw only him.
Hanchuan offered his hand. He didn’t reach for hers or assume the contact, even though she had already agreed to marry him and crossed half the hotel wearing the evidence.
Zhiyi placed her hand in his.
His fingers closed around hers.
The first step became obvious after that.
Hanchuan turned beside her and adjusted his pace to the dress. He didn’t lead her toward the front or expect her to follow behind him. They crossed the thirty-two meters together while five hundred guests and cameras around the world recorded exactly what he wanted them to see.
Pei Hanchuan wasn’t receiving a bride someone else had delivered to him.
He had gone to get his wife.
The ceremony resumed after they reached the front.
Zhiyi heard the officiant welcome the guests and speak about commitment, partnership and the future Hanchuan and Zhiyi intended to build together. Most of the words were intended for the people watching rather than the two people standing before him.
Hanchuan and Zhiyi had already built a future once.
It lasted seven years.
Then they died inside it.
The officiant turned toward Hanchuan when it was time for the vows.
Hanchuan kept both of Zhiyi’s hands inside his. His prepared statement had been reviewed by legal, the wedding coordinator and someone responsible for ensuring the live broadcast didn’t contain anything likely to affect Pei Holdings.
He ignored it.
"I found you when I had nothing left to offer," he said. "I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t protect you, give you a safe home or promise that either of us would survive another day."
No one in the ballroom understood that he was describing something that had already happened.
Zhiyi did.
"You stayed anyway. You shared everything you had, trusted me with every decision and gave me seven years I wouldn’t have survived without you."
His thumbs moved slowly across her knuckles.
"This time, I have more to give you. I will provide for you, listen when you tell me something is wrong and never ask you to make yourself smaller so I can feel more important. My home, my name and everything I build belong to you."
Hanchuan smiled.
"I was yours before anyone here knew your name. Today, I’m making sure they know mine belongs to you too."
The ballroom remained silent after he finished.
The officiant looked toward Zhiyi.
She had prepared her vows because the ceremony schedule identified a specific place where they were required. Zeyu suggested making them romantic. Shichen told her accuracy mattered more. Qinghe advised her to say what she wanted Hanchuan to understand instead of trying to satisfy the audience.
Zhiyi looked at the man holding her hands.
"I chose you when there was no law, no ceremony and no one left to witness it," she said. "I chose you when neither of us could promise that we would survive."
Hanchuan’s fingers tightened around hers.
"You weren’t able to give me a house, but you gave me a place where I belonged. You couldn’t walk, but you never prevented me from moving. When I couldn’t finish a thought, you gave me the first step and waited for me to find the rest."
The words became easier once she stopped accounting for the people listening.
"I already stayed with you until death. I will do it again."
Something changed in Hanchuan’s face.
Zhiyi recognized it this time.
He was crying.
Only slightly. The moisture gathered in his eyes without falling, but the response still met every physical requirement.
She lifted one hand and touched beneath his eye.
"You told me I would ugly cry," he murmured.
"That hasn’t happened yet."
Zeyu made a sound behind him that was quickly covered by a cough.
The officiant gave them the rings before the conversation moved farther away from the approved ceremony.
Hanchuan slid the wedding band beside the ring he had placed on Zhiyi’s finger in the warehouse. Zhiyi placed his ring on the correct hand after checking the orientation once.
When the officiant declared them husband and wife, Hanchuan didn’t wait for permission to kiss her.
His hand moved to the back of her head while the other settled around her waist. He drew her against him carefully, giving her enough time to recognize every point of contact before his mouth covered hers.
The guests stood again.
Applause filled the ballroom, followed by the music and enough camera flashes to turn the room white behind Zhiyi’s closed eyes.
Hanchuan continued kissing her until the officiant quietly reminded him that the reception still had a schedule.
He didn’t appear concerned.
The public ceremony accomplished exactly what Hanchuan intended. Before they reached the reception, photographs of him walking down the aisle to meet Zhiyi had spread across international news sites. Clips of his vows appeared beside headlines announcing that the country’s most eligible bachelor was officially married.
The reception produced a different collection of photographs.
Hanchuan carried Zhiyi’s plate because the skirt made balancing it inconvenient. He replaced the champagne at her place with water, moved her chair away from the speaker and interrupted the chairman of an international bank because Zhiyi mentioned that she wanted to try the chocolate cake before it was removed.
One reporter photographed him kneeling beside her chair to detach the train from her dress.
The accompanying article described Pei Hanchuan as becoming his wife’s personal attendant less than an hour after the ceremony.
Zeyu showed him the headline.
Hanchuan looked at Zhiyi, then returned the phone. "It’s accurate."
By the time they left the hotel, there was no part of the world where Qiao Zhiyi could reasonably be described as Pei Hanchuan’s secret.
She was his wife.
Thirteen days remained.