The Media storm
2337 Words
_8:02 AM. Lu Mansion, Breakfast Room._
The war started with congee.
Steam curled off the porcelain bowl, but Su Wan couldn’t taste ginger, couldn’t taste scallion. All she tasted was ink. Secretary Zhao had laid the tablet between them like a landmine.
_#LuTingxiaoSecretMarriage_
_#WhoIsMrsLu_
_#GoldDiggerAlert_
_#TsinghuaPhDStudentMarriesBillionaire_
Four photos. All from yesterday. Her in red, clutching his arm at the mansion gates. Her collapsing against his chest, eyes closed. Her walking into First People’s Hospital at 4:12 AM, hair a mess, face bare. Her bowing to Lu Qingshan. _Yeye. Wanwan is here._
Someone had been watching since minute one.
The comments were vivisections.
_@FinanceGossip: 24 and broke. 29 and worth ¥40B. She found the cheat code to life: a dying brother._
_@BeijingInsider: My cousin works at First People’s. She sold herself for a liver. Price: one Mrs. Lu title._
_@LuCorpFan: He could have had an heiress. He chose a lab rat. Tingxiao, blink twice if you need help._
_@MoralPolice: Women like her ruin men. She’ll bleed him dry and run._
Su Wan put her chopsticks down. Porcelain clicked. Too loud.
“Eat,” Lu Tingxiao said. He hadn’t looked up from the _Financial Times_. Black suit today. Three-piece. Armor back on. The man from last night — scarred, shaking, kissing her like he was drowning — was gone.
“They’re calling me a p********e,” she said. Flat. Facts, not feelings. Tsinghua trained her for that.
“They’re calling you worse on Weibo.” Page turn. “The algorithm rewards outrage. Ignore it.”
“Your grandfather—”
“Won’t see it. The staff’s WiFi has filters. For his health.” Finally, his eyes lifted. Gray, cold, assessing. “Does it bother you, Mrs. Lu?”
Yes. It was acid in her veins. 24 years of scholarships, 24 years of _Su Wan, you’re so smart_, and now she was _Su Wan, you’re so cheap_.
“No,” she lied.
His mouth ticked. Not a smile. A tell. “Good. Because your uncle-in-law is about to make it worse.”
The door opened before Secretary Zhao could knock. He was pale. Phone in a death grip.
“Sir. Lu Zeyuan. Press conference. 10 AM. Live on Fenghuang News.” Zhao swallowed. “He says he has proof the marriage was coerced. He’s showing…he’s showing pages from your prenup, sir.”
The room dropped 10 degrees.
Su Wan’s chopsticks clattered to the bowl. “What pages?”
“Not ours,” Lu Tingxiao said instantly. Too instantly. He folded the _Financial Times_ into perfect quarters. A man folding a company before liquidation. “He has a draft. Pages 1-5. Asset disclosure. The ¥40 million clause. He doesn’t have page 17.”
Clause 9.2. _No personal questions._
Page 40. Her signature. _Su Wan._
“How?” Her voice was thin. “How does he have any of it?”
“Because my uncle has owned half the lawyers in Beijing since I was 19.” Lu Tingxiao stood. One button. Two. “Secretary Zhao. Plan A.”
“Sir, Plan A is—”
“Buy them. Every site running the hashtag. If they won’t sell by 9:30, Plan B. DDoS. I want digital blackout.”
“Lu Corp will lose ¥800 million in the next hour if we—”
“Then we’ll make ¥1.6 billion back by lunch.” He turned to Su Wan. No touch. No softness. “You. With me. Now.”
She followed. What else could she do? The tablet was still on the table, screen glowing: _@JusticeForSuWan: FREE HER #HostageBride_.
---
_9:47 AM. Lu Corporation, 88th Floor. CEO’s Office._
Lu Zeyuan filled 40 screens. Silver hair, tailored smile, no scars. The before-photo to Lu Tingxiao’s after.
“…my nephew is brilliant but unwell,” he was saying to the flashing cameras. “This marriage to Miss Su Wan — a vulnerable student — is a travesty. I have documents—” He lifted papers. Lu Corp letterhead. “—proving he leveraged her brother’s transplant to force her hand. As his only living elder, I am petitioning the board for an emergency vote. Lu Tingxiao is unfit. I will step in as interim CEO to protect our shareholders.”
The ticker under him screamed red.
_LU CORP ▲ -11.3% | ¥4.52B LOST IN 20 MIN_
_@LuCorpStock: TOLD YOU SELL_
_@BeijingLaw: This is criminal. Where are the police?_
_@TingxiaoWife: She didn’t look forced in the photos. She looked…relieved._
Su Wan couldn’t breathe. “He’s going to take your company.”
“No,” Lu Tingxiao said. He was at his desk. Not sitting. Typing. Keys clacking like gunfire. “He’s going to try. There’s a difference.”
He hit Enter.
Every screen died. One heartbeat. Two. Then they came back alive.
Not with Lu Zeyuan.
With her.
Time-stamped security footage, HD, uncut.
_02:59:13 AM. Peninsula Hotel, Private Suite._
Su Wan, alone, walking in. No guards. Jeans. Tired. She sits. Reads. _Pages 1-40_. Pen hovers. She signs. No tears. She caps the pen, stands, walks out. 03:10:47 AM.
_04:34:22 AM. First People’s Hospital, ICU 3._
Su Wan, in the same clothes, holding her brother’s hand. The machines beep. She’s talking. Smiling. She kisses his forehead. _Ge, you’ll be okay now._
_09:00:01 AM. Lu Mansion, Grandfather’s Suite._
Su Wan, in red qipao. She kneels. _Yeye. Wanwan is here._ Lu Qingshan laughs, wet eyes, takes her hands. _Good child. Good child._
No dates could be faked. No duress. Just a girl, signing. A sister, grieving. A granddaughter, bowing.
Lu Tingxiao typed again. A caption, white text on black.
_My wife. My choice. My business. Not yours. — L.T.X._
Upload.
Weibo. Douyin. Toutiao. Bilibili. Every platform Lu Zeyuan _didn’t_ own.
3 minutes: #LuTingxiaoProtectsHisWife hits #1.
5 minutes: LU CORP ▲ -11.3% → -2.1%.
8 minutes: Fenghuang News cuts Lu Zeyuan’s feed. “We are experiencing…technical difficulties.”
Lu Tingxiao turned from the screens. His face was blank. But his knuckles were white on the desk.
“There,” he said. “Fixed.”
Su Wan stared at 40 versions of herself. At his words. _My wife._
“You just declared war on your uncle,” she whispered. “For me.”
“I declared war on a liquidity threat.” Ledger-cold again. “You’re a Lu Corp asset now, Mrs. Lu. Assets get balance-sheet protection.”
“Liar.”
The word cracked out. Third time. He flinched. Third time.
“You spent ¥1 billion in 40 minutes,” she said, stepping around the desk. “You crashed half the internet. You posted me kissing my brother. That’s not asset protection. That’s…”
“Enough.” He was in front of her now. No desk. No distance. Sandalwood and rage. “You want the truth? The truth is I don’t like vultures circling what’s mine.”
“Your contract?”
“_You_.”
The word was a bullet. It landed in her sternum, right where she’d touched his scar last night.
His phone rang. Secretary Zhao, voice tight: “Sir. Grandfather. He saw the news. He’s asking for Mrs. Lu. Alone.”
Lu Tingxiao closed his eyes. One second. The mask slid back. CEO. Ice. “Rule #6, Mrs. Lu. Never make Grandfather wait.”
He walked out. Didn’t look back.
Su Wan stood alone with 40 screens, all of them playing her kissing her brother on loop.
And under it, 200 million comments now reading: _@Everyone: He didn’t buy her. He chose her._
---
_10:30 AM. Lu Mansion, Grandfather’s Suite._
Lu Qingshan wasn’t smiling today.
Oxygen tube, wheelchair, but his eyes were Lu Tingxiao’s eyes — minus 29 years, plus 60 years of war.
“Sit, Sun xifu,” he said. No _Wanwan_. No _good child_.
Lu Tingxiao moved to stand behind the chair. Guard dog. Or prisoner.
Su Wan sat. Thesis defense spine. Hands locked. “Yeye.”
“Why did you marry my grandson?” No preamble. No tea. A founder doing due diligence.
Every answer was a trap. _Money_ = gold-digger. _My brother_ = coercion. _Love_ = perjury.
She looked at Lu Qingshan’s hands. Liver-spotted. Shaking. Like her brother’s would be, if he survived.
“Because he asked,” she said. “And because I asked him first.”
Lu Qingshan’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
“He said your last wish was a good, educated wife. My mother’s last wish was ‘protect your brother.’” She met his eyes. “Two dying wishes. We used each other to grant them. That’s the truth.”
Lu Tingxiao inhaled. Silent.
“Did you love him when you signed?” Lu Qingshan asked.
“No.”
“Do you love him now?”
Su Wan glanced at Lu Tingxiao. Stone face. But the scar over his eyebrow was pulled taut.
“I’ve known him 32 hours, Yeye. I don’t know what love is yet. I know he caught me when I fell. I know he has scars he won’t explain. I know he bought the internet to stop people calling me names.” She paused. “That makes me…curious about him. Not love. Curious.”
Long silence. Then: “Tingxiao. Leave.”
“Yeye—”
“Now.”
Lu Tingxiao bowed once. To his grandfather. Then his eyes cut to Su Wan. _Careful._ The door shut.
Lu Qingshan wheeled closer. “Now, child. No Tingxiao. No contract. Why _you_?”
Su Wan’s mouth was dry. “Yeye?”
“My grandson doesn’t do wives. He does acquisitions. He does revenge. He does blood.” He leaned in. Oxygen hissing. “So why a broke PhD with a dying brother? What’s your leverage?”
The photo. 2 AM. Lab. _Your research on liver regeneration. My uncle’s biotech firm would kill for it._
“My research,” she whispered.
Lu Qingshan nodded. “There. The truth. You’re not a wife. You’re a patent. A weapon to point at Zeyuan’s throat.”
Shame burned her face. “Yes.”
“Does he know you know?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed?”
“My brother was dying.”
Lu Qingshan barked a laugh. “Good. Family first. Like me.” He reached under his blanket. Pulled out a folder. Old. Thin. “My will. Changed it at 6 AM. After I saw you bow.”
“Yeye, no—”
“10% of Lu Corporation. To Su Wan. Not Tingxiao. You.”
The air left her lungs. ¥4 billion. “I can’t—”
“You can. Because when my i***t grandson realizes he feels something, he’ll do what wounded animals do. He’ll bite. He’ll push you out to ‘protect’ you.” Lu Qingshan shoved the folder at her. “When he does, you hit him with this. You tell him you’re not an asset, Wanwan. You’re an _owner_. Owners don’t get discarded.”
“Why are you—”
“Because my wife died in a county hospital,” he snapped. “Because I was too poor to buy her medicine. I won’t watch another brilliant woman get eaten by my family.” He took her hand. His was cold. “He won’t say he needs you. Men like him don’t know how. So I will. _We need you._”
The door slammed open.
Lu Tingxiao. Face white. “What did you do?”
He saw the folder. Saw her face.
“You gave her the shares,” he said. Not a question. An accusation.
“I gave her armor,” Lu Qingshan shot back. “Against you.”
“Su Wan. Out.” Lu Tingxiao’s voice was soft. That was worst. “Now.”
She ran.
---
_12:04 PM. East Wing, Her Bedroom._
He didn’t knock. The door hit the wall.
“Did you plan this?” Lu Tingxiao was shaking. Not with rage. With something worse. “Did you cry for him? Did you—”
“I didn’t ask for it!” She threw the folder. It bounced off his chest. “He said you’d push me away! He said I’d need it to survive you!”
“Protect me?” He laughed. Broken glass. “From my uncle? From myself?”
“YES!” She was screaming now. 32 hours of rules, broken. “You think you have to buy loyalty! You think you’re only safe if you own everything! You sleep with your door open because you’re waiting for a knife!”
He went still.
“You’re not unlovable, Lu Tingxiao,” she sobbed. “You’re _terrified_. And I’m not your uncle. I’m not here to kill you.”
For a second, he looked 19. Bleeding. Alone.
“Take it,” he said, voice hollow. “Take the ¥4 billion. Take the ¥40 million. Go. Be safe. Away from me.”
Su Wan stared at him. At the scar on his eyebrow. At the boy underneath the billionaire.
She picked up the folder. Ripped it. Once. Twice. Four pieces. Eight.
“No shares,” she said, dropping the confetti. “No ¥4 billion. No leverage.”
“Why?” The word was raw.
“Because I don’t want your company.” She stepped on the paper. Ground it down. “I want you to stop looking at me like I’m a line item on your balance sheet.”
He didn’t breathe.
Then he moved.
Not CEO. Not contract. Just man.
His hands — in her hair, at her waist. His mouth — on hers. Anger. Fear. 32 hours of _don’t touch_ detonating.
Su Wan grabbed his shirt. Felt the scar through cotton. Right over his heart. She bit his lip. He groaned.
He broke it. Forehead to hers. Both panting.
“Rule #1,” he rasped. “Is ash.”
“Good,” she said. “Burn the rest.”
Lu Tingxiao’s eyes were black. And alive.
“Careful, Mrs. Lu,” he whispered. “You might win.”
Outside, Lu Corp stock went green.
Inside, Su Wan had just made her first acquisition.
And she wasn’t letting go.
- Writer
