Chapter One: Mutual Disdain

“I would rather die than marry that block of ice, Bei Mo!” Duan Fei gritted her teeth, hurling the glass of red wine against the wall. The crimson liquid splashed down like her own turbulent mood—restless and suffocating.

The marriage alliance between the Duan and Bei families was supposed to be a powerful union, a strategic business arrangement. So why did it feel like she was being thrown into a pit of fire?

She was the distinguished heiress of the Duan family, with countless suitors at her beck and call. Why should she marry a man she’d only met three times, who wore a face like a funeral mask each time?

Yet her father was resolute—this marriage would happen, no matter what.

Today was her wedding day with Bei Mo.

The banquet hall glittered with opulence, fragrant with perfume and alive with clinking glasses and whispered conversations. But to Duan Fei, it all seemed nothing but a farce.

She sat rigidly, submitting to the stylist’s ministrations, the flawless makeup concealing her inner agitation.

“The bride is here!” someone called out. Duan Fei instantly felt countless searching gazes pin her under their light, leaving her nowhere to hide.

At the end of the red carpet stood Bei Mo, his face cold as ever, as if carved from ice. He was like a beautifully crafted marionette—handsome features, upright posture, but devoid of any warmth.

The ceremony that followed was a torment for Duan Fei: exchanging rings, cutting the cake, toasting guests… Each step was like sitting on pins and needles.

Bei Mo kept his frosty demeanor throughout, as though the wedding had nothing to do with him.

When it was time to dance, Bei Mo placed a perfunctory hand at her waist, and they moved mechanically to the music.

Duan Fei could feel the chill radiating from him, fueling her own displeasure.

“Mr. Bei, could you at least pretend to be present? Anyone looking might think we’re dancing at a funeral,” she said, lips curled in a forced smile.

Bei Mo didn’t even lift his eyelids. “Miss Duan, just do what you’re supposed to do.”

Duan Fei took a deep breath, smothering her anger. Fine, Bei Mo, just you wait!

As soon as the song ended, she excused herself to the restroom, escaping his “clutches.”

Staring at her impeccably made-up reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh.

This marriage was nothing more than a transaction. Since that was the case, each would take what they needed—no one would get the better of the other.

When she returned to the hall, she immediately spotted a familiar figure—Lin Yue, her dearest friend.

“So? Still alive?” Lin Yue asked, her face full of worry.

Duan Fei gave a bitter smile. “What do you think?”

“Ah, you poor thing. But don’t worry, if that block of ice ever bullies you, I’ll be the first to take him down!” Lin Yue clenched her fists, ready to fight for her friend.

Duan Fei felt a warmth inside and couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not one to be trifled with.”

“That’s good. But…” Lin Yue leaned close, lowering her voice, “I heard…”

“Heard what?”

“There’s unrest inside Bei Group…” Before Lin Yue could finish, she saw Bei Mo approaching, his expression dark as thunder.

The next day, Duan Fei strode into Bei Group’s building in ten-centimeter heels, exuding confidence.

She had barely entered the marketing department when she ran into Zhang Qi, the department director.

“Well, if it isn’t our newly minted CEO’s wife. Here to inspect our work?” Zhang Qi’s tone was mocking, his disdain barely veiled.

Around them, employees sent her curious, whispering glances.

Duan Fei sneered inwardly but maintained a calm exterior. “Director Zhang, you’re joking. I’m just here to learn.”

Without another word, she walked straight to Bei Mo’s office.

Lisa, the secretary, gave her a fleeting, uncertain look. “Miss Duan, the CEO isn’t in right now.”

“That’s alright. I’ll wait.” Duan Fei sat gracefully on the sofa, flipping through a magazine as if oblivious to everything around her.

When Bei Mo returned and saw her sitting in his office, his brow furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was as chilly as ever, as though even speaking to her was a waste of breath.

“Waiting for you.” Duan Fei closed the magazine, stood up, and approached him. “I have an idea about the ‘Starlight’ project…”

Bei Mo was about to interrupt, but as he heard her analysis, he found her proposal not only bold but also striking at the heart of the issue—far more refined than his original plan.

He was forced to admit: this woman was no empty-headed ornament.

“Your idea isn’t bad,” Bei Mo said, his tone softening just a little. The employees nearby looked on in astonishment.

“Thank you for your approval, President Bei.” Duan Fei smiled faintly and turned to leave.

At the door, she paused, glancing back. “By the way, where is my office?”

“Madam President, your office is over here.” Lisa led Duan Fei to a tiny room in the farthest corner of the marketing department.

Pushing the door open, she found only a desk, a chair, and an old computer—the very picture of neglect.

Duan Fei looked around, her serene smile never faltering, as though she had expected nothing else.

“Thank you,” she replied, her tone even and unreadable.

Once Lisa left, Duan Fei’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold glint.

She walked to the window, gazing at the bustling crowd below, lips curving in sardonic amusement.

So Bei Group really did mean to treat her as a mere decorative vase.

Before long, the door creaked open and a few marketing employees poked their heads in to gawk.

“So that’s the CEO’s wife? Doesn’t look like anything special,” sneered a heavily made-up woman.

“Just wait. Delicate princesses like her won’t last three days before packing up and leaving,” said a third, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Duan Fei listened to their gossip, her expression calm, a quiet sneer in her heart.

She sat at her desk, turned on the computer, and began going through Bei Group’s internal materials.

These petty underlings were beneath her notice.

At noon, the marketing department held a routine meeting.

As she approached the meeting room, Zhang Qi blocked her path.

“Madam President, no need for you to attend today.” Zhang Qi’s arrogance was palpable, as if he were the true master here.

“And why not? What right do you have to bar me—a so-called ornamental hire—from this meeting?” Zhang Qi crossed his arms, eager to see her fail.

“I’m an employee of Bei Group. I have the right to attend any meeting, including your board meetings,” Duan Fei replied coldly, her voice sharp and unyielding.

“You…” Zhang Qi was left speechless, his face flushed with humiliation.

“So, Director Zhang, are you planning to openly defy the company’s regulations?” Duan Fei pressed on, her tone growing more forceful.

Intimidated by her presence, Zhang Qi had no choice but to step aside.

With a cold snort, Duan Fei strode into the meeting room.

During the meeting, she quickly realized how dire the department’s performance was—a far cry from what she’d been led to believe.

She now understood that Bei Group’s internal problems were even deeper than she’d imagined.

By the end of the workday, Duan Fei returned home, hoping for a moment’s respite, only to receive a call from her father.

“Fei’er, how are you adjusting at Bei Group?” His voice was steady but tinged with concern.

“It’s alright,” Duan Fei said blandly, not wanting him to worry.

“Remember, you represent the honor of the Duan family. You must establish yourself at Bei Group—don’t let anyone look down on you!” His tone was stern, full of expectation.

After hanging up, Duan Fei gazed into the darkness outside her window, lost in thought.

She took a deep breath. Since she was already mired in this quagmire, she would spare no effort to turn everything upside down.

The next morning, while most Bei Group employees were still asleep, Duan Fei was already standing at the company’s entrance.

With a file in hand and a confident smile on her lips, she declared softly to herself:

“The ‘Starlight’ project—this one is mine.”