"Chatty Sunshine Heroine × Powerful Mute Tycoon, Arranged Marriage to Love + Sweet Romance + Lighthearted Daily Life"

Sang Lu has awakened.

In the original storyline, she was the villainous sister-in-law of a wealthy family—disdaining her mute husband, colluding with greedy relatives to embezzle the family fortune, and committing every evil deed imaginable.

Her husband ignored her. Her brothers-in-law slapped her. Her ending was tragic.

“Wait… so I’m the big idiot here?”

Absolutely not.

Her dreams are simple: safety and riches!

As long as she avoids becoming everyone’s least favorite person, her dreams are within reach~

She stays up all night drafting a Survival Guide:

★ Bring her arranged-marriage husband some calming herbal tea—his insomnia might slow down her money-counting speed.

★ Catch the brother-in-law’s swinging hand mid-slap: “Try that again and I’ll knock your head into orbit!”

★ Attend a high-society gala arm-in-arm with her husband: “My husband’s voice? Oh, it lives on my lips~”

Six months later—

The arrogant second brother races over on his motorcycle: “Big Sis, scold me again, please!”The brooding third brother glares into the camera: “Anyone who messes with my sister-in-law answers to me first.”

The family patriarch, warm and blunt, shoves a stack of documents into her hands.

「Luxury resort land ×1」「Private islands ×2」「Pigeon-blood ruby jewelry ×10 sets」

Sang Lu: ???

One night—

The silent man pins her beneath him, his voice—deep and magnetic—finally breaking free, whispering words that burn her ears.

“Again.”

P.S. The male lead has selective mutism, not actual muteness—and yes, he will recover.

Chapter 1

"President Feng's family background and looks are top-tier in every way. The only pity is that he's mute."

"You poor thing, girl."

"Marrying President Feng must be eating you up inside, right?"

As the words from the person across the table settled in, Sang Lu's heart pounded wildly.

Oh my god!

This was exactly the same as the dream she had last night.

In the dream,

she discovered she was living inside a romance novel where two brothers fought over love.

She wasn't the female lead being fought over.

Nor was she the supporting female character competing with the heroine for the men.

Instead, she was the wife of the eldest brother—in other words, the wealthy matriarch of the family.

Her husband, Feng Yan, was the current CEO of Feng Corporation.

He had two younger brothers who would later fall for the same female lead, leading to a bitter rivalry over power and inheritance.

By all rights, considering seniority and capability, the position of Feng Corporation's CEO should always belong to the eldest brother, Feng Yan.

The problem? He was mute.

Even if he was the most outstanding among the three brothers, outsiders still saw him as flawed.

No prestigious family would let a mute person steer the ship.

Sang Lu came from an ordinary background.

She never imagined that a casual childhood betrothal arranged by her grandfather with his old comrade would actually come true.

In the three months since their marriage, they had barely seen each other, let alone developed any feelings.

At the end of the prophetic dream, she had become a hateful figure—

materialistic, boastful,

and especially after becoming sisters-in-law with the female lead, she constantly compared herself to her, scheming to ruin her reputation.

In the end, her schemes were exposed, and she was kicked out of the family.

Finally, Sang Lu understood.

Why had her naturally cheerful personality recently turned so bitter?

It turned out her life’s trajectory was being controlled by an invisible force called "plot,"

leading her to the miserable fate of a discarded wealthy wife despised by all.

Sang Lu sucked in a sharp breath.

If she let the plot unfold as it was, it would be terrifying.

Now that she had awakened,

she absolutely couldn’t let it happen.

After careful consideration—

She lived in a luxurious penthouse, with maids handling all chores.

Her unfamiliar husband was rich, barely spoke, handsome, and didn’t meddle in her affairs.

As long as she behaved and didn’t stir up trouble, she could live as a carefree, wealthy woman with endless money and no one to answer to.

How was this any different from winning the lottery?

Oh, wait—there was a difference.

Winning the lottery meant paying taxes.

She didn’t have to.

"Sang Lu, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?"

The woman across from her suddenly spoke up.

Sang Lu snapped out of her thoughts.

The woman opposite her was Guan Shiqing, a low-level employee in the secretary department of Feng Corporation’s executive office, whom she had recently befriended.

Guan Shiqing had taken the initiative to befriend her, and over time, they had grown close—or so Sang Lu thought.

Today, this so-called "best friend" was subtly trying to coax her into badmouthing Feng Yan.

Thanks to last night’s dream, Sang Lu already knew that under the table, Guan Shiqing was holding her phone,

ready to hit record the moment she complained about Feng Yan.

Later, the recording would be sent to Feng Yan, marking the beginning of his disdain for her.

Sang Lu stayed silent for a few seconds,

then gave Guan Shiqing a deep look.

Finally, she spoke:

"What’s wrong with being mute?"

"Mute is good, mute is great—marry a mute, no fights to debate."

"I couldn’t be more grateful to marry into the Feng family! Married life is amazing~"

Guan Shiqing froze. "…?"

This… wasn’t right.

Just moments ago, Sang Lu had looked like a resentful, bitter wife. How had she suddenly changed?

Guan Shiqing pressed, "Sang Lu, you’re so kind-hearted. You’re clearly suffering but putting on a brave face. You can tell me how you really feel—"

"It’s getting late," Sang Lu cut her off, grabbing her bag and standing up. "Feng Yan is returning to the city today. I should head back."

This was a lie.

Feng Yan was on a business trip and wouldn’t be back for three more days.

In her phone, their chat history since marriage didn’t even exceed ten messages.

They only exchanged the most essential information, like—

[Feng: 6 PM. Dinner at the main house.]

[Sang Lu: Got it.]

Or—

[Sang Lu: Shiqing invited me shopping today.]

[Feng: Okay.]

Their chat was less a conversation and more a message board.

The last message was from Feng Yan:

[Feng: Business trip. Back in three days.]

Sang Lu had never mentioned Feng Yan’s schedule to Guan Shiqing,

so using it as an excuse now wouldn’t raise suspicion.

She didn’t want to waste energy dealing with Guan Shiqing.

Right now, she just wanted to go home and sort through her chaotic thoughts after her sudden awakening.

Sang Lu pushed open the café door,

clicked her key fob toward the roadside,

and a cheerful beep-beep sounded.

An orange scooter lit up.

Sang Lu swung her leg over it with practiced ease

and merged into traffic.

Guan Shiqing watched her leave, her face twisting in disdain.

"Tch. New money can’t shake off its poverty habits."

Even after marrying into wealth, she still rode that shabby scooter.

So tacky.

Guan Shiqing’s secret crush on Feng Yan was buried deep in her heart.

She had worked tirelessly to join the executive secretary department, hoping for more chances to interact with President Feng—only to hear the news of his marriage.

If his wife had been some elite socialite, fine.

But it was Sang Lu, a nobody from an ordinary family!

Aside from her pretty face, what did she even have going for her?

Guan Shiqing thought, If even Sang Lu can marry into the elite, why can’t I?

She had schemed to befriend Sang Lu, pretending to be her best friend,

planning to lure her into insulting President Feng, then use the fallout to get closer to him herself.

Who would have thought that today, just halfway through her coffee, Sang Lu left...

Guan Shiqing gritted her teeth.

"Next time! Next time I'll definitely expose your true nature!"

...

Half an hour later.

Sang Lu arrived at Qinghe Bay.

A quiet luxury residential area in the city center—her and Feng Yan's newlywed home.

Her electric scooter rolled into the private garage, and she took off her helmet.

She didn’t have a driver’s license, nor did she want to trouble a chauffeur, so most of the time, she preferred to go out with "Orange Buddy" by her side.

"Orange Buddy" was the name she had given her scooter.

The bright orange vehicle stood out slightly next to the dozen or so luxury cars parked nearby.

But Sang Lu didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed about her humble ride.

After all, "Orange Buddy" was a limited-edition color she had queued up for ages to get.

The elevator opened directly into the house.

At the entrance, Sang Lu bent down to change into slippers and called out cheerfully,

"I'm home—"

A habit she’d picked up from watching Crayon Shin-chan as a child.

Whether anyone responded or not, she always made it a point to announce her arrival the moment she stepped inside.

Feng Yan had set rules for the live-in housekeeper: she was only to clean and cook during fixed hours. Her quarters were separate, with a different entrance, ensuring minimal interaction with the homeowners.

Just as Sang Lu expected the usual silence in response...

A sound came from the living room.

Leaning against the shoe cabinet, she peeked inside.

There, on the sofa, sat the figure of a man.

Feng Yan’s tall, upright frame was unmistakable.

The living room's cool-toned lighting spilled over his sharp, handsome features—his deep-set eyes and chiseled features, like frost-kissed marble.

Quiet, yet exuding an aura of icy detachment.

At that moment, he was calmly reading a foreign newspaper.

Hearing the noise, he lifted his gaze indifferently.

Sang Lu’s surprised expression met his eyes.

"Oh? You're home?"

She was taken aback.

Wasn’t he supposed to be on a business trip? Had he returned early?

As she hesitated over what else to say...

The man had already shifted his attention back to the newspaper without so much as a flicker of emotion, offering only a slight nod in acknowledgment.

The entranceway’s warm yellow light enveloped Sang Lu.

Under the same roof, the two of them were divided into starkly contrasting shades—one warm, one cold; one bright, one dark.

Just like their relationship.

Polar opposites.

Nothing like a married couple.

The room fell into silence again.

Only the faint rustling at the entrance could be heard—

The sound of Sang Lu pacing back and forth.

It lasted about a minute, yet she still hadn’t stepped inside.

Feng Yan couldn’t speak, but his hearing was exceptionally sharp.

His ears registered the noise, yet his eyes never strayed from the newspaper.

He felt no curiosity about Sang Lu’s actions.

Their marriage had been arranged by their elders. There was no affection between them.

They were nothing more than strangers sharing a roof.

At best, business partners.

That was all.

Fortunately, she seemed to understand this unspoken rule and never bothered him without reason.

Just as the man was thinking this...

The footsteps grew closer.

Suddenly, a head popped into his line of sight.

Sang Lu tilted hers slightly and smiled at him.

"Want to have dinner together? Today."

Chapter 2

Sang Lu admitted it.

She was taking a gamble.

In that fleeting moment, countless thoughts had flashed through her mind.

Awakening was one thing.

Whether she could escape her tragic fate was another.

What if she woke up the next day only to be controlled by the plot again?

Rather than worrying about becoming the universally disliked character in everyone’s eyes, it was better to proactively change their impressions—first by establishing basic trust with Feng Yan, communicating more, and building a positive image.

Well… but now, being silently stared down by that man with an icy expression…

It was undeniably suffocating.

His gaze felt heavy, pressing down on her until she could barely breathe.

She didn’t know how long it lasted…

Or perhaps it was only a few seconds.

The man indifferently averted his eyes.

Gave a slight nod.

Silently acquiesced.

The oppressive atmosphere vanished, and Sang Lu’s spirits instantly lifted, her face breaking into a bright smile.

"I’ll go tell Aunt Zhang—I’ll call you when it’s ready~"

Yes!

If he was willing to eat together, there was still hope for their relationship!

With light steps, Sang Lu headed toward the housekeeper’s quarters.

The man tilted his head slightly, watching her retreating figure.

Even from behind, her good mood was unmistakable.

Though his eyes were a deep, inky black, a trace of confusion flickered through them.

What was she trying to do?

The thought crossed his mind only briefly before dissipating.

Never mind. It didn’t matter.

He had no intention of wasting energy deciphering the motives behind her every action.

It was just a meal.

……

Forty minutes later.

When Sang Lu reappeared before Feng Yan, she had changed into a bright yellow loungewear set.

The man lifted his gaze.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Whether at the office or at home, he strictly adhered to a cold, solemn aesthetic.

The sudden intrusion of such a vibrant color was… jarring.

Had the person before him been an assistant or employee, he would’ve immediately issued a dress code reminder.

But Sang Lu wasn’t his subordinate.

So, he chose silence.

Completely oblivious to Feng Yan’s gaze, Sang Lu pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Now that I think about it, this might only be the second time we’ve eaten together, huh?"

"Wait—or was it the third?"

Though she phrased it as a question to Feng Yan, she didn’t even glance at him.

Half a second later, she answered herself with a clap of realization:

"Oh right, it’s the third—I almost forgot about that time at the family estate."

Feng Yan: "……"

At the dining table,

the two ate in silence.

Feng Yan picked up his food with delicate precision, chewing without a sound.

In contrast, Sang Lu’s movements were lively, her words plentiful.

When the spice hit her, she scrambled to pour herself water.

When she tasted a delicious soup, she exclaimed: "Wow, this is so good it could bring tears to your eyes~"

Throughout it all, Feng Yan didn’t spare her a single glance.

Had this been the pre-awakening Sang Lu, she would’ve interpreted his aloofness as deliberate indifference, letting resentment fester in her heart.

But now, her mental state was unnervingly healthy.

She didn’t overthink things at all.

Wasn’t it normal for someone who couldn’t speak to eat quietly?

Besides, given Feng Yan’s circumstances, if there was going to be any conversation, shouldn’t she be the one to initiate it?

With that in mind, Sang Lu mentally rehearsed what she wanted to say.

Once the meal ended and Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li had cleared the table,

she called out to Feng Yan just as he was about to leave.

"Wait a second—"

The man paused mid-movement, his cool gaze sweeping over her.

Sang Lu looked up at him with a cheerful smile:

"We don’t get many chances to talk, and since you’re home today, how about… we chat for a bit?"

The moment the words left her mouth,

Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li in the kitchen exchanged shocked glances.

Heavens.

How could the madam be so bold!?

Their hearts pounded in their chests.

The word "chat" was practically taboo—a sensitive landmine the madam had just stepped on without a second thought.

Given that the master couldn’t speak, every servant—whether at the Feng family estate or the Qinghe Bay residence—knew to maintain silence in his presence.

If words weren’t necessary, they shouldn’t be spoken.

And anything that might remind the master of his condition?

Absolutely forbidden!

The two housekeepers strained their ears, but no sound came from the living room.

They braced themselves, certain this was the calm before the storm…

In the living room,

Feng Yan’s expression was frosty.

After a long silence,

his brow creased slightly as he retrieved a small leather-bound notebook from his coat pocket.

Since he couldn’t speak, he relied on writing for communication.

Carrying a notebook and pen had long become habit.

He unscrewed the pen cap with deliberate slowness.

The nib touched paper, the scratching sound faint but clear.

A moment later, he placed the notebook on the table,

turning it toward Sang Lu.

Sang Lu leaned in to look—

and froze.

On the page, in sharp, forceful strokes, was a single word:

「Mn.」

Sang Lu: "……"

After all she’d said, she’d expected at least a few words in response.

Who knew he’d be this stingy—just one character!

He couldn’t even spare a punctuation mark!

Weren’t CEOs supposed to even cough with perfect grammar?

Someone was lying!

Though her mind was spinning with criticism, what came out of her mouth was entirely different.

"Sorry, sorry—"

So.rry.

Those two words were all too familiar to Feng Yan.

During company meetings, whenever an employee was presenting, a mere glance from him would often prompt an automatic "Sorry, Mr. Feng."

Their flustered expressions always carried an unspoken subtext: Sorry, I forgot you can’t speak—I shouldn’t have said so much in front of you.

His dark, fathomless eyes studied Sang Lu’s face.

She met his gaze—neither oppressive nor gentle—head-on.

And continued:

"—My question was pretty pointless. I guess ‘Mn’ is all you could really write, huh~"

With a light laugh, her eyes crinkling, she seemed to have a sudden idea.

"—How about this: I’ll talk, you listen, and you write down whatever you feel like answering. Sound good?"

"But seriously, how is your handwriting so good? I’m so jealous."

"I took calligraphy classes in elementary school, but only lasted a month—started strong, quit fast."

"Wish I’d stuck with it. Ugh~"

"Did you practice penmanship?"

"Ah, that doesn’t count as the first question, by the way. Hahaha."

Relaxed, Sang Lu’s chatty nature emerged in full force.

A single "Mn" from him had sparked an entire monologue.

With every sentence she spoke, the expressions of Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li in the kitchen grew more horrified.

They knew the master’s temperament—no one had ever dared be this noisy in his presence.

Feng Yan’s eyes held no warmth.

He listened impassively, then picked up his pen again with unhurried grace.

Sang Lu’s behavior today was unusual.

But they were, nominally, husband and wife.

If she had questions, he would answer.

「Yes. Practiced for some time.」

Sang Lu peered at the page and marveled:

"See, only dedicated practice gives your strokes that sharpness. My childhood teacher wasn’t lying."

Feng Yan: "……"

For her second question, Sang Lu deliberated briefly.

"How many days a month do you usually spend in the capital?"

Quickly, she added:

"(Not checking up on you, btw—just curious.)"

The man’s hand hesitated almost imperceptibly.

The unfamiliar phrasing from Sang Lu gave him pause.

His expression indifferent, he leaned back in his chair.

The pen scratched against paper once more.

No business trips recently.

As he wrote, Sang Lu stole a few discreet glances.

His lashes lowered, veiling his eyes, his jawline sharp and defined.

The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing slender, pale wrists with a cool undertone. His hand, gripping the pen, had long, well-defined knuckles and faintly visible veins, exuding a subtle sense of strength.

She was an absolute sucker for good looks—and hands.

There was no denying it.

When it came to appearance and aura, Feng Yan was flawless.

His brows carried an elegant sharpness edged with a hint of arrogance, giving him a striking, almost aggressive handsomeness. Yet his silence tempered that boldness, making it elusive—adding layers of restraint and mystery.

Sang Lu couldn’t help but wonder…

If Feng Yan weren’t mute,

what kind of dazzling brilliance would he radiate?

As if sensing her unabashed gaze, she noticed him frown slightly.

She guessed he was probably annoyed by her endless questions.

Sang Lu posed one final inquiry:

"Last question..."

Feng Yan lifted his eyes indifferently.

His expression said, Go on.

"I’m pretty talkative. Back in middle school, I’d even get called out by the teacher for chatting too much with my desk mate and end up standing in punishment. But holding back what I want to say just feels… uncomfortable, you know?" Sang Lu admitted. "So, uh… do I annoy you with all this talking?"

Yes.

That was the first thought that flashed through Feng Yan’s mind.

Knowing himself, if she kept rambling, his patience would run out in under five minutes.

Sang Lu waited for an answer, her clear, liquid eyes fixed on him.

Feng Yan glanced at her, then at the leather-bound notebook.

When his gaze shifted back, Sang Lu instinctively straightened her posture, eager to leave a good impression.

To him, the gesture carried an unwitting trace of something pitiful.

Feng Yan paused for half a second before slowly looking away.

Against his usual cold demeanor, he wrote two words—

"It’s fine."