[Arranged Marriage to Love + The High and Mighty Bows His Head + Slow-Burn Sweet Romance + Both Inexperienced]

Song Xinya at 24: 5'7", 180 pounds.

Song Xinya at 25: 5'7", 100 pounds.

In one year, she lost 80 pounds, transforming from the girl everyone laughed at into the goddess everyone envied.

A slender waist, a perky bottom, long, alluring legs, fair skin, and beautiful features.

After sitting at the wrong table on a blind date, she entered a whirlwind marriage with Qin Yuhe, the crown prince of Beijing's elite circles.

Her new husband was famously cold, strict, picky, and abstinent.

Everyone waited for the joke, saying Song Xinya would soon be kicked out of the wealthy family.

In reality, night after night, Qin Yuhe was captivated by her, their passion blazing as he kissed her breathless...

Qin Yuhe, the crown prince of Beijing's elite circles, handsome, wealthy, with eight-pack abs, lean and powerful.

Marrying his new wife was a business arrangement; his ideal marriage was one of mutual respect and non-interference.

In bed, they were perfectly in sync, burning with passion.

Out of bed, they were polite, distant, and barely acquainted.

He caught a cold; his wife said, "Drink more hot water."

He had a headache; his wife said, "Drink more hot water."

He sprained his ankle; his wife said, "Drink more hot water."

He was away on business for a month; his wife didn't send a single message.

She gave him all the freedom he could want, yet he grew increasingly dissatisfied.

Returning from his trip, he laid down three house rules for her, requiring a daily minimum of:

Hug him twenty times.

Kiss him forty times.

Call him 'husband' eighty times.

If she failed to meet the above, a fourth house rule applied:

Thirteen times in one night!

Song Xinya was puzzled: Why all the kissing, hugging, and 'husband'-calling for a marriage of convenience?

Qin Yuhe took her icy feet and warmed them against his abs, holding them close to his chest.

"Yaya, let's not be a marriage of convenience. Let's be soulmates."

"Yaya, I want to love you properly, and I want you to love me sincerely too."

"Yaya, let's try for a baby..."

Author's Note:- It's my latest work. I don't know if it'll reach your hearts but, t, ando support me and I'll try to give you chapters...

Check out my other works too!

Chapter 1

On the double bed.

Song Xinya was enveloped by the man's tall, robust frame, her fair, tender legs gripped tightly by his scorching palms.

Their heartbeats resonated, their breaths intertwined.

Her delicate body trembled because of him.

"I'm going to kiss you."

The man leaned down over Song Xinya, his moving breath as he spoke stirring the hair by her ear, his fervent respiration washing over the tip of her nose.

Their soft, warm lips met, heart-stirring.

Song Xinya's eyelashes fluttered violently, she closed her eyes, her soft, pale arms wrapping around the man's neck.

The floor was a mess.

A black suit jacket lay atop a pink lace bra.

A torn dress, high heels rolled by the floor-to-ceiling window, a white shirt printed with red lipstick marks.

"Your first time?"

Qin Yuhe sensed Song Xinya's tension and suddenly paused.

His low, desire-soaked voice gently soothed her, "Tell me if you're uncomfortable."

His breath was against her ear, warm and tingling.

Overcome with passion, Song Xinya opened her mouth and bit the man's Adam's apple.

Her luscious lips uttered two words: "Use a condom."

Qin Yuhe's large hand, veins prominent, reached toward the nightstand and pulled out a box.

"Okay."

He was gentle, yet fierce.

The air was filled with the unique scent of sweat and hormones mingled together.

A night of intimacy.

………

When Song Xinya woke again, it was already 8 PM the next day.

She was exhausted, having lost count of how many times the man had taken her.

She had personally experienced what it meant to die and come back to life, over and over.

Song Xinya's waist ached.

Her mind felt swollen, a sensation of being intoxicated and lost in dreams, unsure of what day it was.

Pushing back the covers, as Song Xinya prepared to get out of bed, she suddenly felt a weight on her waist.

Looking down, a man's arm lay across her waist, muscles corded, skin cold and white as jade.

The scorching scenes from last night flooded her mind.

Frame by frame, scene by scene, all were fiery, intense, and indescribable.

Her heart softened, her cheeks burned.

Last night, Song Xinya had been gotten drunk by Zhang Yingying, her stepsister from different parents, and shoved into a room.

Thus, she encountered the equally intoxicated man.

All night, the curtains were drawn, the lights off, as if her eyes were blindfolded—she never saw what the man looked like.

Simultaneously, the darkness amplified her senses of touch, taste, and smell infinitely, making her unbearably sensitive.

He had given her a very good first experience.

The man was a gentleman, not only concerned with himself, taking care of her feelings throughout.

Even after his own satisfaction, he didn't just roll over and sleep, but held her tenderly for a long time.

He wiped her sweat, used a damp towel to clean every part of her body.

Exemplary bedroom etiquette.

This made Song Xinya feel respected; his gentleness and consideration offset her unease and self-doubt.

Frankly, encountering such a compatible man on her first time, Song Xinya really wanted to know what he looked like.

She turned to look beside her.

And suddenly paused again.

At this time, she was 170 cm tall and weighed 180 jin (approx. 90 kg).

The socialite circle led by her stepsister Zhang Yingying all mocked her for being fat, gave her nicknames, called her Miss Piggy.

With the lights off, all women are the same; with the lights on, the difference is stark.

She even worried that when the man woke and saw her, he would curse her for a toad having tasted swan meat.

It was just an accident anyway, no need to cling to it.

Song Xinya decided to pull up her panties (figuratively) and leave.

She lifted the man's arm pressing across her waist with both hands and gently moved it aside.

The moment her soles touched the floor, her legs felt weak as noodles, and she almost stumbled.

Song Xinya sat on the edge of the bed for a good while before her legs regained some strength.

She looked at the messy floor; her originally fine dress had been torn into several rags.

Her panties hadn't been spared either, torn in half.

Song Xinya picked up the man's white shirt and put it on, slipped on his suit jacket, then pulled on his suit pants.

She took his entire set of clothes.

Reaching the door, Song Xinya glanced back at the man on the bed.

He was facing away from her, the arm that had held her while sleeping resting outside the covers.

The man's back was exposed to the air, broad shoulders and solid frame, the lines narrowing all the way down, his lean waist disappearing under the covers.

Thinking of how she had enjoyed such excellent service from the man, Song Xinya wanted to leave him something.

She rummaged through the bag she carried.

In this era of mobile payments, she didn't have the habit of carrying cash.

She only found one coin.

It was from changing money for a claw machine game.

Song Xinya placed the coin on the table, a round, silvery-white disc, strikingly conspicuous on the vermilion tabletop.

The coin lay face up, below the national emblem pattern was printed the issue year: 2000.

Song Xinya opened the door and walked out.

Now wearing an ill-fitting men's suit, she didn't take the elevator, choosing instead the unmanned stairwell.

As she started descending, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from above.

Followed by a familiar woman's voice: "Mom, don't worry, that Miss Piggy won't get away."

Zhang Yingying walked to the elevator, phone pressed to her ear, talking to her mother Li Cuirou.

"Mom, last night I personally shoved Song Xinya into President Zhao's room. President Zhao is 180 jin, Song Xinya is also 180 jin. Those two Miss Piggies are a perfect match."

"Besides being fat, President Zhao is also bald, has bad breath, and a beer belly. When Song Xinya wakes up and finds herself defiled by such a man, she'll be so heartbroken she'll want to jump off a building."

The reality was the opposite of what Zhang Yingying imagined. Song Xinya not only didn't feel defiled, but felt she had scored.

Having personally experienced it, she clearly knew the man she spent the night with had a body better than a model's.

That man had an eight-pack; she had touched it.

That man's chest muscles were very firm; she had touched those too.

Zhang Yingying: "If Song Xinya disappears from this world, the Song family's wealth will all be ours."

Ding—, the elevator door opened, Zhang Yingying stepped in.

Looking at her reflection in the elevator wall, she said with full superiority: "I'm ten thousand times prettier than that fatso Song Xinya."

"A big fatty like Song Xinya only deserves to be with a bald, bad-breath, beer-bellied man."

"Song Xinya will never know that the reason she's so fat is because we replaced her vitamins with hormones."

The elevator doors closed, cutting off Zhang Yingying's "hahaha" laughter.

Song Xinya had a normal weight as a child, with slender limbs and a slim figure.

Ever since Li Cuirou brought Zhang Yingying into the Song household, she had started gaining weight incessantly.

Now, Song Xinya finally knew the reason.

Everyone wants to pinch a soft persimmon; no one dares to grasp a cactus.

It's everyone's first time being human; why should she have to sacrifice herself to make others happy?

If a dog bites her, she won't just bite back, she'll bite twice.

Song Xinya returned to her place and threw that bottle of fake vitamins into the trash.

She was going to lose weight!

She was going to get thin!

She was going to become beautiful!

She was going to repay everything that mother-daughter pair had inflicted on her, with interest!

There's no shortcut to weight loss: first, control your mouth; second, move your legs.

Many people know it, few people do it.

But Song Xinya did it.

She, who loved hot pot, fried chicken, barbecue, and potato chips so much, for a full year, three hundred and sixty-five days, didn't touch them once.

When hungry, drink water. When craving, slap your mouth.

Stay hungry, remain hungry, be hungry every day.

Woken by hunger in the middle of the night, hugging the quilt and sobbing, yet stubbornly resisting taking a single bite.

And every day, aerobic exercise, strength training, body sculpting.

Morning runs, fasted incline walking, swimming, cycling, squats, rowing, push-ups, planks, Pilates extensions.

One month later, Song Xinya stood on the scale: 155 pounds.

Two months later, Song Xinya stood on the scale: 143 pounds.

Three months later, Song Xinya stood on the scale: 133 pounds.

Four months later, Song Xinya stood on the scale: 125 pounds.

The closer you get to the end, the harder it is to lose.

No matter, keep going, gogogo!

She would use absolute effort to achieve an overwhelming victory!

She would make all admiring gazes and words of praise gather upon her!

She would tell the whole world she could win!

Six months later, Song Xinya stood on the scale: 114 pounds.

Nine months later, Song Xinya stood on the scale: 105 pounds.

Twelve months later, Song Xinya stood on the scale: 100 pounds!

Every overweight person is a potential winner.

This phrase fit Song Xinya perfectly.

After losing weight, her eyes seemed larger, her nose more defined, her double chin vanished, her jawline sharpened, walking felt light and effortless, and she could wear any clothes she liked.

Weight loss is the best cosmetic procedure!

All along, Song Xinya had loved the color red.

Red symbolizes passion, radiance, and boldness.

Before, she never dared to walk down the street in a full red dress, afraid of seeing mocking looks from passersby, afraid of being called an ugly duckling trying too hard.

She only dared to secretly wear a red dress in her room when no one was around.

Now, she walked down the street in a crimson dress, with a slender waist, curvy hips, long alluring legs, fair skin and beautiful features, her every movement exuding confidence.

Passersby who saw her were filled with awe in their eyes, frequently turning back for another look.

During this year of weight loss, Song Xinya had not yet met Li Cuirou and her daughter Zhang Yingying.

One day, Song Xinya received a call from Li Cuirou, the voice on the phone sounding so gentle and kind.

"Xinxin, dear, it's your mother. There's a business partner I think is quite suitable, fifty years old, only twenty-five years older than you, divorced with two kids, needs a stepmother. Go on a blind date with him. If he takes a liking to you, you could marry into wealth and become a rich lady."

"Xinxin, dear, you're not young anymore. Stop daydreaming about being noticed by some tall, rich, and handsome man. It's time to face reality. With your conditions—180-pound weight, barrel waist, elephant legs, shaped like a landmine—being considered by a divorced older man with two kids is a blessing earned from your past two lifetimes."

"Xinxin, dear, this partner is very important to me. If you can marry him, it'll bring me a lot of business. Remember to really try to please him during the date."

"The meeting is at Xundao Café, table number 9."

Song Xinya understood perfectly. This wasn't a blind date; it was about selling her off to the business partner as a stepmother.

Since this partner was so important to Li Cuirou and her daughter, don't worry, she would definitely ruin their business deal.

She got up and headed to Xundao Café.

.......

A black Rolls-Royce stopped in front of Xundao Café.

The driver and assistant in the front looked back. In the rear seat, the distinguished man had his eyes closed.

The man had dark hair and well-defined eyebrows, cold fair skin, a tall nose bridge like a mountain ridge, naturally crimson and finely-shaped lips, supremely handsome, so good-looking it was dazzling.

Qin Yuhe dreamed again of that sensual, humid night.

Snow-white thighs, suggestive gasps, hurried breathing, the broken sobs escaping her red lips, he and she lost in intense pleasure.

Again and again.

That night was an accident, yet it gave Qin Yuhe an unprecedented experience.

It was his first time.

In matters of sex, Qin Yuhe was quite conservative; if he had relations with a woman, he would take responsibility for her.

That night, no matter what he did, she was very cooperative.

They were entangled the whole night, utterly crazy, perfectly in sync.

He originally planned to talk properly with her about marriage the next day, but when he woke up, he found she had run away.

On the vermilion table, he saw the one yuan she had left behind.

One yuan?

One yuan!

Was she mocking his poor technique?

For a man, this was an insult.

Did only he think they were compatible?

He wanted to find her, to ask her face to face.

But he couldn't find her.

Because the hotel's surveillance footage from that day had been tampered with by Li Cuirou and Zhang Yingying.

Qin Yuhe had searched for that woman for an entire year, but never found her.

A sigh escaped his pale-pink lips, his long, straight eyelashes casting a delicate shadow as he opened his eyes.

The assistant, perceptive, got out of the car, walked around to the rear, bent down and opened the door, placing a hand on the roof. Qin Yuhe stepped out.

He came to Xundao Café today for a blind date.

Shortly after Qin Yuhe entered the café, a flash of red passed in front of the Rolls-Royce.

The woman's red dress was like fire, her skin white as snow, her thick, long curls gleaming with a gorgeous sheen, her charming face stunningly beautiful, effortlessly outshining all others.

Song Xinya walked into the café, going on her blind date.

Chapter 2

"Wow, look over there! A beauty, a stunning beauty, the kind that could topple cities and kingdoms!"

Inside the Rolls-Royce, the driver pointed out Song Xinya to the assistant.

The assistant looked up, his eyes trembling with the shock of witnessing a truly top-tier beauty.

"She is indeed extraordinarily beautiful!"

Having accompanied Qin Yuhe to countless high-society events, he had seen all kinds of beauties—socialites, daughters of noble families—but none were as beautiful as the woman before him.

This woman was radiant and striking, her eyes sparkling with life and charm. With every glance, there was a captivating allure. The red skirt swayed with the wind, making her entire being resemble a blazing flame in full bloom.

She was like a nine-tailed fox from "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio," bewitching and dazzling beyond compare.

Qin Yuhe was famously aloof, strict, fastidious, and ascetic.

He had been set up on blind dates with no less than eighty women, each with top-tier looks and figures, yet the CEO hadn't fancied a single one.

Some he rejected outright just upon hearing the name, without even meeting them.

So for this blind date, Old Mrs. Qin simply didn't tell Qin Yuhe which family the girl was from, forcing him to go in completely blind.

Driver: "A woman this beautiful, surely President Qin would like her, right?"

The assistant gazed at that flamboyant flash of red and replied, "President Qin doesn't like this type of woman. He prefers the gentle, reserved kind. Moreover, he dislikes the color red most of all."

The driver, a married man and someone with experience, said, "An ideal type is never about a specific category, but a feeling. If you truly meet someone who catches your eye, whether they're a turtle or a pea, you'll like them no matter the type."

Assistant: "Then let's make a bet. I bet this blind date of President Qin's will be like the leeks in the field every winter—withering one batch after another."

Driver: "I bet President Qin will succeed this time."

Having been by Qin Yuhe's side for years, the assistant was very confident in his understanding of the CEO and felt sure about this bet.

"The wager is: whoever loses pays the other ten thousand yuan. How about it, dare to bet?"

The driver trusted his experienced intuition: "Bet it is."

The two of them looked towards the inside of the coffee shop, closely monitoring the outcome of the blind date.

………

Qin Yuhe sat in booth number 6. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his sharply defined face. Dressed in a white shirt and black suit, his back straight and posture elegant, he seemed coated in a layer of golden light, handsome and dazzlingly noble.

Most people nowadays idly play on their phones when they have free time. Qin Yuhe had no such hobby; he preferred reading in his spare time.

On the table lay a book written entirely in English; its Chinese translation was titled "Wuthering Heights."

His long, elegant fingers turned the pages, and a line of English leaped into his view—

"Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you."

In Chinese, it meant—

"Do not leave me in this hell without you."

A world without Catherine was a living hell for Heathcliff.

Qin Yuhe had never been in love before, nor had he ever fallen for any woman.

He was skeptical of the intense, flame-like, and fierce love that the male protagonist, Heathcliff, felt for the heroine, Catherine, in the book.

Could a man really feel such profound love for a woman?

The current Qin Yuhe believed not.

Due to his complex personal history and family background, the education he received from childhood was: a man should prioritize career and family honor; indulging in romantic love is irresponsible.

In their circle, most marriages were arranged alliances.

Reinforcing class status, solidifying social capital, complementing resources, expanding social circles, and preserving family honor through marriage—this was the meaning of his existence.

Qin Yuhe's gaze rose from that line of text and landed on a coin, the reverse side facing up. Below the national emblem design was the minting year: 2000.

Left behind by the woman who had slept with him.

He didn't usually use bookmarks; he used this coin as a marker, carrying it with him always.

His knuckled fingers picked up the silver-white coin, its rough texture transmitting through his fingertips.

A year had passed, yet he still vividly remembered the feel of her skin under his touch.

Her skin was smooth and delicate, soft as a cloud, feeling like warm, body-temperature silk against his hand.

She was sensitive; every touch from him would send excited tremors through her.

Beside him, she was like a petal battered by a storm — Jiaojiao trembling, helpless and pitiable. Her sobs sounded so heartrending that they moved him to respond more urgently.

Her body was covered in his marks.

Back then, the two of them stayed up all night, goofing around until eight in the morning, utterly exhausted yet exhilarated.

A strand of sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, falling upon her buttocks.

Before Qin Yuhe closed his eyes to sleep, he saw a black mole on her buttocks.

Right in the middle of her right buttock was a small, round black mole.

Her skin was very fair, and that perfectly round black mole stood out dazzlingly against her snow-white complexion, giving her a bewitching sensuality—very provocative, very alluring.

This was the only identifying mark she had left him.

If this mole were on her face, he would have recognized her at once upon meeting.

But of all things, it was on her buttock. If he wanted to identify her, he would not only have to ask her to take off her pants but also her underwear.

Can a woman's underwear be taken off without permission?

The location of this mole was truly awkward.

He would probably never find that woman.

As Qin Yuhe's thoughts drifted, the table was struck heavily, causing the liquid in the coffee cup to ripple in concentric circles.

A woman in a white dress had twisted her ankle and fallen against his table.

Her head knocked against the table number with a 'thump.'

The sign loosened, rotated halfway, turning the 6 into a 9.

The woman looked up, saw Qin Yuhe's face, and her eyes lit up. Her voice grew soft and coquettish, and she said in a flirtatious, ambiguous tone, "I'm so terribly sorry, sir. Let's exchange WeChat. I must properly apologize to you another day."

Qin Yuhe kept his head down, reading his book, his voice icy and devoid of warmth: "Matters that can be settled the same day don't require another."

The woman, feeling snubbed, stood up.

She noticed that the number on the card had changed from 6 to 9, but having just been rejected by Qin Yuhe, she turned and walked away without reminding him.

………

The coffee shop door was pushed open, and Song Xinya walked in.

A summer breeze swept through the hall, rustling the pages of the book on the table; the rustling sound was loud in the quiet cafe.

The hot, dry wind blew against Qin Yuhe's face, billowed into his white shirt, scorching his smooth skin.

He turned his head to look towards the entrance.

At the same moment, Song Xinya looked towards him.

Their gazes collided in mid-air.

Song Xinya's breath hitched.

So a man could be born more beautiful than a woman.

The moment their eyes met was like a slow-motion freeze-frame in a film. Everything and everyone else blurred, the surrounding light focused only on them, leaving only each other clearly visible in the other's eyes.

The instant she saw him, it was as if a rose in the corner had glimpsed the youth's light.

The moment he saw her, it was as if he'd spotted a single rose amid a rising, dense fog.

Song Xinya's gaze slid from Qin Yuhe's face to the number placard on the table: Booth 9.

He was her blind date.

Very different from what Li Cuirou had described.

A question flashed through her mind.

Black cat or white cat, as long as it catches mice, it's a good cat.

She would never settle for a scumbag, and she would never let go of a quality man.

Good things are like seats on the subway—if you don't grab them, someone else will.

Song Xinya pursed her alluring red lips, a bright, dazzling smile brimming with captivating charm as she walked toward him.

Her long, black wavy hair fell softly, swaying gently with each step.

The red dress clung softly to her figure, cinched at the waist to outline a slender curve, while her long legs emerged from the slit, a dazzling flash of fair skin.

Snowy skin against a red dress, her charm swaying with every movement.

Qin Yuhe observed the woman approaching him and realized for the first time that someone could wear red so beautifully.

The red was still bold and eye-catching, yet he didn't find it garish.

The sound of high heels tapping the floor ceased, and the unique, delicate fragrance of a woman drifted into his nostrils.

Song Xinya sat down opposite Qin Yuhe and got straight to the point: "I'm here for a blind date today."

Qin Yuhe: "So am I."

He closed his book, the coin imprinted with "2000" tucked and hidden within its pages.

"Song Xinya."

"Qin Yuhe."

They exchanged names.

Song Xinya lowered her eyelashes, picked up the coffee cup on the table, and took a small sip. Her crimson lips were stained with a layer of white foam, which then vanished, leaving behind a thin, glossy sheen.

Outwardly, she appeared calm and composed, but inwardly, her mind was in a whirlwind.

The Qin Family!

Qin Yuhe!

Who in the Beijing social circle didn't know of the Qin Family? Who hadn't heard of Qin Yuhe, the crown prince of that circle?

The name Qin Yuhe represented money, power, status, and—

being utterly unattainable.

Countless socialites and heiresses had tried to climb this tree named Qin Yuhe, using every trick and connection to get a meeting with him, to win his favor, to marry him and become the foremost lady of the Beijing social scene.

But all those socialites had failed.

A year ago, Song Xinya had heard Li Cuirou say that she was finding ways to get close to Old Mrs. Qin, all to arrange a blind date between Zhang Yingying and Qin Yuhe, to marry Zhang Yingying off to him.

A trace of understanding flashed in Song Xinya's smile. If she guessed correctly, Qin Yuhe's intended blind date today was Zhang Yingying.

Li Cuirou had arranged for her to meet a fifty-year-old, twice-divorced man with two kids, while arranging a date with the most esteemed man in the Beijing circle for her own daughter. This wasn't just favoritism; it was an insult.

Unexpectedly, through a twist of fate, Song Xinya had run into Qin Yuhe.

The coffee cup made a crisp sound as she placed it back on the saucer. Song Xinya looked over at Qin Yuhe, her gaze appraising him.

The white shirt was of excellent quality, stretched taut over his broad shoulders, creating a sharp, defined silhouette. The area over his chest muscles formed just the right amount of contour, full of tension.

The firm lines narrowed from his shoulders downward, the hem of the white shirt tucked into black suit pants, disappearing into a mysterious zone.

He looked like he'd be very good in bed.

Song Xinya suddenly felt parched and picked up her coffee cup for another sip.

Meanwhile, Qin Yuhe was also studying Song Xinya.

She was very fair, that kind of pure, translucent, delicate snow-white without a hint of impurity.

His deep, dark eyes watched her, and suddenly, a sense of familiarity washed over him.

Gazing into her eyes, he asked, "Haven't we met before?"