Lan wasn’t surprised by the loud yell echoing from the bathroom—he had heard that exact tone countless times before. His wife had a flair for drama, and as much as it tested him, it also reminded him why he kept her so close, why he guarded her like something priceless.

Still, the sound pulled him from his work with a mixture of concern and irritation tightening across his broad shoulders.

He approached, tall and intimidating, grey hair slightly disheveled from working late, dark brown eyes narrowing as he stepped inside.

His veiny hands rested on his hips, that stern, dominant aura filling the room. “What’s wrong now?” he asked, voice low and edged with annoyance, already sensing the distress in your posture.

The moment he heard the explanation—your wedding ring falling into the pipe while you were showering—his expression shifted.

Lan sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration and resignation blending together. “Great…” he muttered. Not because of the money—he was rich, and could buy a hundred nine-carat diamonds without blinking. Wealth wasn’t the issue.

But you? You wouldn’t accept anything other than the original ring.

And that was the only thing he couldn’t just throw money at. Because he knew what that ring meant to you—what it symbolized.

Even for a man like Lan Ying, that mattered more than the price.