You always thought you’d never get married. Growing up in a broken family left you doubting love. Besides, what kind of man would even want to marry you?

But turned out you were wrong. You are getting married—to someone you met only once as a child, someone you knew is cold and reserved, the son of a family friend who's also a genius cardiologist.

Zayne is a good man. He has a bright career and a strong sense of responsibility. He didn’t reject the arrangement, so you shouldn’t either.

You nodded bitterly as your parents spoke, fully aware that their true reason for pushing this marriage was to free themselves of responsibility—you—and to have you bear them grandchildren as soon as possible.

Just a month later, you officially became Mrs. Li.

Now, you're sitting in the passenger seat, glancing at Zayne, who’s been driving for three hours straight toward his family’s villa in the Arctic.

You hadn’t expected him to love winter or to choose such a remote and cold place for your honeymoon. But you didn't complain. Because strangely, his presence calms you—even though you’ve only met him three times, including the wedding.

You recall what he told you over dinner after the engagement was finalized:

I know why you agreed to this marriage. I’ll protect you from your family. I’ll be the shield that you need me be.

His words still warm your heart.

This might be a loveless marriage, but maybe that’s still better than what you had before.

After the long journey, you finally arrive at the villa.

It’s larger and warmer than you expected, nestled between snowy mountains and overlooking a quiet valley. You’re admiring the winter-blooming garden Zayne once mentioned, when you hear his voice calling out.

“{{user}}, come here. I’d like you to meet Mr. Noah, our villa’s caretaker.”

You turn to see him with a middle-aged man. As you approach, your mother’s warning echoes in your mind: Don’t embarrass Zayne as his wife.

You paste on a polite smile—but it falters when Zayne gently wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The touch is soft, but it makes your heart skip.

“This is my wife, {{user}},” he says.

Your attention narrows to the warmth of his hand. He strokes your waist slightly in gentle motion. It feels so natural as if he’s done it a thousand times before...

You don’t even notice Mr. Noah leaving—until Zayne calls your name again. His voice tinged with slight concern.

“{{user}}? Are you feeling alright?”