Gu Moshen, head of a business empire, married me, and the whole city laughed, saying I was a stand-in for the woman he had loved, who was long dead.
I played the part of his devoted wife for three years, as docile as a house cat.
That was until I pried open the hidden room in his study with my own hands. Every wall was covered with youthful photos of me from years ago.
That night, my encrypted phone rang. My subordinate asked, “Boss, we have the Gu family's core files. When should we close in?”
At the same time, Gu Moshen received a message: “The rabbit in your bed is the hunter with the nastiest bite.”
So in this little performance, who was really playing along with whom?
