Annual Review of a One-Year Contract Marriage

Mu Zhiyu’s life philosophy was simple: if you can lie down, don’t sit up; if you can joke, don’t get serious; and if you can be alone, never let anyone else through the door.

Then an explosion stuffed him and a deputy from Lingcheng into the same shelter. Then the media snapped an intimate-looking photo. Then the top brass of both cities said, “You two are getting married.”

Mu Zhiyu: “Who was I supposedly engaged to? My refrigerator?”

A one-year contract, with no interference in each other’s lives. Mu Zhiyu swore up and down: once the act is over, we go our separate ways. I absolutely will not fall for him.

But the problem was, the cold-brew lemon jasmine tea this deputy made was just too good. He was so quiet when he watched him. His silhouette blocking the darkroom doorway was so reassuring. Even when he said, “How come they didn’t invite you to eat at the hotpot place?” his expression was as calm as if he were stating an axiom.

Mu Zhiyu realized his focus kept drifting to one particular person, beyond his control.

He decided to blame the chili peppers. It was all a physiological reaction. Really.

This book is also known as: “It’s a Physiological Reaction, Really: The Tearful Complaint of a City Lord Who Can’t Eat Spicy Food but Was Taken to a Mala Hotpot Restaurant by His Deputy.”

Mu Zhiyu, city lord of Xingyi City, cool-toned photography blogger, hopeless with spicy food.

Shi Qiyue, deputy of Lingcheng, data-organizing fanatic, spicy-hotpot champion.

An explosion turned them into a contract couple. Mu Zhiyu thought he was signing a one-year PR deal. In reality, he’d signed a lifelong “being taken care of” agreement.