Bossy, pampered troublemaker x cold, tough country hunk
Stand-in x crematorium ending, happy ending
Yan Ningyi has been a little tyrant for 18 years. She has always gotten whatever she wants, until she runs into the brick wall that is Song Chihan.
They say the sole heir of the Song family brings misfortune to his relatives and has no heart. Anyone who gets involved with him meets a bad end, and even his own mother keeps her distance.
Yan Ningyi is stubbornly fixated on him. One look at his face leaves her dazed, and she throws herself into getting him.
Later, atop a cliff by the river, her sworn enemy forces Song Chihan to choose: "Your wife of less than a year, or the old housekeeper who'll serve you for the rest of your life?"
The man doesn't hesitate for a second. "Let Aunt Zhu go."
That bastard is just like his name: a piece of iron tempered red-hot. When he's burning hot, he brands you; when he turns cold, his sharp edge cuts to the heart.
Yan Ningyi accepts defeat. She doesn't want him anymore. She really doesn't.
-
After Yan Ningyi jumps off a cliff and disappears, the business world of Xizhou is thrown into turmoil. The orphaned heir to the Song family, now in control of two massive business empires, rises straight to the top.
But while the man stands atop the peaks of wealth and power by day, he goes mad as soon as night falls.
He searches high and low, scouring every remote corner of the world, determined to find his little wife.
Late at night, on the cliff's edge, he coaxes the little naked bird perched on his shoulder: "Stop plucking your feathers. I promised her I'd love only you, this one bird, for the rest of my life."
"And I'd love only her, too."
Later, at a grand Chinese-style gala, the Queen of the East dazzles as the closing act. Before everyone's eyes, the man drops to one knee, restraining himself as he pleads, "Your Majesty, do you need a guard?"
The queen answers haughtily, "No. Get lost."
Song Chihan grips her wrist and presses it to his neck. "If you hate me, strangle me. Just don't leave me."
"Get in line first," the young pretty boy says, counting on his fingers. "You're number... 49 on my mom's list of backup husbands."
