Chapter 7: Get the certificate

The night before the wedding registration, Zhong Yi was holding a plank pose in the yoga room.

Her phone lay beside the mat, and at exactly 9:05 p.m., a cheerful ringtone pierced the calm.

She turned her head to glance at the screen—it was a reminder she’d set for herself: Don’t forget to get the marriage certificate tomorrow.

As if she could forget.

At the same time, on the brightly lit 40th floor of Kunchen Tower, Zhou Shiyi’s phone vibrated next to his laptop. On its lock screen flashed a short note: “Register with her.”

Zhou Shiyi’s eyes never left the screen. He picked up the phone, swiped away the alarm without a glance, and kept typing.

Ever since taking up the appointment at Kunchen Motors, he’d worked overtime three nights in a row.

After sending off his last email, he finally turned to his phone, opened the chat, and typed a brief message:

[I’ve booked the 8 a.m. slot for tomorrow.]

Zhong Yi, now seated beside a yoga ball, replied simply:

[Okay.]

It was their first contact since the charity banquet—a whole week ago. Two short lines, and the conversation ended.

When Jiang Jingyuan returned from his business dinner and couldn’t find his daughter in the living room, he went looking.

He found her half-reclined on a blue yoga ball, chin propped on her palm, quietly staring at her reflection in the mirror.

She didn’t even hear him approach the door.

“Tired?” he asked, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

Startled, she turned—she hadn’t even noticed when her father got back.

“Mm.” Then quickly corrected herself, “Not really. Just thinking about work.”

She got up and began putting away her workout gear.

“You’re home early today.”

Jiang Jingyuan glanced at his watch.

“Not that early. It’s ten.”

Ten already?

Zhong Yi instinctively looked up. The digital clock on the wall confirmed it: just past ten.

Her father urged her to sleep early.

“Don’t show up tomorrow with dark circles under your eyes.”

She nodded, grabbing her phone and water bottle. He switched off the light, and they headed upstairs together.

“I’ll drive you tomorrow morning,” he said.

“No need, I’ll take my own car.”

But he insisted, “It’s your registration day. I have to be there to witness it. Otherwise, I’ll regret it forever.”

Zhong Yi laughed.

“You’re being dramatic. Alright, just make sure I’m awake.”

At the second-floor landing, she said goodnight and returned to her room.

Zhong Yi had overestimated how long she’d sleep. No alarm was needed—she woke naturally before dawn.

After lying in bed for a while trying to drift off again, she gave up and got up instead.

She changed into a simple white shirt, washed up, and carefully styled her short hair. Daylight finally crept in.

There was plenty of time. She sat down at her vanity.

When it came to makeup, she’d inherited her mother’s skill. A light, translucent look came easily to her.

As she finished, she pulled open the floor-to-ceiling curtains, letting in the bright morning sun.

It was early spring, and the birdsong outside was unusually crisp and sweet.

Auntie knocked on the door, calling her to wake up.

“I’m up,” Zhong Yi replied, already packing her ID into a canvas tote as she headed downstairs for breakfast.

Jiang Jingyuan was already at the dining table with his laptop open, scrolling through news while waiting for her.

“Morning, Dad.”

He closed the laptop with a smile.

“You picked a great day—haven’t seen weather this nice in a while.”

Zhong Yi sat down, picked up the warm water waiting for her.

“That’s just your mind playing tricks. It was sunny yesterday too.”

“Was it?” He looked out the window.

“Today’s sky is bluer.”

She teased, “Aren’t you a little guilty saying that?”

He burst out laughing and handed her the utensils—even though they were right in front of her, he always liked to pass them to her himself.

“After you get married, if you run into anything upsetting or don’t want to talk about something with Zhou Shiyi, you can always come to me.”

Zhong Yi smiled.

“If I were marrying someone else, maybe I’d be lost in a conflict. But with him… we know how to handle things.”

He nodded, pleased. Let’s hope so.

At the Civil Affairs Bureau

They arrived before eight.

Zhou Shiyi had gotten there early and waited nearly fifteen minutes. When he saw the Bentley pull up, he stepped forward.

Zhong Yi got out of the car, gave him a small nod by way of greeting.

He, too, wore a white shirt—just like her.

“Uncle Jiang,” Zhou Shiyi said.

Jiang Jingyuan smiled warmly.

“Congratulations to both of you. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

Just as he was about to close the window, something struck him. He quickly stepped out, turning to his daughter.

“I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what?”

He hurried to the trunk. It opened with a soft whir, and he pulled out a bouquet of pink tulips, wrapped in simple kraft paper, morning dew still clinging to the petals like scattered gems.

“Your mom told me at least ten times to make sure you got these.”

Zhong Yi took them in both hands and hugged them to her chest. She had actually considered buying flowers for herself on the way over.

As always—mother and daughter, perfectly in sync.

Before getting back in, Jiang Jingyuan paused.

“Are you two celebrating alone for lunch, or should I book a place for you?”

The couple exchanged a glance.

Clearly, neither had thought that far ahead.

“What do you want to do?” he asked first.

“I’m fine with anything,” she replied.

Seeing their indecision, her father made the call.

“How about this: the two of you grab a simple lunch together, and I’ll arrange a dinner celebration tonight—invite a few close people.”

A brief pause.

“And maybe… it’s time to go public.”

Zhou Shiyi nodded.

“Alright.”

Zhong Yi had no objections.

Her father watched them walk up the steps. They moved quietly, one behind the other, two meters apart—not far, but not close either.

At the final step, Zhong Yi paused to wait for him. Once he was beside her, she walked into the registration hall.

They were the only couple there—it wasn’t official working hours yet.

When the staff learned they hadn’t taken their ID photos in advance, she looked surprised.

“You booked so early—how could you not find even five minutes for a photo?”

She pointed to the left.

“There’s a self-service photo booth over there.”

“Thank you.”

The Photo Booth

Zhong Yi had expected a professional photographer. Had she known it would be DIY, she wasn’t sure she’d have done it at all.

Self-service was certainly more private—but for two people who had once broken up, standing silently in front of a camera together was undeniably awkward.

Zhou Shiyi operated the machine. Zhong Yi stood beside him, eyes drifting to his hands—just like before, his nails were clean and neatly trimmed.

Still the most attractive hands in her memory—long, lean fingers, pale blue veins visible beneath the skin. Hands that once wrote her notes with graceful strokes.

Once the camera screen turned on, only half their faces appeared in frame.

The bright red background between them felt like a visible crack.

Without speaking, they both stepped in.

The red gap vanished.

A cool, woody scent enveloped her—stronger than she remembered.

Zhong Yi held her breath and stared straight into the lens.

Zhou Shiyi stepped back slightly, giving her shoulder more room in the frame.

She felt her shoulder brush his chest—but didn’t move away.

He raised his hand and tapped the screen. Click.

Photo captured.

“Want to take a few more, just in case?” he asked.

His voice drifted down from above her head.

“No need,” she said.

“As long as it works.”

The Certificate

It went faster than she expected. After verifying their info, they were handed their marriage certificates.

For some reason, she felt a surprising sense of calm.

No more wondering during quiet moments if he’d met someone new. Or who he might marry one day.

The staff handed over their certificates. Zhong Yi took one. The other, Zhou Shiyi picked up.

She opened hers—then realized it was supposed to be his.

She was about to say something, but he had already tucked both certificates and related documents into his folder.

She quietly slipped the one with his name into her canvas tote.

The staff looked toward the door again, still expecting someone to come in, perhaps a photographer.

When no one did, she said, “You can take some photos in the oath room. If you don’t have a photographer, I’d be happy to snap a few for you.”

Zhou Shiyi glanced at Zhong Yi, letting her decide.

She politely declined.

“Thanks, but no need.”

At this point, there was nothing between them worth remembering in photos.

He looked at her twice when she said that, but didn’t comment.

Afterward

Zhong Yi stepped outside and looked around—no sign of her car.

Then it dawned on her: her dad had left them to celebrate on their own.

She turned. Zhou Shiyi happened to look back at the same time.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

“But I have to stop by the office first.”

The Maybach pulled up. Zhong Yi got in.

She looked down at the tulips in her lap—her mom must’ve expected they wouldn’t show much affection today, so she’d sent flowers for the photo.

In the end, not a single picture was taken.

Her phone buzzed. She placed the bouquet on the console and checked it.

Ning Que: [Congratulations! 🎉🎉]

He followed up with a photo of her new office.

For a moment, she wasn’t sure—was he congratulating her on the wedding registration, or the move into a beautifully designed new space?

Zhong Yi: [Thanks. Lunch is on me when I’m back.]

She sent out red packets in the work chat too—each one maxed out, enough for several big wins per person. The team joked about moving the office more often.

Except for Ning Que, no one realized it wasn’t a housewarming bonus.

Someone who snagged the most tagged him:

[Boss, can I get two days off in April? My red packet covers a concert trip to Jiangcheng 😁]

Zhong Yi saw the concert name, didn’t reply, and exited the chat.

When she looked up again, the car had stopped in front of Kunchen Tower.

“Where do you want to eat for lunch?” Zhou Shiyi asked, breaking the silence.

No matter what had happened before, now that they were legally bound, he would treat her respectfully.

Zhong Yi turned her head.

“You choose. I rarely eat out.”

In Beicheng, the place she knew best was the cafeteria at Jinghe.

He figured she wouldn’t want to go to his office, so he didn’t ask.

Before stepping out, he asked, “Want anything to drink? I’ll have it sent over.”

She looked at him a second longer than usual—Don’t you remember?—but kept it polite:

“Red bean latte. Thanks.”

Their eyes met briefly.

Then he got out and closed the door behind him.

Truth was, Zhou Shiyi did remember what she liked best.

He just wasn’t sure if her taste had changed after all these years.