Mrs. Fu was just about to say something, but Qin Wenhao spoke up first. "Mom, Mingxue is right. We’ll talk about that after the wedding. Since you’re here this time, why don’t we just hold the wedding in Beijing City? What do you think of the eighth?"
Fu Mingxue’s eyes widened.
Mrs. Fu, on the other hand, was overjoyed. "The eighth is a great day! Let’s set it for the eighth."
She had been hoping for a wedding banquet for a while. Only then would it feel truly official.
Now that her son-in-law had brought it up, she was, of course, all for it.
"Since Mom has no objections, that’s great." Qin Wenhao turned his head to look at Fu Mingxue. "What do you think, Mingxue?"
Fu Mingxue wanted to roll her eyes at him.
’You didn’t ask for my opinion at all when you were deciding just now.’
’And now you remember to ask me.’
’Could I possibly say no?’
"I, I think—"
Mrs. Fu cut her off. "Of course she thinks it’s great. It’s settled, then. By the way, what about your parents?"
"My parents and my grandparents feel the same way. It mainly depended on your and Mingxue’s opinions. If you both agree, they’ll start preparing for the wedding."
"Oh, that’s wonderful! We’ll be troubling your parents, then," Mrs. Fu said, delighted.
Fu Mingxue: ...?
’So, as the person actually involved, my opinion doesn’t matter at all?’
That night, Mrs. Fu prepared a guest room.
Fu Mingxue had originally planned to find Qin Wenhao and talk about canceling the wedding.
But her mom was keeping a close watch, so she gave up on the idea.
Still, she lay in bed for ages, unable to sleep.
’Getting a marriage license and then divorcing is one thing.’
’But if we hold a banquet, it’s like announcing it to the whole world. How could we possibly divorce then?’
’My mom would kill me.’
After tossing and turning, she decided this wouldn’t do. So she quietly got out of bed and went to the room next door.
She knocked lightly on the door—KNOCK KNOCK.
Qin Wenhao, who had just lain down, heard the faint knock, and a glint appeared in his deep-set eyes.


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