Minha amiga disse que o grandalhão é bravo, mas à noite ele me chama de bebê

Lunar calendar, seventh day of the second month. An auspicious day for marriage, travel, and moving house.

Song Xi stepped out of the Civil Affairs Bureau, a small red booklet clutched in her hand, still in a daze.

“Building 1, Apartment 1008, Jiushu Community, Shantang Road. That’s my address.” The cool, pleasant voice of the man beside her drifted over. “The code is 000777. You may go there anytime you wish.”

“Oh…” Song Xi replied, sneaking a glance at the man, sizing him up from head to toe.

He was tall—at least six foot three by her estimate—with sharp, chiseled features, an air of aloof elegance about him. His suit was impeccably tailored, his demeanor proper and restrained, polite and almost ascetic. He seemed the very image of rectitude.

Nothing about him suggested the wild abandon of those three times in bed.

Who could have guessed?

Twelve hours ago, she’d been drunk outside a bar and mistook him for her blind date. Insisting that he was the one, she’d demanded to go with him. To her surprise, he had silently scooped her up and taken her away.

The good news: she’d finally slept with someone.

The bad news: it was the wrong person.

The crazy news: she’d just gotten a marriage certificate with the wrong man.

And what was his name again? Jing… something?

She couldn’t recall.

Song Xi flipped open the marriage certificate, hoping to see his name. Before she could get a good look, a long, slender hand reached over and took the little booklet from her.

“By the way, I forgot to mention—you