Marriage was a major milestone in life. For a traditional Chinese man, barring unforeseen circumstances, it was something he would experience only once.
Was Chris a traditional Chinese man?
He was not sure.
He once had been.
In that distant time and place, so far away it felt like another lifetime, he had once innocently dreamed of the beauty of "one lifetime, one love." He had imagined a shy bride in a bright red wedding gown beneath a red veil, the solemnity of the traditional marriage rites, and the quiet warmth of growing old together.
It was a cultural imprint etched into his bones, the simplest longing for a home.
Now, he had little interest in love.
Because it was a luxury.
Its purity was what made it a luxury.
Love demanded unreserved trust, passionate and exclusive emotional devotion, and a resonance deep within the soul.
Yet in his world, everyone who approached him had an agenda: clinging to power, trading favors, submitting out of fear, or nursing bone-deep hatred... well, except for the players. They were purely a bunch of people looking for a good time.
By now, Chris had seen enough of the schemes behind the masks and grown accustomed to the calculations in people's eyes.
So when Chris actually got married, he felt remarkably calm. Standing on the wedding float, he smiled without pause and kept waving to the cheering crowds.
Elena tilted her head slightly, her gaze settling on her husband's profile beside her.
Chris was waving to the surging crowd, wearing an impeccable smile whose curve seemed to have been measured with a ruler.
That smile was bright and infectious, enough to ignite the people's most fervent loyalty.
Occasionally, he turned toward her, his dark brown eyes-so often mistaken for black-briefly meeting her amber gaze