Marriage in the Palm - Chapter 1

In the dead of a mid-autumn night, Shanghai City was smothered by an impenetrable, cold mist.

This was no ordinary autumn chill—not the crisp, damp coolness one might expect. This was a bone-deep, piercing cold that clung to the skin and seeped into the very marrow, like the eternal frost of a morgue or the deathly stillness rising from the depths of a graveyard. Pedestrians on the street instinctively wrapped their coats tighter, their footsteps quickening, their voices trembling with an almost imperceptible shiver.

The city’s malevolent energy was converging on a single point.

Banshan Yunjing.

The most exclusive private estate in Shanghai City, boasting a prime location nestled between mountains and water, was now shrouded in a thick, suffocating black Sha energy. In the courtyard, the leaves of century-old trees had withered and curled; the vast lawns had turned a sickly yellow, dead and decaying. Even the koi in the ornamental pond floated belly-up in lifeless clusters.

On the third floor of the villa, in the master bedroom, the lights were off.

Heavy velvet curtains were drawn tight, blocking out all moonlight and starlight. The room was plunged into darkness, save for the faint, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock, which sounded unnervingly clear in the oppressive silence.

Wen Zhiyan leaned against the headboard, her back as straight as a blade forged in ice. Even in the throes of excruciating pain, she maintained a cold, unyielding composure that few could ever hope to achieve.

She wore a pure black silk nightgown, its collar buttoned tight. Her long hair was tied back without a single strand out of place, revealing a smooth, pale forehead and a sharp jawline. Her features were so exquisitely carved they were almost aggressive, yet her eyes held an indelible weariness and stillness.

For twenty-eight years, she had long been accustomed to coexisting with pain.

Born with an innate Yin Sha fate, she had brought death to her biological mother at birth. In her childhood, she brought misfortune to her closest elder relatives. After reaching adulthood, those close to her continued to suffer calamities one after another. The vast Wen family clan held only awe, exploitation, and dread for her—never a shred of genuine familial affection.

To others, she was the President of the Wen family, a woman who wielded a hundred billion in capital and could cover the sky with a single hand. She was a business empress who could summon clouds and rain with a flip of her wrist. But only she knew that from the moment she was born, she had been held firmly in the Grim Reaper’s palm.

The Yin Sha invaded her body day and night, soaking her internal organs in ice. Her entire body remained perpetually cold, and sleepless nights were her norm. In severe cases, the Yin Sha would attack her heart, bringing unbearable pain so intense that even breathing felt like being torn apart.

The Master had said her fate bore a death tribulation, and her life would end at twenty-nine.

There were less than four months left until her twenty-ninth birthday.

Tonight, the Sha energy erupted with devastating force.

Wen Zhiyan’s fingers, hanging by her sides, trembled uncontrollably. Her fingertips were so cold they had turned purple, and a chilling aura radiated from her body. The bedding she touched was covered in a thin layer of white frost. The air was thick with a faint, decaying scent a sign that the Yin Sha was overwhelmingly strong and her life force was nearly extinguished.

Her eyes were closed, her long lashes casting a cold shadow. Her jaw was clenched tight as she endured the excruciating pain without uttering a sound.

Over the years, she had already survived countless such near-death experiences.

Loneliness, coldness, and despair had long been etched into her very bones.

She had no family, no weaknesses, and no one to hold her back. Even her will to live was sustained only by a fierce, stubborn refusal to accept her fate.

Just as the Yin Sha was about to break through her heart meridian and devour the last shred of her life force, a faint, clear sound of footsteps echoed from outside the villa.

The steps were light and slow, like snow falling on clouds or a mountain spring flowing over blue stone, so pure and free of worldly impurities that they seemed almost otherworldly.

The next moment, the bone-chilling pain that had been tearing her apart suddenly faltered.

It was as if a faint but warm light had pierced through the pitch-black, silent night.

Wen Zhiyan’s eyes snapped open.

Her dark, cold gaze, as sharp as a blade in the darkness, fixed on the bedroom door with the vigilance and commanding presence of someone long accustomed to power.

No one dared to enter Banshan Yunjing without her permission.

And no one could approach this villa while her Sha aura was erupting, having laid a deadly trap all around her.

Yet these footsteps had shattered her Yin Sha barrier, advancing toward her step by step, steadily.

The door lock clicked open without a sound, and the door was pushed open gently.

A slender, delicate figure stood in the doorway.

The warm light from the hallway spilled in behind her, outlining her lean and upright silhouette.

The woman wore a simple, clean white cotton and linen outfit. Her long, jet-black hair fell smoothly over her shoulders. Though her frame was slender, it was not frail. She exuded an ethereal, otherworldly aura of aloofness—a stark contrast to the cold, oppressive luxury of the room.

Her features were impeccably clean, her skin fairer than snow, and her lips a pale, natural hue. Her eyes were clear and bright, like the purest moonlight over a mountain valley. Though her aura was cold and distant, her gaze was not sharp; instead, it held an innocent purity, untouched by the world, and a faint, almost imperceptible shyness.

Standing in the light, she was enveloped in a very faint, warm, and pure yang energy. This energy was not powerful, but it was supremely pure, righteous, and yang—like the primordial spiritual energy of the world’s creation. Wherever it touched, the raging Yin Sha in the room dissipated rapidly, like snow melting under a warm sun.

Wen Zhiyan’s breath hitched.

The bone-chilling pain throughout her body receded at a visible rate. Her ice-cold, stiff limbs slowly regained a faint, weak warmth.

For the first twenty-eight years of her life, she had never felt true warmth.

Not the warmth of a heater, a brazier, or any external source, but a warmth that spread from the depths of her soul—a steady, reassuring warmth that could soothe all her rage and pain.

The newcomer stood at the doorway, not taking another step forward. She simply watched Wen Zhiyan with a gaze so clean and direct, devoid of greed, fear, or calculation. It held only a natural affinity, almost like fate itself.

Her voice was soft and gentle, like a cool breeze brushing against the ear, crisp yet tender:

“The Yin Sha on you is almost beyond control.”

Wen Zhiyan stared at her, her throat dry and tight. Her voice, which had been cold and hard for twenty-eight years, now carried a rasp she hadn’t even noticed herself:

“Who are you?”

It wasn’t a question, but an interrogation laced with pressure.

The woman lowered her gaze slightly, her long eyelashes trembling as if intimidated by Wen Zhiyan’s cold and imposing aura. Yet she didn’t retreat, answering softly:

“Xie Qingci.”

“Qingwei Hall, Xie Qingci.”

Qingwei Hall.

The three words struck Wen Zhiyan’s ears, and even she, who had weathered countless storms and possessed a heart as steady as stone, flinched in surprise.

The premier reclusive sect of the Xuanmen, it had not appeared in the mortal world for a century. Its name was spoken in hushed tones, but its members were never seen. Legend had it that the sect wielded the Heavenly Dao’s fortune, communing with the Yin and Yang, decreeing life and death, averting death tribulations, and unraveling the threads of fate. It was an entity that all other Xuanmen sects could only look up to in awe.

So, a true successor of Qingwei Hall actually exists in this world.

Wen Zhiyan looked at the woman before her—appearing barely twenty, with a cold, fragile air and a timid demeanor. She couldn’t fathom how this person could be the legendary, heaven-shaking successor of the Xuanmen’s top sect.

But her body’s most direct instincts couldn’t be fooled.

This person was the only one in her twenty-eight years of life who could suppress her Extreme Yin Sha Fate, bring her warmth, and pull her from the brink of a death tribulation.

Xie Qingci, feeling uneasy under the gaze, lightly clenched the hem of her robe and added in a small voice, “I’m not here to harm you.”

“I’m here to find you.”

Wen Zhiyan’s eyes darkened, her wariness unabated. Her voice remained cold and deep. “Who sent you?”

Xie Qingci raised her head, her clear eyes meeting Wen Zhiyan’s with a steady, resolute gaze, carrying the calm acceptance of a Heavenly Mandate.

“Heaven’s Mandate sent me.”

“Our fates are intertwined, our lives bound together.”

“If I don’t come, you will die.”

“And if you die, I cannot live.”

The words were as light as a feather, yet they struck Wen Zhiyan’s heart with crushing weight.

For twenty-eight years, she had heard every possible fortune-teller’s platitude on avoiding misfortune, every grandmaster’s hopeless pronouncement on her death tribulation. But no one had ever said such a thing to her.

Not “I can save you.”

But “Our lives are bound together.”

Wen Zhiyan gazed at the woman before her—so cool and clean, her features so soft. She saw the aura of warm yang energy radiating from her, dispelling all of Wen Zhiyan’s own yin chill. In the long-sealed, desolate wasteland of her heart, a tiny crack suddenly split open.

And something, through that crack, quietly slipped inside.

She stared at Xie Qingci in silence for a long, long time, so long that the grandfather clock struck three—before finally speaking. The cold hardness in her voice had mostly faded, replaced by a subtle softening she herself hadn’t noticed.

“Come here.”

Xie Qingci flinched, intimidated by the oppressive aura Wen Zhiyan still projected. Yet, she obeyed, lifting her foot and taking one step closer.

With every step Xie Qingci took closer, the Yin Sha on Wen Zhiyan’s body receded a little more, the pain eased a little more, and the restlessness and desolation in her heart were filled a little more.

Until Xie Qingci stood by the bed, only a single step away.

A faint, clean warmth—carrying the scent of sunlight and greenery—completely enveloped Wen Zhiyan.

It was a sense of security she had never dared to hope for in her entire life.

Wen Zhiyan looked at her pale, delicate face, at the tips of her ears tinged with a slight blush, at her fingers clenched tightly from nervousness. For the first time, her heart, which had been cold and hard for twenty-eight years, stirred with the desire to touch, to possess, and to fiercely protect her within her own palm.

She reached out. Her fingertips were bone-chillingly cold, yet she touched Xie Qingci’s fingertips with restrained, gentle care.

In the next instant, two utterly opposing yet naturally compatible auras merged instantly.

Supreme Yin Fate met Supreme Yang Spiritual Body.

Destined Yin Fate—from this moment on, their palms were bound.

The moment their fingertips touched, Xie Qingci trembled slightly.

Wen Zhiyan’s fingertips were bone-chillingly cold—a chill from years of Yin Sha eating into her bones—but as it spread through her skin, it wasn’t repulsive. Instead, it felt perfectly right.

Born with the Heavenly Dao Spirit Body, Xie Qingci could see into the depths of Wen Zhiyan’s soul with a single glance—endless loneliness, a lifelong lack of love, and a landscape of utter desolation.

She was like a beauty trapped alone in an eternal night’s frozen abyss, with no one to accompany her, no one to warm her.

Before his passing, her master had left her with only one sentence: Descend the mountain and find Wen Zhiyan.

She is your destiny; you are her salvation.

Only by never leaving each other’s side can you both find peace.

Wen Zhiyan also froze completely.

The girl’s fingertips were soft and slightly cool, yet they carried the purest Yang Spirit Qi in the world. It swept through her veins, instantly soothing all her agonizing pain.

The insomnia and restlessness that had tortured her for over twenty years vanished in an instant, replaced by an unprecedented wave of tranquility that washed over her entire body.

In her twenty-eight years of life, this was the first time she had ever felt truly at peace.

Wen Zhiyan did not withdraw her hand. Instead, she gently tightened her fingers, completely enveloping Xie Qingci’s slender hand in her own palm.

One yin and one yang, one cold and one warm—a match made in heaven.

Xie Qingci’s fingertips instantly flushed red.

Having cultivated in seclusion on the mountain since childhood, she had lived alone for many years and rarely grew close to anyone. She had never held a woman’s hand in such an intimate way. Her heart suddenly raced, and she found herself holding her breath.

Yet, not for a single moment did she want to pull away.

Wen Zhiyan looked down at their joined hands, her eyes churning with a mix of obsession, longing, and a fragile, precious reverence.

So I wasn’t destined to die alone after all.

Heaven had already granted her her one and only.

“Your hand… it’s so warm,” she murmured, the cold arrogance of a queen melting away to reveal a trace of imperceptible vulnerability.

Xie Qingci replied softly, “You’re too cold.”

“From now on, I’ll be the one to warm you.”

Those simple words shattered Wen Zhiyan’s last defenses.

Since childhood, everyone had called her a jinx—cold, cursed, a bringer of death to her kin, destined for a short life.

No one had ever wanted to warm her.

She tightened her grip, as if afraid the person destined for her might vanish from her arms. “Will you leave?”

Xie Qingci’s gaze was unwavering.

“I won’t.”

“Wherever you are, I will be.”

“Our fates are bound together. You can’t drive me away, and I can’t leave you.”

The final shred of Wen Zhiyan’s resistance completely collapsed. It was as if she had always lived in darkness, and now a sun had suddenly appeared, one she wanted to grasp tightly and never let go.

She slowly raised her hand, her touch light and gentle as it rested on the crown of Xie Qingci’s soft hair, her fingertips stroking it softly.

Her movements were tender and cautious, as if she were handling the most unique treasure in the world.

“Xie Qingci.”

“In this lifetime, you can only stay by my side.”

“No one else can take you away.”

There was no coercion, only the utmost favoritism and possessiveness.

Xie Qingci nodded obediently. “Mhm.”

She had always wanted to be with her.

Wen Zhiyan noticed Xie Qingci’s pale face and ice-cold hands and feet. She frowned slightly. “You’re freezing too.”

Xie Qingci whispered, “I have an innate pure-yin spiritual body. My hands and feet are always cold, and I’m sensitive to noise, commotion, and strangers.”

Despite her Supreme Yang Destiny, her constitution was cold and fragile.

Only when she was near Wen Zhiyan did her soul feel at peace.

Wen Zhiyan immediately lifted the quilt and shifted inward, her tone gentle yet commanding. “Get in.”

“I’ll hold you. We’ll merge our yin and yang, and both of us will be at ease.”

Xie Qingci’s cheeks flushed crimson, her expression a mix of embarrassment and shyness.

She had never shared a bed with anyone before, let alone someone she was so deeply attracted to and close with.

But it was her destiny—the destined yin fate—that they were meant to be close and protect each other.

She murmured a soft agreement and obediently slipped into the bed.

Wen Zhiyan carefully turned on her side and gently pulled her into her arms.

The soft, slender figure leaned against her, enveloped in the cool, herbal scent of spiritual energy. All the Yin Sha within her calmed completely.

Nestled in Wen Zhiyan’s cool yet gentle embrace, Xie Qingci felt a strange sense of security and quickly fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Wen Zhiyan looked down at the sleeping face in her arms, her eyes filled with an indescribable tenderness.

For the first time in her twenty-eight years, this night…

At dawn, warm sunlight spilled into the bedroom.

Xie Qingci slowly opened her eyes, still lying in Wen Zhiyan’s embrace.

The woman’s long, strong arms held her tightly, her breathing steady and gentle. The sharp, cold features she usually wore had completely softened, all their edges smoothed away.

As Xie Qingci stirred slightly, Wen Zhiyan woke instantly.

Their eyes met, filled with tender affection.

“Awake? Want to sleep a little longer?” Her voice was husky and lazy, brimming with affection.

Xie Qingci snuggled closer into her embrace. “I’m awake.”

Wen Zhiyan couldn’t bring herself to let go, craving the warmth of holding her. “Are you hungry? The kitchen prepared a light, soft breakfast just the way you like it.”

She never accommodated anyone, yet she was willing to change all her habits for Xie Qingci.

The formidable multinational CEO—a woman with a severe germaphobia who detested all physical contact—now spent her days holding her beloved, unable to let go.

The servants were all women, moving with quiet efficiency, never daring to pry.

Everyone understood that this white-robed young woman who had suddenly appeared was President Wen’s only exception in this life.

During the meal, Wen Zhiyan personally fed her, wiped the corners of her mouth, and carefully blew on the food to cool it down, her tenderness and attention to detail were absolute.

Soon after, her personal female assistant called to report on urgent group meetings, multinational contracts, and pressure from shareholders.

In an instant, Wen Zhiyan’s expression turned frigid, her aura flaring as she transformed back into the decisive, ruthless Ice Queen of the business world.

Her tone was icy and crisp, leaving no room for argument.

Hanging up the phone, she turned to Xie Qingci, and her demeanor instantly softened like water.

“I need to go to the office to handle some matters,” she said softly. “I’ll be back to keep you company very soon.”

Xie Qingci was very understanding. “Go ahead. I’ll wait for you obediently at home.”

Wen Zhiyan gave her a long list of instructions: don’t wander off, don’t see strangers, don’t let anyone unfamiliar get close, keep the entire house at a constant warm temperature, have hand-warming blankets ready at all times, and contact her immediately if she felt even slightly unwell.

She was nagging and meticulously attentive.

After leaving the villa, she immediately sent a barrage of instructions to the butler:

Guard Miss Xie at all times, forbid anyone from approaching, ensure a quiet and undisturbed environment, prepare meals that suit her taste, do not disturb her, and do not neglect her in any way.

The female assistant in the back seat was utterly stunned.

Her own cold and ruthless female CEO had become so delicate and soft, her heart and eyes filled only with one person.

The world feared Wen Zhiyan for her icy ruthlessness.

Only she knew that Wen Zhiyan’s all-encompassing tenderness was reserved for Xie Qingci alone in this lifetime.

After Wen Zhiyan left, Xie Qingci slowly inspected the villa.

The entire estate’s feng shui was originally of the highest grade, but it had been eroded for years by Wen Zhiyan’s innate Yin Sha. Furthermore, malicious human interference had altered the feng shui and buried Yin objects to attract Sha, continuously intensifying her death tribulation. Someone was deliberately trying to shorten Wen Zhiyan’s life.

When Xie Qingci opened her Heavenly Eye, the forces of good and evil, fortune and misfortune became clear at a glance.

She would never tolerate anyone who dared to harm her.

Soon after, the doorbell rang.

The butler rushed over in a panic. “Miss Xie, several female elders from the Wen family’s side branch have forced their way to the door, demanding to see President Wen. Their attitude is extremely arrogant.”

They were the very ones who had secretly altered the feng shui to harm Wen Zhiyan.

Xie Qingci said calmly, “Do not let them in. They are covered in malevolent Sha. Entering the house will only worsen the backlash on Zhiyan’s fate.”

Before her words had even finished, the main door was forced open.

Several Wen family women, dressed in luxurious clothes with harsh expressions, barged in and berated Xie Qingci from a position of superiority.

“Who is this outsider, daring to occupy Zhiyan’s quarters?”

“You’re bewitching her with your heretical words! Get out now!”

One of them reached out to shove Xie Qingci.

But as she drew near, an invisible Yang Spirit Aura Field violently repelled her, sending her sprawling to the ground in a pathetic heap.

The crowd of women trembled in terror.

Xie Qingci stood with a cool, detached air and exposed all their secrets in a single breath:

“The Wen family’s ancestral tombs have been altered into a Yin Formation, and Yin Wood has been buried in the Xun Position of your residence to attract Sha. The blood-red marks on your Yintang foreheads prove you have plotted against your own kin. Within three days, a great calamity of blood and disaster will surely befall you.”

“Wen Zhiyan possesses a Heavenly Mandate Noble Physique. By harming her, you are defying Heaven itself.”

The women’s faces turned deathly pale, their entire bodies shaking.

Every hidden conspiracy had been seen through by this young woman in a single glance.

Xie Qingci calmly announced her title: “Xie Qingci of Qingwei Hall, the one destined for Wen Zhiyan in this life.”

At the mention of the supreme Xuanmen title, the Wen family women were scared out of their wits. They scrambled and crawled away in a panicked flight, never daring to provoke her again.

With the crisis averted, Xie Qingci let out a soft sigh of relief.

She was somewhat averse to conflict with strangers, yet for Wen Zhiyan, she had bravely blocked all the malice.

She stood quietly by the window, waiting for her beloved to return.