𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ Skating On Thin Ice | 钱锟 Qian Kun
synopsis after a scandal destroys figure skater y/n’s reputation overnight, who was at the peak of her career. she’s offered an unexpected deal by qian kun, the ceo of the QN group. desperate to secure his inheritance before his father dies, kun needs a wife, and y/n needs her name cleared. a marriage committed for mutual benefit can bloom a flower called love?
pairing: ceo!kun x figure staker fem!reader
au/genre: fake marriage, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, ft winwin, xinyu of triples and shuhua of idle
wc: 11k
warnings: mentions of drugs, death
an: hehe, ceo kun, what a snack, the fact i get story ideas only when im about to study well... enjoy!
playlist: bending my rules by flo, no one like you by wayv, un village by baekhyun, fit by d.o, loving you by michael jackson, knock on by nct 127
"national figure skating star zheng y/n, 23, has been accused of violating anti-doping regulations after reports alleged the presence of AAS, commonly known as performance enhancing substances, during a recent investigation. as the controversy spreads online, additional allegations surrounding misconduct and favouritism within the federation have also surfaced, causing public backlash and placing her career under intense scrutiny."
the sound of the reporter echoed through the empty ice skating rink, her voice bouncing off the cold walls like a cruel reminder of everything crashing down around you.
your coach stormed across the ice, dress shoes scraping harshly against the surface before he shoved his phone inches from your face. his fists were balled so tightly his knuckles had turned white. he was furious. beyond furious.
“tell me this isn’t true.”
on the screen was your face plastered across every headline.
zheng y/n accused of doping scandal.
your breath caught as the reporter continued speaking in the background.
“—additional allegations have begun surfacing online, causing severe backlash against the twenty-three-year-old figure skater…”
the rink suddenly felt colder than ever.
you looked down, with glossy eyes. you shouldn't cry, this isn't your place to cry, you embarrassed your coach, your teammates, your family, and yourself. you bit your lower lip, forcing back tears. you let out a sigh.
"coach," you exhaled, wondering if he'll believe what you say. "i didn't do it. i swear," a tear falling against your cheek, your throat tightening. a lump forming in your throat, your heart felt suffocated; you couldn't get the words out of your words.
your throat tightened painfully, as your chest rose unevenly. it felt like the air had disappeared from the rink entirely, your heart squeezing so hard it hurt to breathe.
“i would never do something like that…” you whispered. your coach furrowed his eyebrows, not convinced, though he knew you wouldn't do something like this. not because he thought you were guilty; no, he had watched you bleed on the ice for years, watched you train until your ankles gave out and your hands trembled from exhaustion. he knew you better than anyone.
but scandals like this didn’t care about the truth. before you could say another word, he grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the rink exit.
“okay then,” he said quickly, desperation slipping into his voice, “we’ll go to the police and tell them everything. i’ll talk to the higher-ups myself. i’ll make sure you stay on the national team until this gets cleared up.”
his words lit the smallest candle of hope inside your chest. for a second, you wanted to believe him and wanted to believe this could still be fixed.
your lips trembled as you slowly pulled your hand away from his grasp, fingers curling tightly into your palms until your nails dug painfully into your skin.
“coach,” you said shakily, forcing the words out through gritted teeth, “listen to me.” he furrowed his brows, beads of sweat dropping from his forehead in this cold room.
“it’s not that easy.”
your coach stared at you, confusion and frustration mixing across his face. “what do you mean it’s not easy?” he snapped quietly. “if you didn’t do it, then we fight this. we prove them wrong.” a bitter laugh almost escaped you. you swallowed harshly, your voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
“they already decided i’m guilty.”
⛸️ A WEEK LATER
a week later, the world outside had only gotten louder. headlines, accusations, interviews, every channel still had your name plastered across the screen like you were some criminal waiting to be sentenced. sponsors dropped you one by one. your federation released a vague statement. even your social media had become unbearable to look at.
so you stopped.
stopped answering calls. stopped opening curtains. stopped stepping outside.
your apartment was dark, cold, buried in silence as you laid curled beneath layers of blankets on the couch, staring blankly at the muted television.
ding dong.
your brows furrowed, for a moment, you ignored it, thinking whoever it was would eventually leave. but the bell rang again. and again, letting out a tired sigh, you pushed the blankets off yourself and dragged your feet toward the door. the moment you opened it, your breath caught slightly.
“y/n…”
standing outside were your teammates, xinyu and shuhua held a paper bag tightly in her hands while xinyu offered you a small, hesitant smile. both of them looked worried the second they saw your exhausted appearance.
and suddenly, after spending an entire week alone, the apartment didn’t feel quite as empty anymore.
you stepped back, to let them inside,the familiar warmth of their presence filling the stale air, their expressions melted into visible sadness after seeing your state. concern, sadness, almost painful in your eyes. you were wrapped in exhaustion. i mean you looked pitiful, understandable.
"y/n, i'm so sorry this happened to you," shuhua whispered with a frown on her face, xinyu nodded behind her, agreeing what shuhua was preaching. you simply nodded at her words because what else can you do, but you were honestly happy when they told you about their achievements.
you moved quickly, motioning for them to sit before going to the kitchen to grab glasses of water, after a week of hibernating inside your blankets.your movements felt somewhat slow as if your body was still catching up to the week you'd lost. you felt warmth within you, seeing your friends.
xinyu hesitated before putting the glass on the table. "i got selected into the national team, replacing you," complete silence. "honestly, i feel so guilty, i'm so sorry, y/n." xinyu frowned with a pout on her lips.
your chest tightened, not because you blamed her, but the world had already taken so much from you, another good news sounded like a kind of loss for you.
you exhaled slowly, forcing a soft smile to form even as it wavered at the edges. “i’m so happy for you, xinyu,” you whispered, voice gentle. you gave her a look that tried to be reassuring, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i’m glad you’re getting opportunities… you don’t have to feel guilty.”
your words came out steady, but something sharp formed in your throat right after, like a lump made of thorns pressing down every breath you tried to take. xinyu opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but shuhua gently touched her arm, stopping her.
and just like that, the conversation drifted, thirty minutes passed like that. soft voices filling the space you thought had forgotten how to hold people. shuhua talked about practice sessions, about the coach being stricter than ever, about how the rink felt emptier without you. then she hesitated, glancing at you carefully.
“coach… and everyone,” shuhua said quietly, “they still talk about you.”your fingers paused around your glass. “they said they miss you,” she continued. “and… they’re waiting for you to come back.” for a moment, you didn’t respond.
something warm and fragile stirred inside your chest — unfamiliar after days of cold silence. you blinked once, then again, as if making sure you heard her correctly.
they still… wanted you back?
your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. instead, your shoulders sank just a little, like your body was finally allowing itself to feel something other than emptiness, and for the first time in a long while…you didn’t feel completely alone.
you opened your mouth to speak, but before any words could come out, xinyu’s phone suddenly rang. the vibration cut through the soft atmosphere like a crack. she reached for it quickly, glancing at the screen before answering.
“oh, alright, i’ll be there!” she said brightly, a smile instantly appearing on her face. she ended the call and looked up, only to meet two silent stares; yours and shuhua’s. who was it? the question hung unspoken in the air.
xinyu hesitated for a second before shifting in her seat. “guys… i think i have to leave earlier than expected. i have practice.” her eyes lit up slightly as she said it. “you know the finals are coming up…” for a moment, something flickered in your chest.
that expression. that excitement.
it used to be yours.
you used to speak like that about practice. about skating. about everything waiting for you on the ice. shuhua shot xinyu a sharp look, inhaling through her teeth in frustration, but xinyu immediately looked guilty. “oh—i didn’t mean to—”
you raised your hands gently, cutting her off before she could spiral. a small, genuine smile formed on your lips. “no, no! it’s fine,” you said softly. “it’s good seeing you happy, xinyu.” for a second, the tension eased. xinyu smiled back at you, a little relieved now, and quickly stood up to gather her things.
“i’ll text you later,” she said, adjusting her bag. you nodded at her, she gave both you and shuhua a small wave before heading out the door, her steps quick with purpose, already returning to the world you had been pulled out of and just like that… the apartment grew quieter again.
💊 AT SHANGHAI INTERNATIONAL HOSPITAL
the room was too quiet for something so expensive. it didn’t feel like a hospital room, more like a luxury apartment dressed in white walls and sterile silence. polished floors. soft lighting. a skyline view that meant nothing when you couldn’t step outside.
monitors beeped steadily beside the bed, each sound a reminder that time was still moving, even when everything else felt frozen. qian kun sat in a chair beside his father, posture straight but heavy, elbows resting on his knees.
on the wall-mounted television behind them, muted news footage played, headlines, scandals, names flashing across the screen like they were disposable. he didn’t really look at it.
his gaze stayed on the man in the hospital bed instead. his father. the man who built QN group from nothing. the man who now lay pale and still, weakened by something money couldn’t negotiate with. kun’s jaw tightened slightly. all of this, the wealth, the empire, the influence, and none of it could fix this.
his fingers curled once, slowly, then relaxed again. controlled. always controlled. but control didn’t change the fact that the beeping monitor was the only thing proving his father was still here and somewhere behind the noise of the television, another name flickered across the screen.
zheng y/n.
kun’s eyes finally shifted, just slightly distant, calculating as the reporter continued, the muted television filled the room with a soft, distant hum.
“figure skater zheng y/n… accused of misuse of AAS, also known as performance-enhancing doping…”
kun’s gaze, previously fixed on his father, slowly lifted, his eyes moved to the screen. the image of her appeared; bright arena lights, a frozen moment of perfection, a smile that didn’t match the chaos now being spoken over it. his expression changed almost unnoticeably.
his eyes narrowed slightly, studying the face on the screen, the gaze so sharp as if he could shoot razors into the screen. around him, the monitors kept beeping steadily, indifferent to the world outside the room, the reporter’s voice continued, but it blurred into background noise.
his father’s eyelids fluttered before slowly opening, the beeping monitors shifting slightly in rhythm as his condition stabilized just enough to return to awareness. kun’s posture straightened immediately. the screen behind him was forgotten in an instant.
“father…” he spoke quietly, almost restrained, like even his voice had been trained to stay controlled in moments like this. chairman qian turned his head with visible effort, lips curling into a weak, almost teasing smile.
“ah…” he rasped, voice rough but still carrying that familiar vigour of authority, “i forgot i had a son who actually cared about me.” a faint breath of laughter escaped him, strained but real. “you finally visited me, you punk!" kun exhaled slowly through his nose, expression unchanged, though his eyes softened just slightly.
“i couldn’t before,” he replied evenly, “due to overlapping meetings.” it sounded like a report more than an excuse. the chairman narrowed his eyes at him, unimpressed even in his weakened state. “meetings,” he repeated, as if the word itself was offensive. “you always have meetings.” kun didn’t respond immediately.
his gaze stayed steady, composed, the kind of calm that didn’t break even under pressure, but the faint sound of the television behind them still lingered in the room’s atmosphere, like something unfinished.
his father kept talking, voice still weak but carrying that same stubborn energy that never really left him “my son…” he muttered, staring at the ceiling like he was already exhausted by the conversation, “how old are you already? you’re thirty this year.”
his father let out a long breath, half annoyed, half amused“you know,” he continued, “i was already married at twenty-one.”he turned his head slightly, squinting at kun like he was personally offended by his life choices.
“and you?"
“what about you, you punk?”
kun blinked once, slow. the question landed, but he didn’t rush to answer it. his expression stayed calm, almost unreadable, but something behind his eyes shifted, faint, complicated, like he’d heard it a hundred times before but never felt like replying. he glanced down for a moment, then back at his father.
“you were forced to marry, i am not,” he said simply.
not rude. not defensive. just… honest.
his father clicked his tongue softly, clearly unimpressed, but there was no real anger in it. just a tired kind of concern buried under years of expectation, his father raised an eyebrow suddenly, eyes narrowing with visible curiosity despite how exhausted he looked.
“kun,” he started slowly, “are you gay?”
kun stared at him blankly.
the chairman continued anyway, completely serious. “you’re always stuck to your secretary’s hip. uh… what’s his name again…”his brows furrowed as he tried to remember. then his face lit up faintly.
“ah, yes. sicheng.”
kun looked at him with complete deadpan silence for a solid second before exhaling quietly through his nose. “that’s not the case, father." his tone stayed calm, though faint disbelief slipped through. kun met his father’s eyes directly, and posture is still composed as ever.
“i’m not interested in marriage,” he said simply.
a brief pause followed before he added, quieter this time,
“not right now.”
his father hummed unconvinced, giving him a long look like he could see straight through him. “you punk! i'm on my deathbed, just let me see you married.” kun rubbed a hand over his face, he said with genuine care.
“father, don't get rile up over something so useless, your blood pressure is gonna spike up again.” the chairman shot back "qian kun,” his tone alone made him look at him properly.
the chairman suddenly straightened slightly, whatever weakness in his body was momentarily overshadowed by pure stubbornness.
“if you do not get married while i’m still alive…” he paused to exhale, breath shaky from exhaustion, “then i will donate every last cent of my fortune.”
“no chairman position. no inheritance. nothing.”
the older man narrowed his eyes at him.
“stay a bachelor for the rest of your life since that’s apparently what you like.”
with a dramatic huff, chairman qian crossed his arms as best as he could and turned his back toward him like an upset child refusing to continue the conversation. silence filled the room for a second. kun stared at the back of his father’s head, almost in disbelief.
“…father.”
“hmph.”
“you’re blackmailing me from a hospital bed..?"
“and?” the chairman grumbled without turning back. “is it working?” kun let out a breath of amusement, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple slowly.
kun raised an eyebrow for a brief moment before letting out a quiet sigh. he stood from his chair and leaned down slightly, carefully pulling the duvet higher over his father’s shoulders. despite everything, the motion was instinctive. gentle.
“rest,” he said quietly. “i’ll be taking my leave now.” his father didn’t reply this time. whether asleep or simply ignoring him out of stubbornness, kun couldn’t tell, he stared at him for a second longer before finally turning away.
the vip room door slid open smoothly. outside stood two large bodyguards dressed in black, stiff as statues. beside them was his secretary, sicheng, completely absorbed in his phone as he scrolled through something with zero awareness of his surroundings. kun walked toward him with measured, clean steps.
then snapped his fingers directly in front of his face, and sicheng nearly jumped out of his skin. “oh—my god,” he breathed out, clutching his chest dramatically. “you scared me.” kun looked at him blankly. “slacking off?” the question immediately made sicheng straighten his posture like someone hit a reset button.
“absolutely not!” he said quickly. “i was just, uh… checking the deployment of the new—” kun cut him in “didn’t we already do that?” sicheng visibly froze, “…double checking,” he recovered weakly, forcing out a nervous laugh. “is quite efficient, boss.”
kun stared at him for a long second, thoroughly unconvinced, then he started walking again. sicheng hurried after him as the bodyguards followed behind. the polished hospital hall echoed with their footsteps while the two continued bickering on the way toward the elevator.
“you spend more time on your phone than working.”
“that’s not true.”
“your screen time says otherwise.”
“…you checked my screen time?”
kun glanced at him flatly. “you left it open during a meeting.” sicheng groaned quietly in embarrassment while the elevator doors slid open in front of them.
❄️ TWO WEEKS LATER ❄️
your name slowly disappeared from television screens. the headlines that once screamed your downfall were buried beneath newer scandals, newer tragedies, and newer people for the world to tear apart. tv stations stopped mentioning you. reporters stopped camping outside your apartment. even the internet seemed to move on.
the chaos died down, but for you, the world had stopped the moment everything was taken away because people didn’t understand that it wasn’t just your reputation you lost. it was your first love.
ice skating had been there before the medals, before the cameras, the pressure. it was the only place where your mind ever felt quiet, the only thing that ever made you feel free and now, even looking at your skates hurt but still… some habits were impossible to abandon.
so sometimes, late at night when the city was asleep, you would sneak into the ice rink. hidden beneath oversized hoodies and caps, hoping no one would recognize the fallen athlete everyone once adored, the rink was always freezing. empty and silent but the moment your blades touched the ice, something inside you loosened.
you skated alone beneath dim lights, movements softer now, slower not for practice, not for competition, not for perfection, just to breathe, to let out the emotions trapped inside your chest; the anger. the grief. the humiliation, all the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say out loud became etched into the ice instead..
so lost in your thoughts, your blade slipped slightly against the ice, your balance gave out in an instant
“ah—”
you twisted your ankle awkwardly before falling face-first onto the freezing surface with a harsh thud. ouch. usually, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. twisted ankles, sore muscles, and bruises they were normal in skating. you’d learned how to endure pain years ago, but today…
today it hurt.
you slowly pushed yourself upright, sitting on the ice as you reached for your left foot. your fingers trembled slightly while untying the skate, carefully pulling it off, the moment you rotated your ankle gently, pain shot through it sharply. a small yelp escaped your lips as you inhaled through your mouth, trying to breathe through it.
it hurt more than before or maybe… maybe it was everything else hurting at the same time, the humiliation. the loneliness. the silence. all the emotions you kept forcing down finally felt too heavy to carry. a tear slipped down quietly, landing against your knee. then another, and another.
your vision blurred almost instantly as your breathing became uneven. you pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to stop it, trying to stay quiet, but the sob that escaped you sounded broken after weeks of holding everything in, you finally shattered.
your cries echoed through the empty rink, small and helpless against the massive walls surrounding you, sitting alone on the ice, crying harder than the injury itself deserved.
you asked your manager to drive you to the hospital. your eyes were swollen and red, exhaustion still lingering in them after crying for what felt like hours. strangely enough, part of you felt lighter now, like all the emotions trapped inside your chest had finally spilt out but another part of you felt miserable. pathetic.
your manager helped you through the hospital entrance, your limp uneven as you walked through the polished white halls. the scent of antiseptic filled the air, you’d been here countless times before because of skating injuries. sprains, bruises, and overworked muscles.
but this time felt different.
ridiculous, almost.
later, you sat quietly in front of a nurse while she carefully wrapped gauze around your swollen ankle. you winced slightly at the pressure, earning a small chuckle from her.
“you have low pain tolerance, don’t you?” she teased lightly.
the nurse looked young, kind, the type of person whose warmth naturally made people relax around her. you gave her a small smile.
“you figured.”
before she could reply, the door suddenly swung open. your manager rushed inside hurriedly, nearly out of breath. “can we speed this up a little?” she asked the nurse quickly. “we have to leave soon.” you looked up at her, confused.
“why?” your brows knitted together. “we just got here. the doctor said i still need more tests—”
“xinyu just called me,” your manager interrupted immediately. “i need to drop her off at practice. we can’t let her be late.” she spoke urgently, wiping sweat from her forehead like this was obvious.
oh.
something inside your chest stung quietly.
you lowered your eyes to your injured ankle.
was i not important anymore?
am i just… a burden now?
the thoughts came so naturally it scared you, you stayed silent after that, lost in your own head while the nurse continued wrapping your ankle gently; a few minutes later, she finally leaned back with a satisfied nod.
“miss zheng, i finished it.”
you blinked and looked up at her, the nurse hesitated briefly before leaning closer, lowering her voice into a whisper only you could hear.
“good luck,” she said softly. “i hope your scandal gets resolved soon.”
your eyes widened slightly and she smiled warmly at you.
“you didn’t do it. a lot of people are waiting for you to return.”
for a second, your throat tightened again, not because of pain. but how overwhelmed you felt. your heart swelled, and your eyes got somewhat glossy. you had to keep your composure, so you smiled at her softly.
as you carefully stood up, your hand gripping the chair for support, your manager quickly moved to help steady you. you thanked the nurse quietly before limping toward the door. just before leaving, you glanced back once more. the nurse gave you a small wave, you slowly waved back.
somehow, that tiny interaction stayed warm in your chest. the two of you made your way through the hospital hallways, the polished white floors reflecting the bright overhead lights. your ankle throbbed with every uneven step. then your manager’s phone rang again.
xinyu.
she answered immediately, the call wasn’t on speaker, but xinyu’s voice was loud enough for you to hear clearly through the phone.
“where are you?” she complained sharply. “i told you to come at 3:30. it’s already 3:23 right now!”
your manager instantly tensed.
“ah, i’m sorry, xinyu—”
“and why are you still managing y/n anyway?” xinyu scoffed. “she’s completely washed up now.”
your steps slowed.
“she’s such a burden to you. to me. to all of us.”
the words pierced through you so suddenly it almost felt physical, your chest tightened painfully. that horrible lump returned to your throat instantly as your eyes began glossing over again still, you kept your face forward.
pretended you didn’t hear it.
pretended your heart hadn’t just shattered all over again.
your manager kept apologizing nervously into the phone, “i’m really sorry, xinyu. i’m coming right now, i’ll just drop her off first—”
“i’ll drop her off.”
a calm, deep voice suddenly interrupted.
you flinched immediately, and both you and your manager turned around at the same time. standing a few steps behind you was a tall man dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his posture composed, expression unreadable.
qian kun.
your eyes widened slightly.
wait, what...qian kun…?!
his eyes briefly flickered toward your manager — sharp enough to silence her instantly before settling on you and somehow, under that steady gaze…you suddenly became painfully aware of how small you looked standing there injured and humiliated.
📂 KUN's POV
kun had been visiting his father more frequently these days, too frequently. the kind of frequency that didn’t come from habit, but from something heavier, something he didn’t say out loud.
his father’s condition was deteriorating day by day, and even though kun never showed it on his face, it sat behind his ribs constantly, like a weight that refused to leave. stress from work didn’t help, neither did the silence that followed him home and at night, he would lie awake staring at the ceiling, thinking in loops he couldn’t break out of.
what if this was it? what if nothing got better? dark circles had started forming under his eyes, subtle, but there. a detail only people close enough would notice.
this was his third visit to the hospital in a week, he stayed with his father for about an hour, listening more than speaking, as usual. his presence alone seemed to be enough for the older man, even if they argued half the time.
when he finally stood to leave, it was supposed to be routine.
leave. work. repeat.
but then he saw you, limping through the hallway, small and slow, like you were carrying more than just an injured ankle. his steps stopped without permission; behind him, sicheng immediately caught up, phone in hand.
“boss, the team reported that the prototype is ready—”
kun didn’t even look at him.
“empty my schedule.”
sicheng blinked.
“…what?”
his voice cracked slightly in disbelief, kun finally glanced at him, expression completely flat.
“empty. my. schedule.”
a pause.
“you heard me.”
sicheng looked like he’d just been personally betrayed by reality “what do you mean empty your schedule?” he asked loudly, gesturing at the tablet. “you have three meetings, a board review, and—”
kun exhaled slowly, already done with the conversation, “today,” he said simply, “i’m playing hooky.” sicheng stared at him like he’d never met this man before in his life
then, with visible frustration, he stomped away and started aggressively tapping at the tablet, muttering under his breath while cancelling everything in existence, kun didn’t move.
he just watched you from a distance. waiting, not rushing. not interrupting, just timing, calculating it like this wasn’t a coincidence at all, even if he would later call it one.
an accidental interaction.
kun stepped forward with quiet, controlled steps, the kind that didn’t make noise but still somehow filled the space, almost eerie and ghostly.
he didn’t know what exactly he’d interrupted. he only knew something felt wrong, you looked… not okay. not in a dramatic way, not something he could define properly. just a feeling. broken wasn’t the word he would’ve used; kun didn’t really use emotional labels like that but something was clearly off.
and then he heard it.
your manager, talking about dropping you off. she was rushing, stressed and distracted. something in the situation didn’t sit right with him, so he stepped in.
he stopped right behind you, close enough to be heard but not close enough to invade, he was calm, composed and unreadable as always.
“i’ll drop her off.”
your head snapped towards him, your manager turned too, both of you looked surprised. kun paused for half a second.
why are they surprised?
it wasn’t like he’d said anything unusual. it was a simple sentence, a simple solution. his brows lifted slightly, as if trying to decode your expression.
was it confusion? disbelief? panic? before he could decide, he cleared his throat and repeated himself, voice a little firmer this time.
“i said, i’ll drop you off.”
you blinked, once, twice and then thrice. “...what?” you muttered, turning briefly toward your manager instead, like she would somehow explain this situation better than reality itself.
your manager looked between you and kun with an expression that clearly said: i am about to abandon you in the most brutal way possible, you widened your eyes slightly, shaking your head at her in a subtle “no, don’t you dare” motion.
but her phone rang again.
xinyu.
and that was it. your manager froze for a second, looked at her phone, then looked at kun like he had just descended from heaven personally.
“oh my god!” she blurted out. “you’re a lifesaver, ceo kun!”
your eyes widened immediately.
of course she said it.
“please take care of my precious y/n!” she continued dramatically, already backing away. “i’ll leave her in your care! goodbye!”
before you could even react or protest, she rushed toward the almost closing elevator, the doors slid open just in time, she gave you a nervous smile, continuously pressing the close the door button and then she was gone.
silence, you stood there. kun stood there and somewhere down the hallway, the elevator doors closed like a final verdict.
your mind drifted right back to the extremely awkward situation you were now stuck in. your fingers moved unconsciously to the back of your neck, scratching lightly as you tried to process what was happening.
“uh… you didn’t really have to—” you started.
“can we talk for a moment? i wanted to discuss something with you.”
he cut you off cleanly, as if your sentence had never existed. your mouth opened slightly, then closed again. you narrowed your eyes at him, confusion clear on your fvae.
“what discussion could you be having with me..?” you asked, genuinely curious now, despite everything, he didn’t hesitate, his tone stayed firm, controlled.
“i don’t think you should stand for too long. let’s sit there.” he motioned toward the hospital café without waiting for your response, you blinked once, then slowly nodded, too tired to argue.
a few minutes later, you were sitting across from him. the café was quiet, too clean, too bright, like every hospital café ever. he had placed a cup of bitter coffee in front of you, the kind that tasted as if someone combined water with dog shit.
You stared at it for a second, then back at him, he sat perfectly straight and composed, expensive-looking in a way that somehow felt unfair in a hospital setting, he looked perfect— what.
you shook your head slightly, forcing yourself back into focus before your thoughts could wander anywhere else, your arms rested on the table as you finally spoke.
“what did you want to discuss with me…?”
you hesitated slightly before adding, raisng a brow.
“ceo… kun?”
he looked at you deadpan and, without any hesitation, slid a file across the table. it stopped right in front of you. neat, official, almost too deliberate for what it represented.
you only glanced at it at first, not really registering the word contract before your attention was completely pulled away by what he said next.
“marry me.”
you stayed staring at the file for a second longer, as if ignoring it would somehow rewind reality. then your head snapped up slowly. “…come again?” you asked, voice unsure.
kun didn’t react to your shock. his expression stayed calm, controlled. “you make me repeat myself a lot,” he said flatly, then added, “marry me, miss y/n.”
your brain went completely blank. your mouth opened, then closed again as you blinked at him like he had just spoken in a language you didn’t understand. you even glanced around the empty café, just to confirm this wasn’t some mistake directed at someone else. “…huh?” you muttered.
then, still trying to catch up, you blurted out, “sorry, what? marry? like marriage? getting married? husband and wife?” your hands moved slightly as your thoughts spilled out faster than you could control them. kun listened without interrupting, completely steady, and then simply nodded. “yes,” he said. “i would like you to be my wife.”
silence fell immediately after that. you froze, staring at him like your mind had temporarily shut down, before slowly looking back down at the file. your voice came out quieter this time. “what is this then..?” you asked, pointing at it. “a marriage contract,” he replied calmly, almost convincing you as if he asked you to do a small favor
you swallowed, still trying to make sense of it. “why me? i mean… so suddenly?” you asked. he exhaled lightly, almost like the question was expected. “relax,” he said, as if this was all simple. “my father’s health is deteriorating. if i don’t get married, while he's alive. he’ll donate all his fortune and step down as chairman.”
you frowned slightly. “why don’t you marry someone you love…? wouldn’t that be better than… wasting your time with me?”
kun looked at you for a moment before answering, completely straightforward. “i don’t have time to love,” he said. then, without changing his tone, he looked at you, almost sincerely, "what do you say?"
his words almost made you believe this was some kind of soap opera you were in, you instantly snapped out of your bubble, after you grasp what kind of situation you are in right now. you swallowed, trying to form a sentence but couldn't find the words to.
"don't worry," he says flatly, "i will not pressurize you, so please take your time, considering my offer." he looked at you in such a genuine and desperate way, you almost melted.
you let out huff, straightening your horrible posture, a sign of confidence that you understand where he's coming from. "why should i have to marry you..? what do I gain from it, and my career—"
kun raised a brow, his gaze steady and unflinching as it stayed on you. there was a bit mockery in his expression, with blunt honesty.
“your career?” he said calmly. “isn’t it already over?”
the words landed without softness, without hesitation with no remorse, no cushioning. just fact, spoken like a report. for a second, you went completely still. the café felt quieter than before, like even the background noise had stepped back out of respect for how direct that was.
you clicked your tongue, letting out a sharp scoff as irritation finally broke through your shock. your brows knitted together, disbelief written clearly across your face.
“excuse me,” you said, voice rising slightly, “you’re the one asking me a favor and now you’re insulting me?”
kun didn’t react immediately. he just watched you for a moment, as if measuring your response rather than being affected by it then he leaned back slightly in his chair, expression still calm, still infuriatingly composed.
he then, states with a firm and deliberate tone, "if you marry me, i will clear your name, get you back into the national team, and chase the person who accused you til the end of this world," his gaze stayed on you, firm and unwavering. “and i will make sure they face consequences.”
maybe you were out of your mind to think it sounded kind of romantic. you were losing your composure for the nth time, while he sat on the chair, showing little to no expression for the past 15 minutes. you sighed, again.
“why? why work so hard for me? to clear my name… get married to a respectable woman. don’t get involved with an alleged druggie like me,” you said, eyes dropping back to the file like it was safer than looking at him.
kun didn’t answer immediately. his gaze stayed on you, steady, unreadable, like he was deciding how honest to be without making it worse then he spoke, calm as ever.
“because i feel bad for you.”
a pause followed, brief but firm.
“and if i marry another woman, i’ll be leaving them with no reason one day.”
his tone didn’t soften, but it shifted slightly, less detached, more bluntly practical.
“i asked you,” he continued, “because we both have something to gain.”
silence settled between you again, the café suddenly felt too bright, too clean for a conversation like this. kun’s eyes stayed on you, unwavering. “you get your name back,” he added simply. “i get what i need to satisfy my father’s condition.”
your teeth gritted as your voice finally rose, frustration breaking through everything you were trying to hold in “i don’t need your pity, and i don’t need you to clear my name.”
your eyes stung immediately after the words left your mouth, glossy despite how hard you tried to keep them steady. the lump in your throat returned instantly, heavier than before, making it harder to breathe normally.
kun didn’t react right away instead, he reached into his pocket and calmly pulled out a handkerchief, placing it in front of you on the table like it was the most casual thing in the world.
you stared at it, then at him.
“what’s this?” your voice wavered despite your effort to keep it steady.
“you look like you’re about to cry,” he said simply, brutally honest.
you immediately turned your face away with a scoff, rolling your eyes upward like that alone could force the tears back where they came from.
“who said i’m about to cry,” you muttered, your voice trembled.
but a tear slipped out anyway. then another followed. your brows furrowed as embarrassment quickly took over your entire chest, spreading fast, suffocating. your breathing turned uneven, a shaky exhale escaping you as your lips trembled.
you sniffed once, then grabbed the handkerchief without thinking any further, covering your face with it as everything you had been holding in finally collapsed.
you cried, fully and openly. like no one was watching, your sobs filled the quiet café, breaking whatever fragile stillness was left. a few people nearby turned to look, but before the attention could settle, kun subtly raised his hand and gestured to the guards nearby, who quietly guided the people away without disturbance.
time blurred after that.
you cried for what felt like forever, though it was only minutes; your shoulders shaking, breath uneven, everything you had buried for weeks spilling out all at once, eventually, it slowed.
you lowered the handkerchief, sniffing softly, eyes red and swollen as you tried to pull yourself back together, across from you, kun hadn’t moved much. he wasn’t looking at you.
instead, his gaze was fixed out the window, where the sunlight peeked in quietly, like nothing had just fallen apart at the table between you both.
⛸️ TWO DAYS LATER
two days later, you kept telling yourself it hadn’t really happened. it was easier that way, easier to pretend the hospital café, the contract file, and the calm voice saying something as absurd as marry me were just your brain trying to process stress in the worst possible way but it didn’t leave.
the words kept coming back at random moments, like they had settled somewhere in your mind and refused to move out. marriage contract, clear your name, get you back into the national team.
it didn’t sound bad when you broke it down logically. in fact, it sounded almost too clean for the mess your life had become. a solution with terms and outcomes instead of uncertainty but then reality would follow right after the logic.
your mother’s reaction and the media headlines. the internet turning it into another spectacle, raging headlines on news "disgraced skater marries qian group ceo after scandal"
even thinking about it made your chest tighten, so you called your friends over, though only shuhua came, since xinyu said she was busy practicing. right, it rubbed in like salt on a freshly cut open wound.
now she sat across from you in your apartment, legs folded under her, watching you with that familiar mix of concern and confusion as you fidgeted with your hands.
“so let me get this straight,” she said slowly, “the ceo of qian group offered you a contract marriage… in a hospital café?”you exhaled, leaning back against the couch.
“…when you say it like that, it sounds insane.” shuhua raised a brow immediately, "because it is insane.” you let out a small, tired laugh, rubbing your face before dropping your hands into your lap again.
“but it’s not bad,” you muttered. “i mean… it fixes everything.”the room quieted slightly after that. shuhua studied you for a moment, her expression softening just a little,“or it ties you into something you can’t walk away from,” she said quietly.
you didn’t respond right away. instead, your gaze drifted down to your hands, your voice lower when you finally spoke, “…i know.”
the silence that followed wasn’t heavy exactly, but it wasn’t light either. it sat somewhere in between, where decisions started to feel real instead of theoretical.
shuhua suddenly leaned forward with a grin that completely changed the mood in the room, “but he’s totally handsome!” she said, eyes sparkling like she was discussing a drama instead of your actual life. “like, the age difference is so cute. i can totally already picture you guys together.”
you immediately smacked her arm,“dude, that’s not what i called you for!” shuhua didn’t even flinch properly. instead, she grabbed your shoulders with both hands, shaking you lightly like she was trying to physically knock sense into you.
“okay, okay!” she said quickly, still smiling. “but think about it; what if it was some old sixty-year-old chairman offering you the exact same thing?” your face twisted instantly in disgust.
“…ugh.”
“exactly!” shuhua pointed at you like she had just won an argument. “plus he literally said you can divorce whenever you want!”you narrowed your eyes at her suspiciously.
“you look way happier than me, shuhua.”
she paused for half a second, then gave you a very guilty but very unconvincing smile “i’m just saying,” she said, letting go of your shoulders and leaning back, “objectively speaking… it’s not the worst deal ever.”
you stared at her in disbelief, “you’re supposed to help me think this through, not sell me on it.” shuhua shrugged lightly, clearly not helping at all “i am helping. i’m giving you perspective.”
you groaned, falling back into the couch again, falling into this madness of endless thinking about this shortcut ticket that effortlessly fell in your hands. “…your perspective is terrifying.”
shuhua inhaled softly through her teeth, her earlier teasing tone fading into something more grounded,“well… you can reject him,” she said honestly, shrugging a little. “that’s all i can really say.” the words landed heavier than expected.
you went quiet because deep down, you weren’t just confused. you were attached to the idea already. not fully, not logically… but emotionally, in your heart, you didn’t want to admit existed. you sighed, leaning back slightly.
could qian kun really change your life like that? or was it just another dangerous shortcut dressed up as an opportunity?
your gaze drifted to shuhua, steady now, searching for something certain in her expression. shuhua met your eyes properly this time, no jokes left in her tone.
“y/n,” she said more softly, “you should do whatever you feel is best for you. whatever gets you out of this situation.” she paused for a moment then added, “and honestly… one of the best chances you have right now is kun.”
you blinked slightly at that, her voice stayed firm, but not pushy. just honest“don’t let the opportunity pass you,” she said. “if you’re going to grab anything right now… grab the thing that helps you survive first.”
the room went quiet after that, her words didn’t feel like pressure. they felt like clarity you didn’t ask for but desperately needed.
you looked at her for a long moment, lips pressed together, something shifting slowly in your chest then you gave a small, reluctant nod, you said quietly
“…okay, i guess i'll have to grab that opportunity to survive."
🔆 THE NEXT MORNING
you woke up feeling strangely clear-headed, for the first time in weeks, there wasn't a heavy weight pressing against your chest the second you opened your eyes. the anxiety was still there, lingering somewhere in the background, but it felt quieter now, something that you can now manage.
you lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, the thoughts returned immediately. the marriage contract you got offered, qian kun. his offer.
you rolled onto your side with a groan, burying your face into your pillow. maybe if you ignored it for another day, the decision would somehow make itself, but it didn't.
instead, you spent the next four hours wandering aimlessly around your apartment. you made tea and forgot to drink it. sat on the couch and stared out the window. paced around your living room. sat down again. stood up again.
by the time you glanced at the clock, it was already two in the afternoon. four hours, completely wasted inside your own head you let out a long sigh, rubbing your face, "okay."
your voice echoed through the empty apartment. you couldn't keep thinking in circles forever. sooner or later, you needed to make a decision. your eyes suddenly widened.
the business card.
without another thought, you practically launched yourself off the couch and rushed toward your bedroom. drawers were opened. clothes were tossed aside, a pile of laundry stood up like a flood.
"where is it..."
you dropped to your knees beside the laundry basket, frantically digging through hoodies and sweatpants, then your fingers brushed against thick card. you froze, slowly you pulled it out. the business card. you stared at it for several seconds.
it felt ridiculous, but your heart genuinely skipped a beat, the simple black card sat in your palm like some sort of golden ticket. you swallowed hard. "i'm actually doing this..."
the realization hit you all over again. you stood up immediately before you could change your mind, grabbed your phone from your bedside table, and sat down on the edge of your bed, your thumb hovered over the number. once, twice, thrice, then you pressed call.
the ringing felt impossibly loud, you sat up straighter without realizing it. one ring. two rings, then the call connected.
"hello, this is the reception desk speaking. how may i assist you?"
you blinked with disbelief
right.
of course, someone like qian kun wouldn't answer his own phone. you cleared your throat.
"i want to speak to qian kun."
the receptionist remained professional, "may i know who is calling? i will need to check whether you have a scheduled meeting with him." your brows knitted together, meeting?
you hadn't exactly expected to need an appointment to call the man who proposed marriage to you.
"could you tell him it's zheng y/n speaking?" you asked hesitantly.
there was a brief pause, then the receptionist added, "please stay on the line, ms. zheng." the receptionist's voice softened slightly before she placed you on hold. you stared at your phone screen and suddenly, every bit of confidence you had gathered over the last four hours completely disappeared.
what exactly were you doing? your leg bounced nervously against the floor. the hold music continued playing while your heart somehow beat faster with every passing second and all you could do was wait.
on the top floor of qn group's headquarters, the receptionist sat perfectly upright at her desk, headset in place as she followed protocol. every call directed toward qian kun went through multiple layers before ever reaching him.
“sorry to disturb you, sir,” she said professionally after the line connected. her voice was so polished it almost sounded robotic.
“there's a caller by the name of zheng y/n requesting to speak with you. i'm just confirming it isn't a spam call before transferring—”
the tapping of a keyboard stopped, kun's eyes lifted immediately from the document in front of him. for the first time that afternoon, his attention completely shifted. he hadn't expected you to call this quickly.
not because he doubted you would consider the offer; he'd seen the way your eyes lingered on the contract but because most people needed time before making decisions that could alter their entire lives, a faint look of surprise crossed his features before disappearing just as quickly.
“transfer the call.”
his response came immediately, the receptionist blinked once“yes, sir.” the transfer happened within seconds. meanwhile, several kilometers away.
you were one nervous breakdown away from hanging up. your foot tapped relentlessly against the floor.
tap.
tap.
tap.
your palms had become embarrassingly sweaty. you switched the phone from one hand to the other then back again. why were you nervous? it was only the ceo of one of the biggest companies in the country who had proposed marriage and could change the trajectory of your entire life.
totally normal.
you groaned quietly, dragging a hand down your face, “get it together,” you muttered to yourself. your heart ignored the instruction entirely, and then the hold music suddenly stopped, and your entire body straightened. the silence lasted less than a second.
“zheng y/n.”
your breath caught. the familiar voice came through the speaker so clearly that it felt like he was standing in the room with you and suddenly, all the words you'd prepared over the past two days vanished without a trace.
your foot stopped tapping, your brain stopped functioning and for three horrifying seconds, all you did was stare at the wall in front of you because now that he was actually on the line and you had no idea how to start.
“uh—hi!”
your voice came out way too bright, and you immediately regretted it. your eyes widened slightly as you realized how ridiculous you sounded, you quickly cleared your throat, trying to fix your tone.
“i mean… good morning, ceo kun.”
there was a brief pause on the other end of the line. then his calm voice came through, steady as ever.
“good afternoon to you too.”
you pressed your lips together, biting back a scoff. of course he corrected you. and of course he did it in a way that made it sound normal, like you were the one who made the mistake. it irritated you more than you wanted to admit. you straightened slightly, forcing yourself back on track.
“let’s meet.”
there. straight to the point, at one point, you were going to pat yourself on the back. there was no hesitation from him.
“sure, i’ll send a car to you.”
your brows furrowed instantly.
“what? where?”
“your address.”
you blinked, “…my what?”
“your address.” he said quietly.
your voice rose immediately? “how do you know where i live?!” there was a brief silence on the other end, one that felt heavier than it should’ve. then, for the first time, he showed a bit emotion in his tone.
“i…recall i dropped you home last time we met,"
he, then added with hesitance
"i also did a background check on you."
your jaw dropped, “a background check?!” it came out louder than you intended, disbelief completely taking over your face as you stood there holding the phone like it had personally betrayed you.
“without telling me?” your voice spilled out immediately, full of disbelief and frustration. there was a brief pause on the line before he answered, completely unbothered.
“typically, it defeats the meaning of a background check.”
you bited back the urge to let out a groan, you inhaled to stop yourself from cursing at him, right there and then.
“ah, right.”
you ran a hand through your hair, pacing slightly as your mind tried to keep up with everything happening at once. “when will you be sending the car…?” you asked, already tired of the conversation but too deep in it to stop now.
his voice came again, steady and final. “it’s already on the way. meet me at the fortieth floor, in my office.”
your brain paused for a second, trying to process the sudden switch in instructions.
“huh—”
beep.
the call ended.
you slowly lowered the phone from your ear and stared at it for a second like it had betrayed you personally then your face scrunched up in pure frustration.
“wow, qian kun,” you muttered, voice rising as you stomped toward the bathroom, “you are so infuriatingly annoying!”
your steps echoed through your apartment as you prepared yourself for the future, still muttering under your breath, half annoyed, half… something you didn’t want to name yet.
𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ PART 2 . . . .
