An Old Sweet Story About Rebirth

Of all the ways Tyler imagined someone might ask for a show of sincerity, filling out a college application was not on the list.
But that’s exactly what Shane had told him.
“You need to be enrolled in college,” Shane had said, tone matter-of-fact, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Everyone else in my social circle has partners with degrees — at least a bachelor's. If you don’t, people will question my judgment.”

So that was it.
It wasn’t about Tyler’s future. It wasn’t even about Emily.
It was about saving face.

In a way, it made sense.
Tyler hadn’t had the luxury of time to think too deeply. The moment Shane said the word “college,” his legs had already carried him out the door, straight to the school.
 

****
Submitting the application hadn’t taken long. Tyler already knew which school and which department he would choose — he'd known for years, even if it had always felt like a dream too far to reach.
An hour later, he was in ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) the back seat of a black car, headed toward Greenville.

Shane had said he wanted to meet in a quieter place, somewhere more private — to go over the “agreement.”
The marriage agreement.
The phrase alone made Tyler’s chest tighten, like someone had stuffed a wad of cotton in there and it refused to dissolve. The whole morning had been a blur — one unthinkable thing after another — and he hadn’t had time to actually sit with any of it.

He hadn’t thought through what a fake marriage would even mean.
He’d only heard the word “surgery,” and everything else had gone dim around the edges.
But now, with nothing but passing trees and engine hum to distract him, the doubts came flooding in.

Was it really just a fake marriage? Could there be something else going on?
And if there was — what would Shane even want from him?
What could a man like that possibly gain from a nobody like Tyler?
And how the hell had he known Tyler’s scores were high enough to qualify for university? Those results were supposed to be private. Even the school staff had been confused when he walked in and asked for the application form.

Tyler stared out the window, but his thoughts churned restlessly.
His fingers clenched tighter in his lap. His face shifted, expression by expression, one thought bleeding into the next.
From the front seat, Uncle Liu glanced back. “Mr. Tyler, there’s bottled water and a few newspapers in the front pocket,” he said gently. “It’s still a bit over an hour to Greenville. You might like something to read.”

Tyler mumbled a vague reply, his eyes flicking toward the storage pocket.
English newspapers.
He had a habit — a kind of survival mechanism. Growing up too poor to afford real study materials, he’d made it a point to read every scrap of English he could find. Newspapers, brochures, even junk mail. Anything to practice.

He pulled out the top paper without much thought and flipped it open.
Heir of Xie Industries seeks potential spouse…
Under mounting family pressure, the heir is expected to stabilize the company’s succession plan through marriage…

Uncertainty surrounding personal affairs may compromise market stability…
Tyler paused, eyes narrowing.
That word — stability — yes, that’s what it meant.

His heart sank.
Suddenly, he dropped the paper as if it had burned him.
No way.

No way.
The heir… of the Xie Group?
That couldn’t be. Could it?

Shane — “Shane Xie” — he’d never said exactly who he was.
But now Tyler was starting to understand.
He really was looking for someone to marry.

And Tyler… Tyler had just been convenient.
In the front seat, Uncle Liu didn’t speak, but his eyes caught the movement in the rearview mirror. He typed a message on his phone discreetly and sent it.
[Mr. Xie, Tyler has read the newspaper.]

[He looks troubled. Pale. Definitely thinking hard.]
In another car, several miles ahead, Shane ran a hand down his face, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes.
He wasn’t surprised.

He had ridden separately on purpose — to make Tyler more comfortable, and to make sure he “accidentally” came across that paper.
But now, he wasn’t sure it had been the right call.
Tyler was probably spiraling.

In his last life, Shane had never gotten the full story of Tyler’s past. Tyler had been quiet about it, careful — like a man trying not to bleed on a white shirt.
But now, having come to Milltown, having seen the way people looked at Tyler — dismissive, wary, at times even cruel — Shane was beginning to understand.
Tyler hadn’t just had it rough.

He’d grown up in a swamp. A place that would swallow most people whole.
That Tyler had managed to crawl out of that and become the man Shane had known in the future — calm, capable, brilliant — was nothing short of a miracle.
Of course he was guarded.

Of course he was bristling and suspicious, sharp as a hedgehog backed into a corner.
In a place like Milltown, if you weren’t always on edge, you got devoured.
If lying, manipulating — even tricking — was what it took to get him out of that swamp, then so be it.

And after that… maybe, just maybe, Shane could convince the hedgehog to trust him again.
 
****

They reached Greenville late in the afternoon.
Tyler didn’t see Shane right away. First, Uncle Liu brought him to the hospital’s private wing, where they met with the cardiologist.
The doctor was kind, matter-of-fact. He reviewed Emily’s charts, explained the procedure, assured him that it was routine, that recovery would be fast if all went well.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said.
Tyler barely breathed until the meeting ended.
It wasn’t until later, in a conference-room-looking space with cold lights and glossy tables, that Tyler saw Shane again.

He was seated already, behind the table, still wearing sunglasses.
Why is he still wearing those indoors? Tyler wondered, briefly. Is he hiding something?
A scar, maybe?

Then again, it wasn’t his business.
This was just a transaction.
Tyler reminded himself of that as he pulled out the chair across from Shane and sat down — without being asked this time.

No greetings.
Shane slid a folder across the table.
Tyler opened it.

Inside: name, date of birth, financial history, family medical records, academic background.
His own profile.
But… not quite.

He looked up, confused. “Why are you showing me my own file?”
Shane shook his head. “It’s not your file.”
“…What?”

Everything matched. The birthday was exact — even down to the minute. The note about a sick relative, the financial strain. The line that said “unable to continue education due to hardship.”
Shane folded his hands. “That’s a compatibility profile,” he said calmly. “The most suitable match for the role of ‘my spouse.’”
Tyler stared. “What?”

So Shane explained.
Two years ago, he’d fallen seriously ill. Nothing worked. No treatments, no specialists.
Out of desperation, his family turned to a well-known metaphysical master — someone with a long list of anonymous but influential clients.

The master claimed both Shane and the Xie Group were fated to face a crisis.
The only solution?
Find someone with a matching birth chart. Marry them before Shane’s 26th birthday.

And bizarrely, after the family began the search, Shane’s illness did improve. The company weathered a financial crash that should have leveled it.
Since then, Shane’s family had treated the master’s words as law. They’d even tied Shane’s inheritance — his controlling stake in the group — to marriage. No wedding, no power.
Now Shane was 24.

He had to move fast.
Tyler listened, barely following the implications. He didn’t understand business or inheritance.
But something about it still struck him as… off.

“If you need to get married,” he asked slowly, “why not just really get married?”
Male or female — someone with the right birth chart had to exist. Someone who actually wanted to be with Shane.
Shane’s expression didn’t change. “…For personal reasons. I can’t.”

Tyler blinked. “Oh.”
Shane’s voice was steady as he explained. “Since I’m not actually planning on getting married to anyone, I need someone to… role-play.”
The conditions were clear.

First, the person had to match the ba zi—the Chinese astrological birth chart that Shane’s family believed was the key to his survival.
Second, they couldn’t be from “within the circle.” No prior connections to the Xie family, no knowledge of the sham marriage, and when the time came to end the marriage, it had to be clean and without complications. No additional demands beyond reasonable financial compensation.
Shane’s team had already looked for candidates based on these criteria. But none had matched, not even close.

Then, just a few days ago, they’d found Tyler.
Tyler’s ba zi was a rare match. But more than that, his other qualities lined up nearly perfectly with the requirements — a ninety percent match.
In other words, Tyler was the ideal candidate for Shane’s plan.

Shane’s marriage proposal, this “contract marriage,” was the safest and most cost-effective option for him.
The word benefit echoed in every sentence, like a constant refrain.
Tyler pressed his lips together.

So this was the arrangement.
But the bluntness, the bare-naked truth of it — it felt more real than anything he’d heard so far.
If Shane had stood there, pretending to be all concerned about Tyler’s well-being, about his sister’s situation, Tyler would have doubted everything. He would have seen the same insincerity that had lurked in Mr. Ray’s words, the same hollow promises.

This, at least, was honest.
When Shane pushed the folder toward him, Tyler hesitated for only a moment before opening it.
The first page was a summary of the terms, straightforward and cold. Tyler quickly flipped through until he reached the section about compensation.

It was simple and clear.
According to the contract, Tyler would marry Shane when he turned 20. The marriage would last for three years, with a generous stipend paid monthly. Then, at the end of the marriage, Tyler would receive a substantial divorce settlement.
The numbers were staggering. Tyler’s breath caught, his pulse quickened.

He forced himself to calm down, turning the page.
Next was the section about physical contact.
Tyler’s eyes scanned the terms carefully, his face flushed as he read. The contract was thorough — explicitly defining what was off-limits. No sexual contact of any kind, no kissing, no touching of sensitive areas, not without clear and mutual consent.

His face turned an even deeper shade of red as he read through the detailed definitions of each prohibited action. It felt so… clinical.
Still, Tyler couldn’t deny his discomfort. He wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed by the explicit language, or irritated that this contract was laying out exactly what would — or would not — happen between them.
Shane cleared his throat, his voice calm but slightly amused. “To put it simply, this section means we can’t harass each other without consent. We can only touch each other in the usual ways — shoulder, back, that sort of thing.”

Tyler didn’t look up. “No changes necessary.”
With that, he flipped back to the section about obligations.
This section was even longer, filled with bizarre terms. Tyler had expected things like meeting each other’s family and pretending to be affectionate. But there were other clauses he hadn’t anticipated, like maintaining good health and striving for academic success.

He looked up at Shane, confused.
Shane raised an eyebrow. “If your grades slip, or your health isn’t good, it will reflect badly on me.”
Tyler blinked.

So that’s what this was about — a man obsessed with appearances, even down to the smallest detail.
The last few hours had been an overwhelming blur of legalese, agreements, and financial arrangements. But now, finally, he had one last question.
"One more thing," Tyler said slowly. "According to the agreement, I don’t have to tell anyone about the marriage or divorce… except your family, right?"

Shane nodded. “That’s right.”
"Strictly speaking, if you choose not to disclose it, it will remain a private matter. The only people who will know are your future partner and the people at the civil registry."
Tyler’s voice softened. “Well, that doesn’t really matter to me. There won’t be anyone else.”

He thought of his biological father — the man who had never been there, the man who had never wanted to be there. Tyler’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “There won’t be anyone else.”
Shane studied him quietly, as if he expected Tyler to continue. But Tyler only shook his head.
“I don’t have any other questions.”

Shane paused, then smoothly took the two copies of the contract and signed them with a fluid motion.
Now, it was Tyler’s turn.
His hand felt clammy as he reached for the pen, his fingers cold despite the air conditioning in the room. His chest tightened.

He glanced at Shane again, his heart pounding, then looked back at the paper.
"One last thing," Tyler said, his voice cracking slightly. "Can I sign after I take Emily to the hospital? After the admission paperwork’s done?"
Shane raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “It’s already been taken care of.”

“...What?” Tyler blinked, looking back at Shane.
Shane pressed a button on the conference table. A young assistant entered, carrying a stack of paperwork.
“Mr. Tyler,” the assistant said, “since the patient hasn’t arrived, we’ve only pre-paid for the procedure and reserved the bed. Here are the receipts, along with the admission instructions.”

The assistant left, leaving Tyler to stare at the documents in his hands.
He looked up at Shane, who was sitting under the bright overhead light. His sunglasses still hid most of his face, but Tyler thought he saw a hint of tension in his jaw.
Tyler exhaled shakily, closed his eyes, and signed his name, each stroke deliberate and slow.

He whispered, “It’s done.”
For a long moment, the room was silent.
Tyler’s eyes fell on Shane’s signature.

Shane Xie.
The name seemed different now. Somehow… familiar.
Tyler muttered under his breath, “So this is the real Qing Sheng.”

Not the “green orange” like he’d assumed.
Shane chuckled softly. “You thought it was ‘Qing Sheng’, didn’t you?”
Tyler froze. How did he know?

And why did it feel like Shane was almost happy? His voice had a strange rasp to it, like he was trying to hide a laugh.
Tyler blinked, confused. His gaze shifted to Shane’s face, but the man’s expression was still neutral — no sign of humor, no indication of anything other than calm professionalism.
It must have been a trick of the light.

Shane stood up, walking around the table to extend his hand toward Tyler.
“Tyler,” he said smoothly, “we’re partners now.”
He smiled slightly. “I hope we can work together happily over the next four years.”

Tyler hesitated for a moment, the word partnership feeling oddly foreign, yet not entirely unpleasant. He rose to his feet and shook Shane’s hand, his grip firm, though his mind was still reeling from everything.
“...Cooperation,” Tyler said, almost to himself. “I hope so, too.”