Chapter 1 — The Salted Fish's Marriage

When we got married, the crown prince of the entertainment industry, Chuyen Mac Nghiem, and I signed a three-year marriage contract. It explicitly stated that neither party was permitted to interfere in the other’s personal life. The agreement stretched across a staggering one hundred and eight clauses: no developing romantic feelings, no intimate physical contact, no entangling ourselves in each other's private affairs... To sum it up in a single sentence: we were to live completely separate lives under the same roof. On our wedding night, Chuyen Mac Nghiem handed me a black credit card with a freezing expression. "One million a month. Do not disturb me." I gladly embraced the freedom, content to live like a lazy salted fish, happily sharing my idle, blissful lifestyle online whenever the mood struck. That was until I stumbled upon an anonymous forum post, and things began to veer off in a wildly absurd direction.

"My contract-bound wife keeps deliberately trying to seduce me. What should I do?"

In the post, the original poster painfully detailed his wife's endless "tactics." The more I read, the more agonizingly familiar the details sounded.

"She purposely showers right before I get home, walking back and forth through the living room in a silk nightgown. Does she really think that's enough to tempt me?"

"She times her cooking so a lavish spread is ready precisely when I get off work, then posts photos to her social media with the caption 'dinner for one,' hoping I'll feel guilty and pity her?"

"My surname is Chuyen, yet she intentionally adopted a cat and named it 'Chuyen Phu.' As if that wasn't glaringly obvious enough!"

I glanced down at the cat currently licking its paw beside me, slowly typing out a question mark. My precious baby was named Wealth and Prosperity, because I wanted to achieve massive wealth and prosperity! What on earth did that have to do with his last name?

I clutched my phone, checking and rechecking the screen. The poster went by the user ID "Refusing to Consume," and there was a ninety-percent chance it belonged to my cold, taciturn husband, Chuyen Mac Nghiem. This stark contrast between his stoic real-life persona and his frantic online whining was even more shocking than my bank account balance. Netizens lingering in the comment section were thoroughly entertained, howling with laughter and fueling the chaos.

"Poster, what exactly does your wife see in you? Is she enchanted by your advanced age, or by your stubborn refusal to take a bath?"

"It's painfully obvious you're overthinking everything and just trying to blame your wife for being too attractive."

"I'm dying of laughter. The poster is out here building an entire palace harem in his head, while his wife is probably just sitting on the couch watching cartoons."

The poster refused to back down: "Then how do you explain today, when she dressed up in a seductive outfit and lingered right outside my study, 'accidentally' dropping a book and bending over to pick it up? What was that about?"

Netizens replied with brutal bluntness: "Is there any possibility she was simply walking by? And if a book falls, what is she supposed to do—wait for it to sprout wings and fly back up by itself?"

I paused to reflect. I actually had been looking for something to read that afternoon. As I walked past the study, my hand had indeed slipped and dropped a book. To test my rising suspicions, I decided to lean into the chaos and play my part to the absolute fullest.

That evening, Chuyen Mac Nghiem returned home right on schedule at seven-thirty, as he always did. I did not wear the silk nightgown. Instead, I had slipped into a fluffy, all-in-one Pikachu onesie that had been gathering dust in the back of my closet, pulling the oversized hood firmly over my head. Afterward, I scooped up the cat, sat cross-legged on the living room sofa, and stared intensely at a children's animated show.

Chuyen Mac Nghiem stepped through the front door, his footsteps faltering for a fraction of a second. His gaze, framed by sleek wire-rimmed glasses, swept over my bizarre form, and his brow twitched slightly. Without uttering a word, he turned and marched straight up to the second floor.

I immediately whipped out my phone and refreshed the forum post. Sure enough, the poster had updated.

"She has upgraded her tactics once again! Today she’s wearing a full cartoon animal costume, trying to use innocent childishness to lower my guard! Does she really think that will make me drop my defenses? How naive!"

Attached was a stock photo of a Pikachu plushie he had scraped off the internet.

I stared at the screen: "..."

Alright, case solved.

I quickly registered a burner account with the username "Chuyen Phu is Getting Filthy Rich Today," and eagerly dropped a comment under the thread: "Stop deluding yourself, poster. Your wife is gorgeous; why on earth would she ever waste a glance on you? If you have photos, prove it!"

To provoke him further, I deliberately threw out a taunt: "I bet in real life you can't even get a woman to look at you, so you're just making up stories here for clout!"

My comment instantly derailed the conversation, steering the thread into a feeding frenzy.

"Oh true, the poster has been rambling for ages without dropping a single shred of proof. Is this just some grumpy old man making up wild fantasies to cope?"

"Pack it up, everyone. We thought we were witnessing the deep, agonizing struggles of the entertainment industry's crown prince, but it's just another keyboard warrior hallucinating."

Stung by the relentless mockery, the poster replied almost instantly: "Who says I don't have proof!"

The very next second, a brand-new image popped onto the screen. In the photo, a hand with sharply defined knuckles—a hand as flawless as a high-end model's—was holding a delicate coffee cup. On the wrist flashed a luxury Patek Philippe celestial complications watch, shimmering with exorbitant wealth under the warm lights.

I recognized it at a single glance. It was the exact timepiece Chuyen Mac Nghiem had worn just a few days ago. To protect his bruised ego, he was really going all out.

Yet, that still wasn't enough. I decided to stoke the flames even further: "It's just a watch. For all we know, you rented it. If you've got the guts, show us your physique! If you actually possess an eight-pack and a carved V-line, then maybe I'll believe you!"

Netizens instantly piled on, howling in agreement: "That's right! Show us the abs!"

"No abs, no right to speak. Go back to the construction site and carry bricks!"

"Waiting for the poster to get brutally slapped in the face, hehe."

Silence fell on the other end. I clutched my phone, gently stroking the cat's fur as I waited for the next act of the show. After nearly half an hour, just as I assumed he had tucked his tail between his legs and retreated, the thread suddenly updated with a short video file.