In the dead of night, my arch-nemesis suddenly sent me a shirtless pic. Three seconds later, he followed up: [Oops, my hand slipped.] Another three seconds: [Did you see it? It's a picture of my abs.] [They're mine, not someone else's.] [Hello? You there?] [Forget it, I'll just delete it. Good thing you didn't see.] [Damn, it won't delete. So annoying!] [You're not allowed to look!] [OMG, so embarrassing, don't you dare look!] [Did you hear me?! I said DON'T LOOK!] Me: "..." 1 The hashtag #KiraJiangGetsCatfishedLive trended on social media, and for once in my life, I actually felt a flicker of shame. It all started on a live variety show earlier that night. During one of the game segments, my phone screen was projected onto a massive display for everyone to see. The challenge was to post a dramatic, angsty status and see which of our friends would be the first to show concern. But the moment my post went up, a message popped in. It was a steamy, artfully taken photo of a chiseled six-pack, accompanied by a text: [Kira, I think I got a mosquito bite right here. It’s so itchy.] [Do you have any cream you'd recommend?] The studio audience erupted in a chorus of whoops and whistles. Belatedly, I glanced at the contact name: "Sweet Tummy 185." A guy I'd randomly added at a bar a few weeks ago. He had a habit of sending flirty messages, but tonight, he’d clearly decided to throw all caution to the wind and send a shirtless pic. Putting on a brave face, I turned to the host. "Does this count as concern?" "Not quite," he chirped. "He has to actually say he's concerned." Left with no choice, I steeled myself and typed back: [Just scratch it.] [Weird, it still itches.] [Maybe I need your hand to scratch it for me. (blushing emoji)] I took a deep breath. A glance at the giant screen showed the live comments going absolutely wild. [OMG! Is this something I should be watching?!] [This "Sweet Tummy 185" knows how to play the game.] [Watching a celebrity get hit on live is killing me LOL.] [So this is what a star's private life is like! I can't even imagine what happens behind closed doors…] The comments were spiraling. Panicked that he might say something even more explicit, I quickly typed: [I'm on a live broadcast.] Sweet Tummy 185: *[...] * [Damn, it won't delete. So annoying!] [Everyone in the live stream, you're not allowed to look!] [OMG, so embarrassing, Kira, quick, cover me up, don't let them see me!] The screen filled with "LMAO," and the ridiculous episode finally came to an end. I'd expected to trend, but seeing it happen still made my cheeks burn with a humiliation so intense it felt like I'd been stripped naked in a crowd. I tossed my phone aside and escaped into the shower. When I came out, my phone pinged. I glanced over. It was from my sworn enemy, Peter Gu, who was supposed to be on a business trip overseas. It was a mirror selfie of his own impressive abs. Compared to Sweet Tummy’s, Peter's physique had a raw, powerful energy. A single vein traced a path down his torso, making it almost indecent to stare. I was about to type a question mark when his message came through. [Oops, my hand slipped.] I rolled my eyes. What a pathetic excuse. I wasn't buying it for a second. I left my phone on the chat screen, curious to see what game he was playing. Three seconds later, another message. [Did you see it? It's a picture of my abs.] [They're mine, not someone else's.] [Hello? You there?] [Forget it, I'll just delete it. Good thing you didn't see.] [Damn, it won't delete. So annoying!] [You're not allowed to look!] [OMG, so embarrassing, don't you dare look!] [Did you hear me?! I said DON'T LOOK!] "..." The déjà vu was so strong it was nauseating. A surge of anger washed over me, and I dialed his number. "Peter Gu, are you insane?" 2 His laughter on the other end was carefree and loud. "Did you really just message me to make fun of me?" I fumed. "I wouldn't dare." He was still chuckling. "But seriously, who is that kid? Doesn't he have any sense? Sending you a picture like that when he knows you're live on air." "Huh?" I paused. "I don't think he knew." "Even I knew you were going to be on that show, and I'm halfway across the world. How could he not know?" Peter scoffed. "Use your brain, Kira." "..." "Idiot." "Whatever. He's not that great anyway," Peter continued, his tone dismissive. "You can tell just from his abs he's all show and no go. All oiled up and preening. When did you get into that type?" I bristled at the insult to my taste. "Oh yeah? And what type should I be into? Yours?" "My type is great," he said, completely shameless. "Great in what way?" There was a beat of silence, and then his voice dropped, low and suggestive. "You'll know once you've tried it." "Not interested!" I shot back. "I'd try 'Sweet Tummy 185' a hundred times before I ever tried you." I hung up before he could respond. I thought the whole thing would blow over, a funny meme for fans and the public to laugh at for a day or two. I did not expect it to result in my parents setting up an arranged marriage for me. Their reasoning was that the entertainment industry was a cesspool of moral decay, and even a "pure, innocent girl" like me was being corrupted. It was better to lock me down with someone from a good, familiar family. I refused, stubbornly. But then my father delivered the final blow: "Then you can quit showbiz altogether. Come home, and stop embarrassing the family." "..." And just like that, I was being pushed into an arranged marriage. On the way to the restaurant to meet my potential fiancé, I couldn't resist venting to Peter. [You're not going to believe this, I'm being set up!] [And it's all because of that Sweet Tummy guy from yesterday!] [My parents think I'm being 'corrupted' and are forcing me to marry someone 'we know.' But who do we even know?] [Please don't let it be Brandon Zhou.] [...Oh God! I mean, I had a crush on him in high school, but that was ages ago!] [Oh no, I just saw Ethan Cheng's latest post. He's also being set up. He's not hinting at me, is he?] I texted Peter a running commentary of my panic, speculating about every eligible guy in our social circle. I didn't know who my suitor was, but I knew I didn't want to marry any of them. I sat in the restaurant, waiting. Seven o'clock came and went. He was late. I was about to leave when the waiter stopped me. "Miss Jiang, please wait a little longer. The gentleman will be here shortly." "And who is 'the gentleman'?" The waiter just smiled politely and retreated. I picked up my phone to text Peter again. [Ugh, what kind of guy is late to his own arranged marriage meeting? I'd rather die than marry him!] The words had barely left my thumbs when the door to the private room opened. Peter Gu walked in, phone in hand. He wore a dark trench coat over a crisp shirt and trousers that made his legs look impossibly long. His tie was slightly loosened, and his hair was artfully messy. He saw me and a slow smile spread across his face. "Sorry, traffic was a nightmare. I got here as fast as I could." My jaw dropped. "Aren't you supposed to be overseas?" He raised an eyebrow. "My parents insisted on an arranged marriage. Of course I had to come back." He stopped by the table, his thumb swiping up his phone screen. He read through my entire stream of frantic texts, then looked up at me. "So, you're not happy with any of them. What about me?" "You have to ask?" He let out a low chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes. We'll get the marriage license tomorrow." "?" 3 "Are you out of your mind?" I hissed. "Which part of that sounded like a 'yes' to you? I'm least happy with you!" "Hmm?" Peter sat down across from me, looking genuinely curious. "What's not to like?" "Everything!" He just smiled. "Well, I'm quite happy with you." I stared at him, frowning. Had he been possessed by an alien? This was not the Peter I knew. The sun must be rising in the west. Why wasn't he arguing with me? He beckoned me closer with a flick of his finger. Reluctantly, I leaned in. His voice, clean and crisp, whispered in my ear. "Before you, my parents had another candidate lined up for me." "Who?" "Tiffany Tang." My heart gave a strange little squeeze. "Tiffany's been in love with you for years. Wouldn't that have been perfect?" "Of course not," he said, as if it were obvious. "She likes me. Marrying her would be doing her a favor." He poured himself a glass of water, his movements unhurried. "An arranged marriage should be with someone you have no feelings for. Someone you mutually dislike, even. It's a business transaction. You can't mix business with pleasure, can you?" He pushed the glass of water across the table to me. "Right?" By that logic, he and I were the perfect match. The thought flashed through my mind and was just as quickly dismissed. What was I even thinking? "I'm not going to marry you," I stated firmly. Peter was unperturbed. "Fine. Then marry Brandon Zhou. He's a good guy. And you had a crush on him in high school. So what if he rejected you? Your first love becomes your husband. It's a win-win for—" "Stop!" I couldn't listen to another word. My pride was a fragile, precious thing. Ever since Brandon had turned me down, my crush had curdled into something akin to embarrassment. The memory was now a dark spot on my history. Marrying him was out of the question. Peter smiled. "Alright, then. Ethan Cheng it is. He's a bit of a player, but otherwise, he's—" "Are all the other men on earth dead?" I snapped. "Sweet Tummy 185?" he feigned surprise. "I don't think your parents would approve." "..." Forget my parents. I wouldn't approve. Peter took a slow sip of water. "So, when you look at all the options, I'm the best one, right?" "Best in what way?" "I'll give you freedom," he said, his eyes meeting mine. "You want to look at handsome guys, go ahead. You want to stay in the entertainment industry, be my guest. You want to try extreme sports, go for it. I won't interfere." He laid his cards on the table, then rubbed his temples as if exhausted. "After all, I'm just getting married for some peace and quiet." "Isn't Tiffany quiet?" "She's been obsessed with me for years. If we got married, she'd manage my life down to the last second. Where's the peace in that?" I was silent, my resolve beginning to waver. Freedom. It was something I craved more than anything. As an only child, I'd been suffocated by my family's overprotective nature. No dangerous sports, no staying out late. Even my career in showbiz was something I'd had to fight tooth and nail for. I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be untethered. "You really wouldn't interfere?" I asked, searching his eyes for any hint of a lie. "I'm so busy I barely have time to go home," he said. "How would I have time to manage you?" I thought about his insane, globe-trotting schedule, and suddenly, the idea of marrying him didn't seem so bad. Marrying a man who was never home… what was the difference between that and being single? "So?" Peter prompted. "Want to give me a try?" I hesitated for a few seconds, then a thrill of rebellion shot through me. "I'm in."
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