The Clingy Contract: My CEO Husband Won't Stop Spoiling Me

Tang Suiyu signs her name on the imperial marriage decree with a steady hand and a numb heart. A political match to the legendary CEO Ye Gushen—frost in a tailored suit, eyes like a closed door. She tells herself it’s just a contract. No love, no expectations, no disappointments.

Then, one lazy evening, she yawns and murmurs, half to herself, “It’s getting chilly.”

The following morning, delivery trucks clog the driveway. Coats, scarves, sweaters in every shade of autumn spill across their bedroom like fallen leaves. Ye Gushen only glances at her surprise and says, in that cool, unreadable tone, “Be good.”

She praises the taste of green grapes; within days, she’s the legal owner of more vineyards than she can visit in a year. Someone online claims she isn’t worthy of him; by the end of the week, that person’s name has vanished from every circle that matters, like chalk wiped from a board.

Piece by extravagant piece, Suiyu realizes the truth: the man she thought was made of ice has been quietly, relentlessly rearranging the world to keep a soft place ready for her to land.

Their marriage starts as a signature on paper, two people bound by decree and duty. It turns into late‑night phone calls answered on the first ring, silent car rides where his hand finds hers at every red light, and a fortress of shameless, over-the-top pampering that no critic, no rumor, no jealous whisper can breach.

By the time she dares to call herself Mrs. Ye without flinching, the contract is the least of what ties them together—and walking away would mean tearing down the sweetest life she never meant to have.