Wrong Marriage and Sweet Love

Seeing Joyce’s silence, Clint frowned slightly. He added, “I’m not as concerned about bloodlines as you think. Only your country cares about whether a child is biologically theirs. For me, the more, the better. Boys will take my surname, girls can take Chiyo’s surname, and I’ll let Iris inherit the Yoshikawa family.”

At this point, Clint looked deeply at Joyce. Half-jokingly, he said, “I have to admit, you are quite fertile.”

He didn’t continue, but he thought to himself that every time she had twins. She was a smart and capable woman who could prosper a family, a rare find.

Joyce’s face darkened, and she forced a laugh. “The back garden is here. Show me around.”

She deliberately avoided the topic, thinking Clint must be crazy. The more he spoke, the more outrageous he became. Not only did he have designs on her, but also on her four children. He wanted to take from her family and extend his reach into her in-laws’ family. How could he even think of that? The Yoshikawa family was his maternal family.

Talking to a lunatic was pointless. When she saved him, she thought he was normal. She hadn’t realized he had “mental” issues. It seemed the whole family had mental problems. For example, Athena was also a paranoid person. Clint wasn’t much better.

Reuben, on the other hand, inherited half of the Bryant family’s bloodline and seemed like a normal person. After meeting Reuben and because of Athena’s appearance, she learned some history about Rohomes. It was indeed a peculiar country that didn’t care about bloodlines. Who gave birth wasn’t important; what mattered was the surname. It was common to adopt or send one’s children to another family to inherit titles and status.

Marrying a woman with children was also common practice. As long as the surname changed, wealth, status, and identity were unaffected. They only cared about the surname. As long as one bore the surname, they had to stay close to the family and serve it.

In short, they valued family over bloodlines. Anyone who could strengthen the family would be heavily utilized and even allowed to inherit.

Clint didn’t say more and showed Joyce around. Since she had just arrived, he couldn’t push her too hard and decided to let her adapt to the environment first.

The back garden was large and filled with exquisite scenery: pools, bridges, pavilions, winding paths, and dry landscapes that harmonized movement and stillness.

As they strolled through the garden, Joyce probed, “Hey Clint, you have status and position, and you’re not young anymore. Why haven’t you married or had children?” It didn’t make sense; as the crown prince, he should have had heirs by now.

Could it be that he had some issues in certain areas?

Thinking of this, Joyce glanced at Clint with a strange look. He had congenital heart disease and had always been weak. Could he have problems in other areas too?

Clint seemed to understand her look and glared at her fiercely. “Don’t overthink it. Otherwise, I’ll make you test it out right now.”

Joyce was speechless. His intuition was sharp; he knew what she was thinking with just a glance.

“I haven’t met a woman worthy of me. Joyce, you’re the first,” Clint answered seriously.

Joyce awkwardly tugged at the corners of her mouth. She shouldn’t have brought up this topic.

So she quickly changed the subject. “You live here without electronic devices; don’t you feel uncomfortable? Can you get used to it?” She was genuinely curious. “When you were in Khebury, I saw you using your phone quite comfortably, and you could drive too. Oh wait, you’re originally someone who studies smart devices; how could you not use them for long periods?”

“I don’t always live here,” Clint replied calmly. “I stay here one or two days a month. Sometimes one or two days a week.”

Joyce’s face darkened further. So he didn’t always stay here and often went out to connect with the outside world. Yet he wanted her to live here in isolation? Was he trying to drive her mad?

“Hey, if you don’t want to live in this ghost place yourself, why make me stay?” she expressed her dissatisfaction.

Reuben paused his steps and turned to look at her. “I never said you had to stay here permanently. When I come here, you come; when I leave, you leave with me. I’m just here for a few days to handle some matters at East Palace, so I brought you along. We’ll leave the day after tomorrow.”

Joyce was stunned. If she had known they would leave this place in two days, she wouldn’t have fussed so much.

On second thought, she found it strange. As long as they weren’t here, she could find ways to contact the outside world. Could he be so confident?

She squinted her eyes and glanced at him thoughtfully, wondering what he was planning.

“If it’s just temporary, arrange another room for me,” she emphasized. “Anywhere but Imperial Villa.”

Clint gave her a sidelong glance. “You have another choice.”

“Where?” Joyce asked.

“My bedchamber,” Clint smiled lightly. “Would you like to share my bed every night?”

Joyce was speechless again.

She wanted to tear his face apart; it was infuriating.

“Fine, Imperial Villa it is,” Joyce waved her hand dismissively. It was just a room; no big deal.

“After the tour, I’ll go back to rest first. Also, I’m hungry; have someone send food to my room. And tell them not to kneel anymore; otherwise, who will serve me?” She indirectly pleaded for those people from earlier; kneeling all day would ruin their knees.

Besides, it was modern times; she felt uncomfortable with such practices.

Joyce wasn’t really asking Clint for permission. After speaking, she put her hands behind her back and walked forward without looking back or paying him any more attention.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

Clint stood behind her, watching her retreating figure thoughtfully.

He knew she wouldn’t be easy to tame but seemed even harder to handle than he had imagined. Just now, she almost escaped. He had overlooked that she was a sharpshooter; once she got hold of a gun, it would be her domain. And it would be hard for him to prevent that.

She had been quite polite earlier by not pointing the gun at him.

He clenched his fist slightly and narrowed his eyes; it seemed he needed other methods.

Though it would pain him to do so, there was no better option.

A gust of wind blew by with a chill.

Clint’s throat caught in the wind, making him cough a few times.

Standing tall in the wind, his handsome face showed a hint of paleness.