The Substitute Bride

01

When I got off work today, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-boyfriend.

My heart skipped a beat. His chat window kept showing "Typing..."

I silently prayed in my heart, hoping it was just a prank he was pulling on me, that this electronic invitation was nothing more than a fake link generated by some public account.

I waited and waited, but all I got were three simple words.

"Will you come?" he asked.

It felt like my heart had been hit by a heavy hammer.

It had only been six months since we broke up, and now he was standing there, smiling, holding another woman's hand and getting married...

Have you ever experienced something like this?

In your heart, it was just a cold war. You were expecting your boyfriend to give in and apologize, but what you ended up with was his wedding announcement.

I put my phone back in my bag, closed my eyes, and leaned against the subway seat. Thoughts of their wedding photos kept flooding my mind.

Over and over again.

I heard that the bride had returned from studying abroad. She had a very typical oval face, and when she smiled, her eyes and brows bore a subtle resemblance to mine.

As for the man standing next to her, I couldn’t be more familiar with him.

He was my boyfriend of four years.

The thought of how good he had been to me over those four years made my tears fall uncontrollably.

Our breakup was just the result of a prolonged cold war.

If it weren’t for the long-distance relationship, the bride standing next to him now should have been me.

I’m unwilling. I really can’t accept this.

02

We used to be considered the model couple in our social circle.

Along the way, he cherished me and spoiled me to no end, and all our friends saw it. My best friend even said, "Every couple in the world might break up, but not you two."

Honestly, I thought the same.

Back then, he went to great lengths to win me over, making quite a splash across the entire university district. No one in our year didn’t know about Xiang Jie’s legendary pursuit of a girl.

He said he first noticed me when he was slurping noodles at a food street and happened to see me and my classmates buying skewers across the way. He was shocked as he watched me eat with such gusto, oil dripping from my lips. For the first time in his life, he thought, A girl who eats like that must be great to live with.

After we got together, he even gave me the nickname "Piggy Darling," claiming it was a term of endearment for "the cutest foodie."

He said he originally wanted to ask for my WeChat, but when he turned around to pay, I was already gone.

The only useful information he got was overhearing bits of my conversation with my classmates, which confirmed I was a first-year student. But he didn’t know which school, what department, or even my name.

This was long after the days of social platforms like Renren. In such a sprawling university district with over a dozen universities, he started sneaking into one school after another, attending first-year classes department by department. If he got caught, he’d just run.

Eventually, he found me in the broadcasting department of S University. But he didn’t dare approach me directly, so he snuck into our classroom, planning to hand me a love letter after class.

What he didn’t expect was to be caught by our teacher. The teacher asked him what an outsider was doing in our classroom, and Xiang Jie, flustered, blurted out, “I want to meet a girl in your class, but I don’t know her name.”

The teacher, understanding what was going on, half-jokingly asked him who it was.

He pointed at me, plain and simple.

I was stunned. Before college, I’d never been in a relationship or even interacted much with boys. I never imagined someone would go to such lengths to pursue me.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t moved. But I was shy back then, and I rejected him outright.

However, he didn’t give up. After learning where I studied, he started showing up at my school every day. He even bribed the security guards and the dormitory supervisor. In the dead of winter, he’d stand outside my dorm for hours just to take me to a movie.

Eventually, my roommates couldn’t stand it anymore and started persuading me. They said he seemed reliable and that I should at least give him a chance to get to know him.

And that’s how I ended up boarding his pirate ship without even realizing it.

03

Xiang Jie was two years older than me, but neither of us had ever been in a relationship before.

He told me he once had a crush on a girl back in his hometown, but it was just one-sided and never went anywhere. So, I was his first real girlfriend.

Being two rookies at love, we stumbled through everything together. Holding hands, kissing — we made plenty of awkward mistakes.

Our first time was the funniest. By then, we’d been together for almost a year, but we were still stuck at just pecks on the lips, not even a proper French kiss.

I could tell he wanted more but didn’t dare to make a move.

Then, on my birthday, he invited me and my girlfriends to a karaoke party. Instead of trying to get me drunk, he drank himself silly, hoping to muster the courage.

But he overdid it and ended up throwing up instead.

That night, the four of us girls had to drag him out. We couldn’t take him back to the dorms, so we booked two rooms at a hotel nearby — one for him and me, and one for my three friends.

I barely slept that night because he kept vomiting, even bile by the end of it. It wasn’t until dawn that I managed to close my eyes for a bit.

When he woke up, he pretended to turn over and hug me. Then his hands started to wander. When I didn’t react, he nervously tried to unbutton my clothes.

I wasn’t actually asleep. He fumbled for ages but couldn’t get it undone, so he sat up and used both hands.

I asked him, “What are you doing?”

He was so nervous he stammered, “I’m worried you’ll get too hot sleeping in your clothes…”

I couldn’t help but laugh. It was freezing, and the room didn’t even have heating. Hot, my foot!

I turned away and ignored him. He didn’t dare make another move. After a while, he muttered to himself, “Why does my mouth taste so bitter?”

I didn’t respond.

After holding it in for a while, he added, “Can you taste it for me? I think it’s really bitter…”

I was both annoyed and amused. Just as I turned to call him out, he leaned in and kissed me, this time with his tongue.

Neither of us knew what we were doing. He fumbled around so much that he got frustrated, his face turning bright red. After nearly two hours of effort, we finally clumsily completed our “coming-of-age ceremony.”

Afterward, he held me and solemnly promised, “Piggy Darling, I’ll always treat you well.”

Those two years were the happiest days of our lives. He was endlessly indulgent, and I became more and more spoiled. When he was about to graduate, I became moody and difficult, picking fights for no reason. But no matter how much I acted out, he never lost his temper. He’d coax me once, twice, three times, however long it took for me to smile again.

His friends warned him not to spoil me too much, saying it would backfire someday.

But Xiang Jie just shut them down with one sentence: “If I don’t spoil my own girlfriend, who else will?”

At the time, I felt like I was living in a honey jar. Even the air around me tasted sweet.

But now, the man who once held me in the palm of his hand...

Is about to marry someone else.

04

The real conflict between us began after he graduated. He went back to his hometown for work, while I still had two years of school left.

Long-distance relationships are tough. We relied solely on WeChat and phone calls to keep our love alive.

But at least every morning when I opened my eyes, there was always a message from him.

“Piggy Darling, are you up yet? Don’t forget to eat breakfast.”

“Piggy Darling, it’s getting a bit chilly in Hangzhou. Make sure to dress warmly when you head to class.”

We were like virtual pets living on each other’s phones, needing constant care and attention to feel each other’s presence.

I wanted him to stay in Hangzhou for work, but his family had arranged a decent job for him back home, a stable position in the public sector. The chances of him quitting were slim to none.

We argued over it. It was the first time in our relationship that he didn’t go along with what I wanted.

To be honest, I didn’t really insist on him moving to Hangzhou. I just secretly hoped that after I graduated, we could settle down in my hometown and get married. But the longer he stayed at his job, the more stable it became, and the less likely he would be to leave two years later.

I brought it up with him once. He neither agreed nor disagreed, just saying, “Let’s decide when you graduate.”

But with two years until graduation, the future felt like it was being stretched endlessly by longing. During that time, the only thing I looked forward to was the holidays.

Most of the time, I would go to visit him. I’d take a four- or five-hour high-speed train to his city, and then we’d hole up in a hotel for a few days, inseparable.

Sometimes, we’d dream about the future together.

I told him that when we bought a house, we had to have a big kitchen. He’d laugh and tease me, calling me a glutton as always.

He said he wanted a spacious room for a high-performance computer and a comfy gaming chair. If we ever fought, he’d lock himself in the room and play games all night.

We talked about everything, from our future home to having kids — how many we’d have, what names we’d give them.

Once, during one of our visits, I half-jokingly asked him, “What if we broke up?”

“That won’t happen,” he said.

“But what if?” I teased, grinning. “What if one day I don’t want you anymore?”

“Then I’d find someone who looks like you and just make do with the rest of my life,” he replied.

At the time, I thought it was just a joke. I lunged at him, laughing and pretending to strangle him.

I never imagined that one day this joke would actually come true.

05

I think he still loves me. Otherwise, how could the bride standing next to him now really bear my resemblance?

After he announced his wedding, a lot of old friends I hadn’t heard from in ages reached out to congratulate me, wishing us a happy marriage.

I had to explain to each of them, one by one, that we had already broken up.

They were all shocked. “No way. But the bride looks so much like you.”

Everyone said the same thing.

I knew it, too. She really did look a lot like me.

Thinking back to what he once said — that if we broke up, he’d find someone like me to settle for — my feelings were a jumble. There was bitterness, regret, resentment, and even a faint, sour sense of pride.

The bride he chose was nothing more than my substitute.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t shake this stubborn impulse to attend their wedding.

Even when I received the invitation, I still believed that his love for me was real.

Maybe it’s the inexplicable confidence that exes often have. I even thought that as long as I took his hand on the day of the wedding, he would definitely leave with me.

06

It all goes back to that argument a year ago. If I hadn’t been so stubborn back then, we’d be the ones getting married now.

A year ago, just when it seemed like the struggles of our long-distance relationship were about to end, his work got busier and busier. Overtime and social engagements piled up. I was busy too, preparing for my thesis defense and graduation.

I can’t remember exactly when it started, but his morning texts stopped coming. Phone calls grew infrequent. Even when I called, he was either already on the phone or in a meeting.

One day, I came down with a fever while alone in my dorm. Every bone in my body ached as if it had been broken apart.

Lying in bed, I texted him.

One minute, three minutes, ten minutes... no reply.

I sent another message, but it disappeared into the void.

Finally, I couldn’t hold back and called him.

He answered, saying he was in a meeting and would call me later.

In that moment, all my bottled-up frustration exploded. I yelled into the phone, “A meeting, a meeting! Why the hell do you have so many meetings? I’m here at school, practically dying, and have you ever cared about me?!”

He went silent on the other end of the line, and the only sound through the receiver was my broken sobs.

He’d never been like this before. No matter what, he’d always caved when I cried. But this time, he didn’t. There was only silence in return.

I hung up, crying, cursing him under the covers.

A few minutes later, he sent me a message:
“I’m sorry, Piggy Darling. Things have been really tough for me lately. Work is so overwhelming I can barely breathe. Please take good care of yourself and don’t make me worry.”

I threw my phone to the foot of the bed in anger and didn’t reply.

I was waiting—waiting for more apologies, for more remorse. If he really felt sorry, he’d make more effort to comfort me—at the very least, he’d take some time off to visit me.

That evening, I sent him a screenshot of the weekend train schedule.

The message was clear: I wanted him to come see me.

He called me back shortly after, explaining that he really couldn’t make it, that things were too hectic, and he had no time.

I was furious and yelled, “If you don’t come this time, don’t bother coming ever again.”

He tried to explain further, but I hung up on him.

At that time, I was so busy with graduation that I ignored him for days. My responses became short and infrequent, and as a result, his messages grew even fewer.

We gradually slipped into a prolonged cold war.

I didn’t really want to fight. I was just hoping he’d soften, show me that he still loved and cared about me.

After my thesis defense, I could have gone to see him. But I was still angry and deliberately told him I was busy with family matters and couldn’t visit.

Honestly, if he’d said, “I miss you,” I would’ve dropped everything and rushed to him. But he didn’t. He just replied calmly, “I understand.”

My heart dropped into an icy abyss.

This time, I decided to punish him properly.

During our cold war, I deliberately posted intimate photos with other male friends on my Weibo, hoping to make him jealous, to provoke him into a rage. But my phone remained silent.

The colder it got, the longer we fought, and the harder it was to break the silence.

I just wanted him to understand what it felt like to be ignored. But somehow, the silence dragged on until we ended up breaking up.

07

While I thought we were still in the midst of a cold war, he quickly found someone new.

I saw their photo on his Weibo. He was smiling so radiantly in the picture, while the girl — who bore a striking resemblance to me — playfully made a peace sign over his forehead.

My heart stopped.

“Then I’ll just find someone who looks like you and make do with the rest of my life,” he had once joked.

I never thought he would actually follow through on that joke.

Even though it felt like my heart and every organ in my body were being torn apart, I still told myself to stay composed.

I remembered that I’d posted photos with other guys on Weibo not long ago. Maybe he was just trying to get back at me.

I deliberately liked his post, as if to say “noted,” and waited for him to reach out and explain.

One day, two days, a week passed. He never contacted me.

I thought back to our previous fights. Not even an hour could pass without him reaching out, even if I blocked him on WeChat or ignored his calls. He always found a way to get through to me.

This time, there was nothing.

I lost my mind. That night, I called up some friends to drink and sing karaoke, posting it all on my social media.

Still, there was no response.

This time, I couldn’t hold back.

“Your new girlfriend seems nice,” I texted him, feigning casualness under the influence of alcohol.

“Thanks,” he replied shortly, adding a smiley emoji.

That confirmed it for me. He was trying to provoke me.

After four years of being spoiled without limits, I was convinced that if I lowered my pride and tried to win him back, he’d come running. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I foolishly thought that if I gave in even once, it would only embolden him to take advantage of me in the future.

I became obsessive, almost neurotic. Every day, I stalked his WeChat Moments and Weibo like a crazed voyeur. Aside from that initial photo, he never posted anything else about her.

I began to relax, waiting patiently for their inevitable breakup.

But what I didn’t expect was that the next update I’d see would be his wedding announcement.

08

He posted his wedding invitation in a mutual friends’ group chat. The chat was flooded with congratulations, and even some old friends messaged me privately to offer their blessings.

I opened our private chat. The last message was from months ago.

“Your new girlfriend seems nice.”

“Thanks.”

Back then, I was convinced he was just trying to provoke me. Now, those two lines were glaringly painful.

“You’re getting married?” I typed, my hands trembling, and hit send.

He forwarded the link to the digital invitation. The chat window displayed “Typing...” over and over.

“Will you come?” he asked.

“Do you want me to?” I replied, sitting on the subway as my vision blurred.

“I want your blessing. But if you don’t come, I’ll understand…”

“I’ll come.” I quickly typed the words, tears streaming uncontrollably.

A year ago, I was the one lying in his arms.

A year ago, we were still discussing how to decorate our future home.

“What if we broke up?”

“That won’t happen.”

“But what if one day I don’t want you anymore?”

“Then I’ll just find someone who looks like you and make do with the rest of my life.”

But… I never thought of not wanting you.

It was all just a misunderstanding, wasn’t it?

I’m the one you love, right?

09

It all felt like a dream, happening so fast.

I took a high-speed train for several hours to his city. Everything felt both familiar and strange.

I admired my own courage to attend the wedding. Before coming, I had clung to a strange sense of superiority as his ex. After all, wasn’t the bride nothing more than a stand-in for me?

But stepping into the opulent hotel, seeing the grand hall filled with their wedding photos, I felt like I had finally woken up from the dream.

The English words on the posters were like needles piercing my eyes: Welcome to Jason & Blanche’s Wedding.

Jason. He even changed his name to something foreign for his overseas-educated bride.

I laughed bitterly to myself, the irony tinged with sadness. Half of my confidence evaporated before the event had even begun.

10

The June air was stifling, almost suffocating.

Familiar faces from our shared past floated around the room. Afraid of their knowing glances, I quickly left the groom’s side of the room and sat among the bride’s guests.

From a distance, I watched him greet friends and relatives with a radiant smile. I couldn’t believe I was really at his wedding, about to witness the man who once loved me like his life now holding someone else’s hand and stepping into marriage.

I pretended to scroll through my phone, trying to appear indifferent, but my eyes burned, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“Blanche looks stunning today,” someone at the table whispered.

My dwindling confidence took another hit. I finally realized that coming here was a terrible mistake.

“Piggy Darling, I love you so much.” I stumbled across an old comment he’d left under one of my Weibo posts. My tears finally broke free.

The wedding officiant had already begun the ceremony. I couldn’t even muster the courage to lift my head and look.

At last, I understood. There was no going back for us.

It was my childish pride that had slowly pushed him away, step by step, into someone else’s arms.

It didn’t matter whether she was my substitute. She was the one he ultimately chose, the one he would spend his life with.

After the vows, the officiant asked him, “What is the one thing the groom wants to say most right now?”

The hall erupted in laughter and cheers. No one noticed the tear-streaked woman hiding in the corner.

“Piggy Darling, I love you so much!” he shouted into the microphone.

Startled, I looked up. The bride covered her face, laughing joyfully.

Thunderous applause filled the room, and the two women next to me clapped especially hard.

“The groom is so romantic. Honestly, how many men nowadays would wait for someone for over a decade?”

“Exactly. If Blanche hadn’t gone abroad, they’d probably have been together since high school.”

Shaking, I opened the invitation on my phone, the one I hadn’t read closely before. On the last page, the bride’s Chinese name was printed in bold letters: Zhu Bao’er.

“When did the bride return to China?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Over a year ago. As soon as she came back, the groom pursued her relentlessly.”

“Yeah, I heard he broke up with his girlfriend of four years without a second thought just to be with her.”

The woman beside me gave me a curious glance. “Hey, you know what? You actually look a lot like the bride…”

So, she wasn’t the stand-in. I was.

He wasn’t settling for someone who looked like me. He had always been searching for someone who looked like her.

If not for her, everyone else was just a stand-in.

And I was the one he settled for.

It turns out… I was the stand-in all along.