After Becoming A Popular Girl, I Choose My Husband On Planet X - Chapter 1 - When I opened my eyes, why was I being forced to choose my husband?

Wen Nuannuan’s eyelids fluttered, and a faint fragrance wafted through her nose—like some peculiar flower or herb, mingled with a cold metallic scent, assaulting her senses. She instinctively wrinkled her nose, but the touch of her fingertips made her pause—silk? Softer than silk, smoother than silk, as if stroking the belly of a cat just bathed and stretched out in the sun.

Wait—wasn’t she just struck by some unscrupulous sports car on the zebra crossing?

She shot her eyes open, only to meet a face so stunningly handsome it defied biology.

That face… damn, it was too perfect.

His silver-gray eyes gleamed like cold stars; his features were deep and sharp. His sword-like brows merged into his temples, nose proud and straight, lips thin and poised. He wore a perfectly tailored uniform that seemed both military and aristocratic, his waist straight, aura full-on—like an ice-chill male lead who’d stepped right out of a comic book.

If she’d just been knocked off course, now she was getting a full-frontal bombardment of hot looks.

She stared blankly, her brain lagging—in the respectful yet not-to-be-argued tone of the man: “Miss, you’re finally awake. The union-selection ceremony is about to begin. Please change clothes as soon as possible.”

Wen Nuannuan: “Huh? What? …?”

In an instant, her terror shifted to existential doubt. She quickly touched her face—it was still hers. No plastic surgery. No reincarnation trope. Her voice, her temperature, the feeling—all real. This… couldn’t be some high-end prank reality show, could it? Or perhaps alien technology staging a full immersion love game?

“Select husband ceremony? Who am I? Where is here? Are you from some scam ring?” She eyed the overly handsome man warily and shrank back toward the corner of the bed.

Confusion flickered across the attendant’s face, but he quickly regained professional composure: “You are Miss Wen Nuannuan, sole heir of an S+ level noble house. Your status is exalted, your bloodline pure, your merits outstanding. Today is your first adult ‘husband-picking ceremony.’ Per rules, you must select five official fiancés from three hundred S‑level and above male candidates.”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Wen Nuannuan felt her brain had fried.

Time travel she could accept—she was a seasoned novel reader after all—but traveling just to be asked, as a 21-year-old virgin, to pick a husband on the spot? And from three hundred suitors? Her head felt like mush.

This is like fast-forwarding her entire romance education. Who’s gonna give her a tutorial on dating and a manual for each candidate?!

“You—three hundred people?!” Her voice cracked. She trembled; the blanket slipped off, revealing a pure white hollowed gown underneath.

A rose emblem embroidered in gold at the chest, the skirt floor-length, airy like clouds, and a shimmering necklace and hairpiece that dazzled her vision. For a moment she wondered if she hadn’t woken up but been dropped into some live-streamed royal wedding makeup tutorial.

“What’s this, a princess costume? Why do I look like a walking cake… a limited-edition wedding version?” she muttered, fingertips tugging at the gown’s edge, wanting to curl into a ball.

But the attendant, ignoring her meltdown, calmly added: “This is only the preliminary round. The top thirty candidates will gain the opportunity to spend three days with you. Based on your preferences and compatibility, the final five fiancés will be determined. If you truly cannot decide, you may ask the head of the family to grant a ‘delayed final selection’ to show prudence.”

Wen Nuannuan: “…What?”

She felt herself being pressure-cooked alive.

Taking a deep breath, she forced calm, while her mind went into overdrive:

—This is straight out of a novel’s opening arc! Not cool to play this on an introverted otaku girl!

—Three hundred guys vying for her. Do I judge appearance first? Body? Intelligence?

Her head spun, but she clung to a shred of sense.

Alright. If you’re gonna play, might as well play.

She didn’t know if she could return, and if she might pick a handsome, obedient husband and form a couple, maybe it wasn’t the worst ending?

She cast a quick glance at the attendant—too handsome to be a mere attendant. The candidates must be even more stunning?

Covering her face, she thought: No… stay composed. Don’t marinate in crush vibes… but they’re all so gorgeous…

Wen Nuannuan was propped into a circular chair by several attendants. A giant transparent screen rose before her, a holographic display swiping open like a galactic library powering up.

Three hundred candidate men appeared in sequence, each looking like luxury boutique models: height, age, gene purity, battle records, family rank… hundreds of pages of dense data, the scene filled with mysterious, serious tech vibes.

She stared blankly at the dazzling menu of handsome options—her brain nearly crashed.

This looked way too much like a dating app’s interface on Earth, except upgraded with interstellar tech: gene compatibility, strategic pairing coefficient, reproductive fitness report—ridiculous metrics that Earth romance never cared about.

She instinctively cupped her face, voice dreamy: “These… all came to pursue me?”

“Yes, Miss.” The attendant bowed. “As heir of an S+ noble house, you have absolute control in choosing. Once you select them, they’ll enter a ‘three-day sincere cohabitation trial’ so you may really evaluate their qualities and fit.”

Wen Nuannuan: “…”

Before she could respond, a “ding” popped up in the screen’s lower right. One profile jumped forward and snared her soul.

Not because it looked familiar—because it was her exact match.

A man in the image was reading documents, dark blue shirt slightly open at the collar; clean, gentle features, eyes calm as moonlight, like the dream-school-senior-who‑waits‑with‑roses-you‑never‑had—but always imagined.

Her eyes lit up, she clasped her heart and smiling uncontrollably.

This was the ideal type she’d fantasized about in romance daydreams:

Reserved, scholarly vibe. Standing quietly in the library data room. Even his breathing wouldn’t disturb anyone.

She hugged herself like grabbing a BOGO ice cream deal on Earth: “That’s him! I choose Ye Yibai!”

The attendants around froze. The head attendant twitched an eyelid, stepped forward cautiously: “Miss… Ye Yibai may be handsome, but he’s only B+ rank. Marrying down could be seen as ‘lowering status,’ which might harm the Bai family’s reputation…”

Wen Nuannuan waved dismissively, fanning the air: “Rank B+ or not, he’s handsome! I’m not recruiting generals or building an army—I’m looking for love. Looks are the whole deal!”

Attendant: “…” Looks are the whole deal?

She self-righteously added: “You want military achievement? Fine. I want handsome. Let’s not interfere. Are those S-level uncles who look like high‑bl00d‑pressure‑meeting minutes any better? No thanks.”

The air froze again—awkward enough to hear the tech wall clock tick.

Not satisfied, she kept scrolling.

Next came a man whose very presence overshadowed the screen:

Dressed in black-and-gold uniform, on a million-soldiers drill deck, statue-like expression, icy gaze. From above, overseeing the whole army like a cold sculpture—able to slow one’s heartbeat from a glance.

She stared for three seconds, felt her ears burn; by the fourth, she moved a finger: “That’s him. Gao Muting. He probably won’t yammer on. Cold-as-fridge men should be easy to live with—like five words a day conversation top.”

The attendant’s corner of mouth twitched; voice quivered: “Miss, you… you’ve picked only two…?”

Wen Nuannuan: “Yep.”

Attendant: “But by rule, you can choose up to five official candidates…?”

Wen Nuannuan: “Five sounds too tiring.” Innocently: “I just trans‑what’d‑I‑say‑happen, my head’s not ready. Let’s start with two for trial, thanks.”

Three seconds of silence—then:

“Miss, your free‑form approach is… radical!”

“Aren’t you supposed to choose three from S+ for the family’s approval?”

“And why downgrade to B+? Where does that leave the S‑level handsome legends?”

“There’s Gao Muting too?! That’s the cold-faced war god. He sees everyone as enemies!”

She shrugged, brows up: “You don’t get it. I’m the most logical one here when romances involved. I pick feelings, not the leaderboard!”

As if calm ever looked like this.

She then casually hit the confirm button.

[Husband Selection Confirmed]

[Ye Yibai (B+), Gao Muting (A+) officially entered the candidate list]

[Data syncing to the entire star network… transmitting.]

Next moment, the entire aristocratic world of planet X exploded.

Social media crashed, hashtags like #BaiZixinHusbandChoice and #LowerRankLoveBrain shot to #1 trending.

Meanwhile, Wen Nuannuan leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, smirk on her face—like a girl who just scored two packs of discounted snacks in a supermarket.

She stroked her chin, happily whispering:

“Hmm… Which fiancé should I start the ‘three-day trial’ with?”

“First, the ice-queen face military officer, or the dream‑letter‑like science guy?”

Her eyes sparkled; a mischievous smile tugged at her lips.

—This time travel isn’t a loss—it’s so sweet it’s practically scented.

Wen Nuannuan’s eyelids fluttered, and a light fragrance drifted into her nose—like some strange floral scent, mingled with the coldness of metal, assaulting her sense of smell. She instinctively wrinkled her nose, but the texture her fingertips felt made her pause—silk? Softer than silk, smoother than silk, as if stroking the belly of a cat just washed and stretched flat in the sun.

Wait—hadn’t she just been knocked off the zebra crossing by an unscrupulous sports car?

She suddenly opened her eyes—and met a face so handsomely perfect it defied biology.

That face… damn, it broke all biological rules.

His silver-gray eyes glowed like cold stars, his features deep and sculpted; sword-like brows blended into his temples, a high straight nose, thin lips pressed slightly. He wore a tailored uniform, half military, half aristocratic; his waist impeccable, aura fully manifest—like an ice-cold male lead stepped out of a comic book.

If what happened earlier was getting knocked away, now it was a full-on bombardment with looks.

She stared blankly, mind offline, while he spoke in a respectful tone that brooked no denial: “Miss, you are finally awake. The Husband Selection Ceremony is about to begin; please change clothes as soon as possible.”

Wen Nuannuan: “Hm? What? …?”

In an instant, her fear turned into existential confusion. She touched her face—it was still hers. No plastic surgery, no reincarnation tropes. Her voice, her warmth, the touch—all real. This… wouldn’t be some high-end prank reality show, right? Or some immersive alien romance simulation?

“Select husband? Who am I? Where am I? Are you a scam group agent?” she said, looking warily at the overly handsome man, shrinking back toward the corner of the bed.

A flicker of confusion passed through the attendant’s eyes, but he quickly resumed professional calm: “You are Miss Wen Nuannuan, sole heir of an S+ level noble family. Your status is exalted, your bloodline pure, your achievements illustrious. Today is your first Husband Selection Ceremony upon adulthood. By regulation, you must choose five official fiancés from three hundred S-level and above male candidates.”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Wen Nuannuan felt her brain frying.

Time travel she could handle—she was a seasoned novel reader after all—but traveling only to be told, as a 21-year-old virgin, to pick a husband on the spot? Starting with three hundred suitors? Her head might as well become mush.

This was like fast-forwarding her entire romance learning curve. Who’s giving her a dating tutorial and a manual for each candidate?

“You said three hundred people?!” Her voice cracked; her hands trembled and the bedcover slipped off, revealing a snowwhite hollowed-out long formal dress underneath.

A rose emblem embroidered with gold thread adorned the chest, the skirt trailing to the floor, light as cloud; the shimmering necklace and hair ornament made her eyes blur. For an instant she wondered if she hadn’t woken but was in some livestream royal wedding styling tutorial.

“What is this princess attire? Why am I liking a walking cake… a wedding-limited edition version?” she whispered. Her fingertips twitched at the hem of the dress. She wanted to curl up into a ball.

But the attendant ignored her meltdown and calmly added: “Today is only the preliminary round. The top thirty candidates will earn the chance to spend three days with you. Based on your preferences and compatibility, your final five fiancés will be selected. If you really find it hard to decide, you may petition the family head to grant a ‘delayed final selection’ as a sign of prudence.”

Wen Nuannuan: “…Huh?”

She felt her whole body was cooking inside a pressure cooker.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself calm while her mind whirled:

— This is like something from a novel’s opening. You can’t just throw an introverted otaku girl into this!

— Three hundred guys chasing her. Should I look at looks first? Body? Intelligence?

Her head spun, but she managed to hold onto a shred of reason.

Alright then, go with the flow.

She didn’t know if she could return, and if she could pick a handsome, obedient husband and form a CP (couple pairing), maybe it wouldn’t be the worst outcome?

She stole a glance at the attendant—so handsome, just an attendant? What must the candidates look like?

Wen Nuannuan covered her small face: No… stay calm, don’t fangirl on the spot… but they’re all so handsome…

Attendants propped Wen Nuannuan into a circular seat. In front of her, a huge transparent screen gently rose, the hologram swiping open, as if a whole interstellar library had activated.

Three hundred male candidates appeared one after another, each looking like a luxury boutique model: height, age, gene purity, battle record, family rank—dense data over hundreds of pages, the screen radiating a mysterious, serious sci-fi vibe.

Wen Nuannuan stared dumbfounded at the dazzling roster of handsome suitors, her brain nearly fried.

The interface reminded her of a dating app—earth version—but upgraded with interstellar tech: gene compatibility, strategic pairing coefficient, reproductive fitness report… absurd metrics that Earth romance apps never even considered.

She cupped her face with her palm, voice dreamlike: “All of these people… came to pursue me?”

He nodded respectfully: “Yes, Miss. As the heir to an S+ noble house, you hold absolute choice. Once selected, they will undergo a ‘three-day sincere cohabitation trial’ so you may truly understand their qualities and compatibility.”

Wen Nuannuan: “…”

Just as she opened her mouth, a chime sounded from the lower right of the screen, and one profile leapt into focus, capturing her soul.

Not because it was familiar—but because it was her instant pin.

The image showed a man reading documents, his dark blue shirt slightly open at the collar, features clean and gentle, eyes calm as moonlight—like the kind of school senior from your dreams, waiting with roses after class.

Wen Nuannuan’s eyes lit up; she clasped her hands to her chest, her lips curling upward uncontrollably.

This was her dream type come to life from romance fantasies:

Cool aura, scholarly, silent in the library’s data room—so quiet even his breathing wouldn’t disturb anyone.

Her excitement burst like finding a two-for-one ice cream deal on Earth: “He’s it! I pick Ye Yibai!”

The surrounding attendants froze, the lead attendant’s eyelid flickered, and he cautiously approached: “Miss… Ye Yibai may be handsome, but he’s only rank B+. Marrying below your level may be seen as a ‘downgrade’, which might affect the Bai family’s reputation…”

Wen Nuannuan waved dismissively, fanning the air: “So what if it’s B+? He’s handsome! I’m not drafting an army. Love is not about recruiting generals—it’s about attraction. Beauty is the only rule.”

Attendant: “…” Beauty is the rule?

She added, self-righteously: “You pick military merit. I pick looks. No interference. Are those S‑level uncles who look like boring meeting minutes any better? No thanks.”

Air freezing, the high-tech wall clock ticking awkwardly audible.

But she wasn’t done—she continued scrolling.

Next came a man whose mere presence dominated the screen.

He was dressed in black-and-gold uniform, standing atop a vast army drill platform—expression like stone, gaze like glacier. He looked down upon the entire army like a cold statue that could stop hearts from beating.

Wen Nuannuan stared for three seconds, and her ears warmed; on the fourth, she lifted a finger: “He’s it. Gao Muting. Probably won’t nag—cold-as-fridge men should be easy to get along with. Five words a day max.”

The attendant’s mouth twitched; voice shook: “Miss, you’ve… just picked two?”

Wen Nuannuan: “Yes.”

Attendant: “Regulations allow you to select up to five official candidates…”

Wen Nuannuan: “Five is too tiring.” Innocently: “I just time-traveled—my brain isn’t ready. Let’s start with two for practice. Thank you.”

Three seconds of silence—then chaos erupted:

“Miss, your choices are way too free-spirited!”

“You’re supposed to choose three from S+ to satisfy your family, right?”

“Why downgrade to B+? What about those S-level hotties?”

“And Gao Muting too?! That’s a cold-faced war god—he looks at everyone like they’re enemy troops!”

Wen Nuannuan shrugged, raising her brows: “You guys don’t get it. I’m the most logical one among all romance-brained girls. I choose based on vibes, not the rankings!”

Oh yes, super logical, right?

Then she coolly tapped the confirm button.

[Husband Selection Confirmed]

[Ye Yibai (B+) and Gao Muting (A+) officially entered the candidate list]

[Data syncing to the entire star network… transmitting.]

The next moment, the entire aristocratic society of planet X exploded.

Social media crashed—hashtags like #BaiZixinHusbandChoice and #LowerRankLoveBrain instantly shot to number one trending.

Meanwhile, Wen Nuannuan leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a satisfied smirk on her lips—like a girl who just snagged two packs of discounted snacks at the supermarket.

She stroked her chin and murmured with delight:

“Hmm… which fiancé should I start the ‘three-day cohabitation trial’ with?”

“The cold-faced army guy? Or the dreamy research guy who looks like a love letter in human form…?”

Her eyes gleamed, lips curved in a mischievous smile.

—This transmigration? Totally worth it. Actually, it’s a win.

After Becoming A Popular Girl, I Choose My Husband On Planet X - Chapter 1 - When I opened my eyes, why was I being forced to choose my husband?

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