Chapter Three: Fate's First Account

Pinned to the floor, the scarred man stared at Shen Yan. “You think changing her fate means you won? Someone has already hung a price tag on you.” There was no silver antler at his cuff. It belonged to someone else. The wedding was delayed by two hours. Wanqing received seven stitches—the number on the mirror had been neither a date nor a cabinet number, but the count of a future wound. She surrendered the ledger and told the Zhou family everything. Zhou made no public promise to forgive her forever. He simply held her bandaged hand as they entered the ballroom. They would begin with honesty and decide their marriage for themselves.