Yin Xiaomo linked arms with Yin Cheng as they walked down the dark crimson carpet, the flickering candlelight casting a soft sheen on the snow-white wedding dress.

Step by step, she passed rows of guests.

Ling Hao gazed at her.

Cain looked at her with satisfaction.

Yao Shu'er smiled at her.

Vian also offered a friendly smile.

And Jam, Yalun, the dance and vocal teacher who had once guided her… but Zhen En looked at her with panic! Yin Xiaomo slowly walked forward, linked to Yin Cheng’s arm. In a daze, she seemed to hear two pieces of music: one, the grand Wedding March, and the other, a low, faint, strangely familiar melody… so familiar… “Sis—” Yin Cheng quietly reminded her.

She started, mechanically stopping her steps with Yin Cheng.

Stopping right—in front of Ou Chen.

Before dying, I only wished to see you one last time… Warm water poured ceaselessly from the faucet… The bathroom filled with white mist… The floor was slick with bright red blood… The pale, bleeding wrist could no longer hold the phone receiver, which fell heavily beneath the surface of the bathtub water, sending up a crimson-tinged splash… Will you… in front of all the guests.

In front of the priest.

Yin Cheng lightly kissed the floral crown on Yin Xiaomo’s forehead, then, gazing at Ou Chen, solemnly placed her hand into Ou Chen’s palm.

Ou Chen held his breath.

He gripped her hand tightly, as if it were the most precious treasure of his life.

His fingers were burning hot; her fingers were icy and trembling. At the moment their hands met, his heart pounded heavily, and the blood in his entire body seemed to freeze from this unbelievable happiness, as if God had now bound him and her together, never to be separated, always together… Will you… The receiver bobbed lightly under the water.

“Beep—” “Beep—” The blood had already stained the bathtub water a dark red, continuously spilling over, while warm water poured in without stopping. The wrist wound soaking in the water could never clot, gushing out fresh blood… In the pitch-black dizziness… the heart gradually suffocated and weakened… A bone-chilling coldness… Lips pale from blood loss, Luo Xi lay limply in the black bathtub. The water gently lifted the edge of his transparent clothing, and his paper-white face slowly, powerlessly, tilted to one side, allowing death to carry away his last vestiges of clarity… Will you… Beneath the vast vault of the magnificent church.

The Wedding March echoed clearly and melodiously. Ou Chen and Yin Xiaomo stood side by side before the priest, bathed, it seemed, in divine light, perfectly matched.

The priest, clad in long robes, solemnly asked, “Ou Chen, do you take Miss Yin Xiaomo to be your wife? To cherish her, to love her, in poverty or wealth, sickness or health, loving and respecting each other, never leaving, forever united?” Ou Chen gazed deeply into Yin Xiaomo’s eyes.

“I take Miss Yin Xiaomo to be my wife.

To cherish her, to love her, in poverty or wealth, sickness or health, loving and respecting each other, never leaving, until death do us part.”

“Miss Yin Xiaomo, do you take…” Recklessly… No, Xiaomo must not know! The phone music in the handbag rang on, terribly and stubbornly, over and over. Zhen En sat restlessly in terror. She felt Pan Nan sensing something was wrong and looked questioningly toward the handbag from which the noise persisted! Summer’sⅢ