Chapter One: Twenty Years Old

Today is my twentieth birthday. Months ago, Du Fanchuan had already told me, with an air of secrecy, that he was preparing a surprise for me.

At the time, I thought he was planning to take me to the registry office to get our marriage certificate. I secretly rejoiced for days, only to have my hopes dashed by my best friend: my birthday falls on New Year's Eve, and the registry office would be closed for the holiday.

Carrying the fireworks I’d bought for the evening, I went upstairs, opened the door, changed my shoes, and suddenly heard noises coming from inside the apartment.

For the past two years, my family has celebrated the New Year with Du Fanchuan’s family. Early this morning, my grandfather had taken my parents to the Du residence to help with preparations. There was no way anyone should be in my home. Could it be a burglar?

I grabbed a pair of scissors from a box in the shoe cabinet, held my breath, and crept toward the sound, finally stopping outside my bedroom door.

Through the crack of the half-closed door, I saw a trail of men’s shirts and trousers, women’s lace dresses, lingerie, and underwear, all strewn from the doorway to the bed. The closest item was a pair of pink high heels—the birthday gift I’d painstakingly saved up for through part-time jobs three months ago, which I had given to Yihua Yang.

So this is what it feels like to be struck by lightning. My mind went blank with a deafening roar as a surge of fury exploded within me. I kicked open the door.

The two people entangled on my bed shrieked in terror. Shaking with rage and disgust, scissors clenched in my hand, I approached them.

Yihua Yang cowered against Du Fanchuan, who, with a flushed face still tinged with post-passion heat and shamelessness, pulled the blanket to shield them and puffed up his chest to face me. “Lanshan, Lanshan, calm down, please, you must calm down. We can talk about this—”

All the while, he was nudging Yihua Yang behind his back, signaling for her to leave quickly.

I let out a cold, mirthless laugh, yanked the blanket away, and pointed the scissors at Du Fanchuan’s most vulnerable spot.

I have no recollection of what I said, fury clouded everything. My teeth ground together audibly. In the end, I spat out just two words: “You wretches.”

Du Fanchuan clutched his groin and shrank back, but I was resolute—I meant to destroy him. I half-knelt on the bed, pinning his shoulders down.

The blanket was slashed open in two places. My eyes were bloodshot as I screamed, “Wretches, I’ll kill you both!”

My movements were swift. My father had taught me hand-to-hand combat for years, though I’d never had the chance to use it—never imagined the first time would be like this.

“Lanshan, Lanshan, listen to me, I can explain, please don’t—”

He tried to restrain my hands, but I twisted my wrists free even faster. The scissors gashed his thigh.

I sneered coldly, raising the scissors again, but Yihua Yang pushed Du Fanchuan aside and threw herself at me, her bare chest exposed.

The scissors, blind and unfeeling, slashed across her chest. Blood splattered my face.

Yihua Yang wailed hysterically, “She’s killing me! She’s killing me! Help! Somebody help!”

I paid no attention. All I wanted was to end the lives of these two shameless creatures.

I yanked open a drawer and pulled out the dagger my grandfather had given me. Scissors in one hand, dagger in the other, I was, in that moment, a bloodthirsty demon.

When I lunged at Du Fanchuan again, he gripped the scissors with both hands. Blood spattered the bed. In his eyes, I saw utter determination.

Yihua Yang had collapsed on the bed, unconscious.

Suddenly, people rushed in. Several of them seized me, dragging and pulling, trying to wrest me away, but I was beyond control, slashing wildly with scissors and dagger, bent on killing the pair of them.

My father came out carrying the unconscious Yihua Yang, his face streaked with tears. My sobbing mother clutched a coat, draping it over her precious eldest daughter.

Last to emerge was Du Fanchuan, shirtless, hastily pulling on his pants, his hands covered in blood. He broke free of his father and ran outside.

The hallway was packed with onlookers. Two people pinned me to the floor. As my cheek pressed against the cold tile, I turned my head and saw the chaos within my bedroom—a perfect reflection of the state of my heart.