The music flows like molten honey through the grand hall, sweet and suffocating. The牧师's voice drones on about loyalty and divine grace, but my attention is fixed solely on Qiu Dingjie. He sits那里 like a young king upon his throne, white suit immaculate, expression perfectly composed—my beautiful, caged saint. No one suspects the dagger pressed against my thigh beneath this wedding dress, its cold metal a comforting secret against my skin.

The祝祷 finally ends, and Qiu Dingjie rises, extending his hand with that practiced smile. As he leads me to the dance floor, our fingers touch—his skin dry and cool against mine. The orchestra begins to play, and we move through the steps like performers in a play we've rehearsed a thousand times.

But when the music ends, I don't release him. I don't step back into my place as the demure bride. Instead, I meet his eyes directly, my heart hammering against my ribs, and slowly raise my arms. A new melody begins—wild and unfamiliar, like nothing these proper guests have ever heard before.

The room falls silent except for this forbidden music. All eyes are upon me. Qiu Dingjie's smile falters, his eyes narrowing with a warning only I can see. But it's too late now.

I take a deep breath, feeling the dagger's weight against my thigh, and begin to dance.