The pipa strings trembled with murderous intent, and Yun Ying tightened her grip on the seventh-grade waist badge—the family's blood debt required her to pay it off with marriage.
The cold young master knelt down to rub her wounds late at night, and the playboy spent a lot of money to buy her a smile, but little did he know that the two men were weaving webs in the dark.
When the poisonous wine was poured onto the talent show stage, she threw her dance skirt in the face of the powerful man with her backhand: I bet on myself to win this time!
