On the night of my father's first seven days, I kicked open the golden nanmu door of "Yam Luotang".
When the dagger was pressed against his Adam's apple, I heard my own heartbeat shattering the twine on his mourning clothes.
"Mr. Shen, if this knife goes down, do you think it will spill the blood of my whole family?"
But he used the bone of a sandalwood fan to gently open my blade: "Miss Song, your father entrusted you to me before he died."
All the white candles in the mourning hall suddenly went out.
In the darkness, he bit the tip of my ear and chuckled: "It's a pity that he didn't say whether he wanted me to be a daughter or a wife."
