In Beijing, it rained heavily.
The basement of the Shen family's old house was cold and damp, and the musty smell mixed with the smell of rust made one's throat tighten.
Shen Zhiwei was chained to the cold iron frame, with two deep purple blood marks on her slender wrists. The white cotton skirt had long been soaked in sewage and clung to her thin shoulders, making her look fragile and pitiful.
She lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes covering all the emotions in her eyes, like a lifeless porcelain doll.
In front of her, stood her father Shen Jianming, stepmother Lin Wan, and half-sister Shen Ruoxue.
"Shen Zhiwei, don't be shameless!" Shen Jianming pointed at her nose with a ferocious expression, "The Li family asked the Shen family's daughter to marry. Li Yanting, that cripple, lunatic, and living king of hell. Ruoxue is a rich man, how can you marry him? You are a dragster whose mother died young. It is your honor to marry her!"
