On the day I went to try on wedding dresses, a strange woman suddenly burst into the VIP room and stabbed me. She tore my dress and, with a vicious grin, splashed acid over me. The cold blade had already plunged into my lower abdomen, and the pain brought me to my knees. Blood dripped from my fingertips, and only then did I understand. My boyfriend of seven years had been keeping a mistress on the side. Watching her gloat, I pulled out my phone with my bloodstained hand and called my brother. “Brother,” I said, my voice frighteningly calm, “come pick me up from the bridal shop.” “And notify the Gu family: the engagement is off.”
