The day my wife wanted to divorce me, I transmigrated back twenty years.
There was a pale ring around my finger, left by my wedding band, but in 2008, I wasn't married yet.
Chen Lixuan stood before me, the web between her thumb and forefinger split, blood dripping down. She asked me, "Are you going to marry me or not?"
I remember that day: April 17, 2008. I went to the Sound Hall, signed a contract, had a drink, and didn't come home. She waited until 10:05, then left.
Twenty years later, she said, "There's nothing left for us to say."
But I don't remember there being blood that night. I don't remember the web of her hand splitting. I don't remember her saying, "I took the blame for you."
There's something wrong with my memories.
There's a text message from an unknown number. It says: "Sound Hall tonight. Don't let Feng Tiao touch your contract."
I didn't see that message until 2025.
You know how it ends, but can you change what caused it?
