He tricked the female lead into becoming his boyfriend, but then went on to criticize the male lead.

Sang Jiuning secretly glanced at the composed young man beside her, her heart pounding wildly. She was so embarrassed that she didn't know what to do and her mind was in turmoil: Did he already know? Is that why he coaxed her into agreeing to take a picture?

Amidst her shyness and fluster, Jiang Xiaoman had already pressed the shutter button repeatedly, capturing the image of the two standing side by side in front of the bridal sedan chair, the young man gazing tenderly at the young woman.

From gazing at each other while holding the sedan chair, to standing side by side, to simulating getting in and out of the sedan chair, every picture is full of atmosphere and extremely romantic.

After the shoot ended, Wen Zhaoci didn't hesitate at all. He took out his phone and said to Jiang Xiaoman in a calm tone, "Could you please send me all the negatives and originals from today? I'll pay you three times the price."

Keep every single one.

This is a unique wedding photo of him and Sang Jiuning, a treasured keepsake that belongs only to him.

Jiang Xiaoman readily agreed and immediately sent all the original photos and negatives to Wen Zhaoci's WeChat.

As night deepened and the air grew cooler, the lights of the ancient town gradually faded, leaving behind its bustling atmosphere.

Wen Zhaoci took Sang Jiuning away from the ancient town. Sang Jiuning returned to the Sang family home, and he found a nearby hotel with an elegant environment and excellent style to stay in.

The room was quiet and softly lit, creating a peaceful and warm atmosphere.

At ten o'clock at night, when everything was completely quiet, Wen Zhaoci had just finished taking a shower when her phone suddenly vibrated slightly.

He glanced up at the screen and saw a WeChat message from his friend Zhao Muze.

[Ze: Old Mosquito, what's gotten into you lately? Haven't heard from you in ages. It's not that I miss you, I just wanted to show off! Look at my handwritten wedding invitations, all handwritten! Pretty impressive, right? Aren't you envious? (Husky grins smugly.jpg)]

[Ze: I started planning my wedding six months in advance, personally overseeing every detail. It was all so heartfelt, I almost cried with emotion!]

The message was accompanied by a photo of an exquisite handwritten invitation, with neat handwriting and beautiful binding, showing great care and attention.

Wen Zhaoci looked down at the screen, her eyes completely calm, finding it utterly unremarkable.

That's it?

He lightly tapped the screen, glanced at the photos, and then directly opened the album, selecting all the ancient-style wedding photos he and Sang Jiuning had taken that night—all the scenes of the red-robed gentleman and the blue-clad beauty, the sedan chair facing each other, and standing side by side—and sent them all to Zhao Muze.

The chat interface was filled with exquisite traditional Chinese wedding photos, creating an atmosphere and romance that completely overshadowed the other party's handwritten invitation.

On the other end of the phone, Zhao Muze was originally smug, waiting for Wen Zhaoci to be envious and jealous, and was filled with the pleasure of showing off.

But when one stunning wedding photo after another popped up on the screen, and he saw the two people dressed in Tang Dynasty wedding attire, a handsome man and a beautiful woman, he was instantly stunned. His pupils dilated slightly, and his face was filled with shock. The sense of superiority he had felt vanished in an instant.

After a long silence, Zhao Muze frantically typed, the screen filled with disbelief:

[Ze: Bro?! What are you doing? Rehearsing an ancient wedding in advance?! Are you playing this big?!]

Wen Zhaoci's fingertips traced the gentle and beautiful smiling face of Sang Jiuning on the phone screen, her eyes filled with tenderness, as she replied softly:

[ZC: This suggestion is worth considering.]

A simple sentence, yet it contains profound meaning.

It wasn't just a rehearsal; he genuinely wanted to one day marry her, using wedding attire as a dowry.

Zhao Muze instantly understood his thoughts, and, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, quickly teased him:

[Ze: Okay! I'll prepare the red envelopes in advance and wait to give them!]

……

Meanwhile, on the other side, in the quiet two-story house of the Sang family, the night was deep and all was silent.

The huge house was quiet; everyone was fast asleep.

In the master bedroom, Fu Xulan was breathing evenly and had fallen into a deep sleep.

Sang Tingyan lay beside him, unable to fall asleep for a long time. His eyes held an unyielding melancholy and weariness, his mind heavy with worries.

He waited quietly for a long time, making sure that his wife beside him was completely asleep and would not wake up, before gently lifting the blanket and carefully getting up.

Afraid of making the slightest sound and waking Fu Xulan, he moved with utmost care, took his phone, and quietly slipped into the enclosed bathroom, closing the door behind him to block out all sounds from the room.

The cold tiles reflected the dim yellow light, making his expression appear solemn and tired.

He took a deep breath, his fingertips trembling slightly, and pulled out a number, dialing the number he had saved for a long time but rarely contacted—Fu Yanchen.

The phone rang twice before being answered quickly.

A deep, steady male voice came from the other end of the receiver, detached and indifferent: "Feed?"

Suppressing the complex emotions in his heart, Sang Tingyan spoke first in a low, hoarse voice, carrying the helplessness and heaviness of an adult: "Hello, Fu Yanchen, this is me, Ningning's father, Sang Tingyan."

"Uncle, is something the matter?" Fu Yanchen's tone remained calm, revealing no emotion.

The atmosphere in the quiet bathroom instantly became somber.

Sang Tingyan was silent for two seconds before slowly speaking, his tone tinged with melancholy and regret, each word heavy: "Alan... have you completely forgotten what your father did back then?"

Those long-buried grudges, painful past events, and unbearable old stories were all buried in the years, and were once the pain and shadow of Fu Xulan's life.

Fu Yanchen on the other end of the phone was silent for a moment, then spoke calmly, with a hint of gentle compassion and relief: "It was my arrangement."

"I found a reputable psychologist and had her undergo deep hypnosis."

He paused, his voice softening, tinged with a helpless clarity: "Those past events are too heavy, full of torment and pain. Rather than letting her live in the shadows and suffering every day, it's better to forget them completely and live a clean life."

After listening, Sang Tingyan closed his eyes tightly, his heart churning with complex emotions—gratitude, sighs, and relief.

He once watched Fu Xulan being subtly troubled by the fragmented shadows of the past, and watched her occasionally lose her composure and feel sad in the middle of the night, but he was powerless to do anything about it.

Now, the best outcome is for her to completely forget the pain and live a peaceful life.

After a long silence, he uttered three words softly, sincerely and solemnly: "I understand, thank you."

A simple thank you conveyed a thousand unspoken words.

After hanging up the phone, only a deathly silence remained in the bathroom.

Sang Tingyan gripped his phone and let out a heavy, weary breath.