Shen Mubai froze in place.
It was like a sudden clap of thunder out of nowhere—he felt as if his throat was being tightly constricted. His brow furrowed sharply, his grip on the phone tightened, and his jaw tensed.
Just as he was about to speak, Ning Heng had already hung up the call.
He redialed, but the call could no longer go through.
Behind him, Ning Chen urged impatiently, "Mubai-ge, what are you doing? Hurry up and come!"
Shen Mubai pressed his lips together. With no other choice, he had to temporarily let it go.
---
After hanging up, Ning Heng put down the phone and sat back at her dressing table.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Calm. Gentle.
But beneath this perfect and serene mask lay a heart battered by life's upheavals—scarred beyond repair, yet unnoticed by anyone.
Just then, the door to the dressing room swung open again.
Su Yan rushed in, flustered and full of frustration. "Ah Heng, things downstairs are getting out of control. Are the Ning and Shen families not back yet? Many guests have already left. What should we do now?"
Ning Heng remained silent.
She reached up and effortlessly removed the hairpin that secured her hair in a bun.
At that moment—
A cascade of jet-black hair flowed down like ink, spreading over her shoulders.
"Let them leave."
Su Yan was stunned. "What do you mean? If they leave, what about the wedding?"
Ning Heng: "It's over between Shen Mubai and me."
The wedding was naturally no longer necessary.
Su Yan was momentarily speechless.
No one in the world understood better than Su Yan how deeply Ning Heng loved Shen Mubai.
She had given up the opportunity to study abroad for him.
She had missed the most important dance competition for him.
She even abandoned her passion for dance to study jewelry design.
She had dreamed of marrying him—
Dreamed of building a home with him.
Her wish was just about to come true…
But he never showed up.
In less than a day, the news of the groom fleeing the wedding would spread. She would become the laughingstock of high society—of the entire country.
Everyone would realize that when it came to choosing between Ning Heng and Ning Xuan, the Ning and Shen families had chosen Ning Xuan.
She would never be able to lift her head in front of Ning Xuan again.
The humiliation weighed unbearably heavy.
Su Yan's eyes reddened. "I can't change your decision, but I'll go and see the guests out."
"Mm."
After Su Yan left, Ning Heng also stood up from her seat.
The dressing room felt vast and empty, but she felt as though she was trapped at the bottom of the ocean—suffocated, confined, and unable to breathe.
After a long pause, she opened the door and walked out.
---
Downstairs—
The wide road behind Sophie Castle was deserted.
Perhaps because the Ning and Shen families had made arrangements in advance, the surrounding roads had been cleared completely.
Just then, a black, luxurious stretch Lincoln sped toward the castle.
Inside the car—
Secretary General Yuan Qing, sitting in the passenger seat, reported calmly to the man in the back, "Sir, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has confirmed that the British Prime Minister will arrive tonight at 9:30. You are requested to attend the reception at the ministry hall for the formal meeting…"
The man, his presence cold and imposing, gave a brief "Mm."
He had a straight posture and an overwhelming aura.
His sharp, dark eyes exuded a sense of aloof authority—mature, distant, and noble.
Even as he simply sat there, his presence was undeniable.
With a mere glance, he could make the masses feel insignificant.
At that moment—
The man's gaze shifted and landed on the highest point of the castle, where the sign read "Sophie Castle."
"Stop."
The driver braked abruptly.
Yuan Qing asked cautiously, "Sir, is something wrong?"
"What is this place?"
Yuan Qing glanced out the window. "Sophie Castle."
"…It's known as the Castle of Love in our country due to its many romantic legends. Today, the Ning and Shen families are holding a wedding here—apparently, even Mayor Zhao has taken time to attend. Would you like to go inside and have a look?"
The man's gaze lingered on the castle for a few seconds.
His fingers gently rolled the black sandalwood prayer beads around his wrist, his dark eyes unreadable.
"No need."
He withdrew his gaze and spoke coolly. "Let's go."
"Yes, sir."
Just as the driver was about to restart the engine—
The man suddenly narrowed his eyes, his gaze locking onto a figure in the distance.
A hundred meters away—
A woman in a wedding gown had just stepped out from the back entrance of the castle.
Her features were delicate, but her expression was dazed.
She glanced in their direction.
Her clear, glassy eyes held a shattered, sorrowful look.
Despite wearing a wedding dress, her long hair cascaded down freely—without a single adornment, not even a veil.
Her white skirt trailed on the ground, and her frail figure seemed as if a mere breeze could topple her.
Bathed in the warm sunlight, her shadow stretched long, like a homeless ghost.
"Wait." The man's voice rang out.
Again?
Yuan Qing followed his gaze.
That's… Miss Ning?!
Shouldn't she be at the wedding?
His face stiffened. "Today's business and entertainment news in S Country is dominated by the story of Young Master Shen fleeing the wedding. So, the rumors are true…"
At that moment—
From the back seat, the man's eyes darkened as he gave an unexpected order: "Hit her."
Yuan Qing froze.
The driver was also dumbfounded.
Both of them were in shock!
They suspected they had misheard.
Checking the rearview mirror, the driver hesitated. Yuan Qing, too, cast a glance back.
The man's fingers paused on the prayer beads, his gaze sharp as a blade.
…It seemed they hadn't misheard.
Secretary Yuan, whose face was always stern and serious, showed a rare crack in his expression.
The driver, obeying orders, gripped the steering wheel tightly and stepped on the accelerator, closing his eyes as the car sped forward.
Still, he didn't dare to go too fast.
Ning Heng faintly heard the sound of an approaching car. She turned to look—
The vehicle was heading straight for her.
But it was too late…
"Bang!"
Her waist collided with the car, and she staggered backward, falling to the ground. Pain shot through her legs as they scraped against the rough pavement, her face turning pale.
The car came to a halt.
Just as the driver was about to get out, the rear door opened.
The man stepped out, his tall and imposing figure striding toward her.
Ning Heng lay on the ground, too pained to stand.
A shadow loomed over her.
A long, slender hand extended toward her.
On the man's pale wrist, black sandalwood prayer beads exuded a cold fragrance—clean and sharp.
"This lady," he said in an indifferent voice, "do you need help?"
Ning Heng looked up.
Her eyes met his—those deep, unreadable eyes filled with a chilling authority.
Under the harsh sunlight, he seemed to glow with a golden aura.
His presence was noble and aloof.
Like an emperor emerging from an ancient castle—timeless, commanding.
Sensing her hesitation, the corners of his lips curled in an almost imperceptible arc.
"This lady, do you need help?"