"Xu Chu Yan, do you take Ling Li as your lawful wife," he began, "to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"
Chu Yan gazed at the woman before him—her expression serene, her eyes unwavering — and smiled.
"Yes," he said with conviction. "Yes, I do."
A soft murmur of approval swept through the pews.
The priest turned, looking upon Ling Li. "And do you, Ling Li, take Xu Chu Yan as your lawful husband..."
Her breath hitched just barely, but her voice was poised, ready.
But before she could speak...
"Stop!"
The cry split through the air like a thunderclap.
Gasps exploded from every corner of the cathedral. Heads turned. Whispers turned into stunned silence.
Ling Li’s lashes lifted slowly toward the entrance.
There — framed by the arched doorway, silhouetted by the light — stood a woman clutching the hand of a small boy, no older than six. Her hair was windblown, her face streaked with tears, her voice trembling with urgency and emotion.
Chu Yan froze.
His hands, which had been holding Ling Li’s so tenderly, fell limp.
The moment shattered.
Ling Li’s heart cracked — not in confusion, but in sharp, bitter confirmation. She’d read the energy from the start. Her instincts whispered lies draped in silk. But what she couldn’t read... was his reaction. And there it was.
That stagger in his breath. That flinch. That recognition.
He knew her.
"Chu Yan..." the woman continued, stepping forward. "I’ve been looking for you. They said you were abroad, that no one knew where. This..." She turned to the boy, "This is our son."
A strangled silence wrapped the cathedral.
It was her, Charissa. His first love. The woman lost to tragedy six years ago, presumed dead when the cruise ship vanished beneath merciless waves.
Chu Yan stepped back, lips parted, eyes clouding with something...
And in that moment, he released Ling Li’s hand.
The absence of that touch echoed louder than any scream.
Ling Li’s spine straightened ever so slightly.
She had survived ambushes in alleyways, poison in porcelain cups, and betrayal through blade and blood. But that single moment — watching his hand fall away from hers — was the heaviest blow she had ever taken.
Yet her composure did not break.
Without a word, she turned from the altar, her gown trailing behind her like the tail of a phoenix descending in sorrow. She walked down the marble aisle, past guests too stunned to rise. Her twins rushed to her side, their wide eyes fearful.
She knelt to them, kissed their foreheads, and turned to Mushu and Pharsa, voice low and commanding, "Take the twins to Bayside Castle. Now."
Pharsa moved immediately. Mushu hesitated — torn — but nodded.
Then Ling Li left.
Alone.
Not a single soul dared follow.
Chu Yan tried to breathe, to step after her, to say something — but he was paralyzed. Torn between past and present, haunted by a ghost that never should have returned.
"Chu Yan," Charissa cried, her voice cracking. "I was rescued... I lost everything. My memory, my home. But when I remembered who I was, I came back. I had to. For him... for you."
Her tears spilled fast and unrestrained. The boy looked up, confused, clutching her sleeve. It would have been a tragic reunion — if not for the silence that followed.
And then—
An electric chill swept through the cathedral.
The stained glass flickered. Candle flames stilled.
A presence emerged at the doors.
Power draped in samurai silk, footsteps silent, the mask gleaming with deathless grace. A hush deeper than fear cloaked the hall.
Otako had arrived.
Every soul went still.
He stood with the gravity of a mountain, his voice slicing through the air like a blade unsheathed.
"I warned you, Chu Yan," he roared, his voice thunder-rolling through the stone arches. "That to betray Ling Li... would cost everything."
He raised a single hand.
Chu Yan collapsed.
His knees hit marble, a cry of pain ripping from his chest as something inside him burned, stripped from the soul down.
Guests screamed. Fatty tried to wheel forward but was blocked by an invisible force. Shi Min stepped forward, but Otako raised a single finger, stopping time itself.
"Why would you choose this over Ling Li? This impostor! This illusion!"
And with a single gesture—
The woman’s face peeled away. The lifelike mask fell to the floor.
It wasn’t Charissa.
It was Nina.
The room erupted in cries.
Chu Yan’s scream tore through the cathedral. "NINA?!"
"Surprised, Brother?" she snarled, her voice mocking. "I wanted you to see how fragile your trust is. If I couldn’t have your luxurious life, no one would."
Otako’s presence ignited.
With a wave of his hand, masked warriors appeared from thin air, seized Nina, and disappeared into the shadows.
Silence returned.
Except for Otako’s final words — words that would remain burned into every witness’s soul:
"Ling Li is gone now. And with her, everything you once had. Your powers. Your future. Your place in this world. You betrayed her in the one moment that mattered — and now, you will wake up as nothing."
He raised his palm one last time.
Chu Yan fell silent, unconscious.
And Otako vanished.
The altar stood empty. Petals scattered like ashes.
The wedding was no longer the beginning.
It was a warning.
Meanwhile...
Ling Li burst through the mansion’s front doors, still in the remains of her ceremonial gown, the train half-dragged over grass and stone.
She climbed the staircase without breathing.
Up. Up. Until she reached her room.
She shut the door, bracing it with trembling hands, and finally collapsed to her knees in front of the tall, ornate mirror that had seen her try on veil after veil, necklace after necklace, for this day that would never come.
Her hands pressed against the cold marble floor as her breath came in shudders.
Her reflection stared back, pale, composed—and yet broken beneath the surface.
’How could I have let this happen to me?’
The memory of Chu Yan letting go of her hand returned in perfect clarity. No blade had ever pierced her like that one motion.
’I warned myself,’ she thought bitterly. ’Over and over. Not to trust. Not to love.’
The tears finally fell. Silent. Slow.
One by one until they rolled down her jawline and splashed soundlessly onto her dress.
She looked at herself — truly looked — and whispered, "How did it all begin?"
In the mirror, the woman staring back was a warrior.
But right now... she was just a woman betrayed.
____________
Please join Ling Li on her mysterious journey side by side with Otako.
Updates of my novels are every Tuesday and Friday.
Sirius M