The wedding ceremony was finally completed amidst a subtle and tense atmosphere.
Although Augustine and Lucia had placed the symbolic rings of their vows on Su Yaoyao's fingers and the three of them had embraced tightly, that pure joy had been cast under a shadow.
The guests' blessings remained enthusiastic, yet they were tinged with a certain caution and curiosity. Their gazes couldn't help but drift to the corner of the hall, toward the out-of-place figure radiating a cold aura.
Lan Yi Jialuo seemed to be a world unto himself, shutting out all the clamor and warmth.
He leaned against a cold stone pillar with his arms crossed, his sharp, silver eyes like the most precise of trackers, perpetually locked on Su Yaoyao.
His presence was a Sword of Damocles hanging over them all, a silent reminder of the storm brewing beneath this fleeting happiness.
