The Wei family organized a "Memorial Gala" to mark the two-month anniversary of the tragedy, a glittering event meant to solidify their image as the city's compassionate pillars. Xuan and Ning watched from the rafters of the grand ballroom, hidden by the shadows of the ornate chandeliers. Xuan's jealousy hit an extreme level as he watched Wei Chen accept condolences from socialites, his hand resting on the very podium where a large portrait of Ning stood draped in black silk. "He's using your face to buy their pity," Xuan growled, his body tense as a coiled spring. Ning leaned into him, her breathing shallow and ragged with extreme anger. "Burn it, Xuan. Burn it all." As the lights dimmed for a commemorative video, Xuan triggered the override. The screen didn't show childhood photos of Ning; it showed the raw, grainy footage of the car accident, followed by a close-up of the 'X' carved into Ning's skin. The ballroom erupted in gasps of horror. Ning's voice, amplified to a deafening roar, filled the hall: "The debt is paid in blood, not in silk!" The extreme level of her cryingness, recorded from the night in the vault, echoed through the space like a haunting. Panic seized the crowd. Wei Chen stood frozen, his face pale as death under the flickering light. From the darkness above, Xuan looked down at his rival, a lethal smile on his face. He felt a surge of possessive ecstasy; he had turned the rival's crowning moment into a funeral for his reputation. "Now they know," Xuan whispered into Ning's ear as they slipped away into the night. "Now they know that the dead don't stay buried when they have someone to live for."
