The wedding of the century was three days away. The city was plastered with images of Lin Yan and Zhao Feng—the "Power Couple" of the decade. To the public, it was a fairy tale of mergers and diamonds. To Lin Yan, it was the construction of her own gallows.
She sat in a private, high-end clinic, the white walls sterile and cold. There were no cameras here, no family members, only a doctor she had paid a fortune to ensure absolute silence.
"President Lin," the doctor said, his voice hesitant. "You are young. This is an irreversible procedure. Are you absolutely certain? Once the uterus is removed, there is no turning back. You will never be able to conceive."
Lin Yan looked at her reflection in the polished steel of the medical tray. She looked pale, her eyes hollowed out by weeks of sleepless nights.
"I am certain," Yan said, her voice steady as a heartbeat. "A child should be the fruit of love. It should be a piece of two souls that wanted to be one."
She thought of Su Qing—the way her eyes lit up when she sang, the way she had sobbed about being "broken."
"If I cannot have a child with the woman I love," Yan continued, her grip tightening on the edge of the surgical table, "then I will not bring a life into this world to be a pawn for a family legacy. I will not give the Zhao family an heir. I will be the last of my line."
The surgery was quick. The recovery was a slow, agonizing burn.
Two days later, Yan stood in front of a floor-to-length mirror, draped in a wedding dress that cost more than a small mansion. The lace was intricate, the silk heavy. Underneath the bodice, hidden by the layers of white, was a surgical bandage and a deep, throbbing ache.
"This is my wedding gift to you, Su Qing," Yan thought, her fingers grazing the area where a life would never grow. "You thought you were the only one who had to lose something. You thought you were the only one who was 'ruined.' Now, I am just like you. I am a hollow vessel. I am a woman who will never be a mother, just as you are a woman who thinks she can never be a wife."
She walked down the aisle of the cathedral like a ghost. The music was triumphant, the flowers were blooming, and her father was beaming with pride. Zhao Feng stood at the altar, looking at her not with love, but with the greed of a man who had finally acquired a rare diamond.
Among the hundreds of guests, in the very back row, a woman sat in a dark veil.
Su Qing watched through a blur of tears. She saw the way Yan walked—stiffly, with a hidden pain she couldn't quite mask. She saw the lack of light in Yan's eyes.
When the priest asked if anyone objected, Su Qing's heart screamed "Me! I object! I love her!" But her lips remained sealed. She remembered the "unspoken rules." She remembered the stains on her own soul.
"If I stop this, I ruin her," Su Qing whispered into her veil. "If I let her go, she lives in luxury. She stays the 'Ice Queen.' She stays pure."
She didn't know that the woman at the altar had already destroyed her own "purity" to match Su Qing's scars.
As the "I do's" were exchanged, a cold wind seemed to sweep through the cathedral. The contract was truly over. Su Qing stood up and slipped out the back door before the kiss, disappearing into the gray city rain.
Lin Yan felt the moment Su Qing left. The air grew thinner.
"Goodbye, my canary....my love," Yan thought as she felt the cold gold of the wedding ring slide onto her finger. "I hope you find the sky. I'll stay here and guard the cage."
"The wedding dress was white, but the soul underneath was dressed in mourning."