Old Street, at the Zhang Family's mourning tent.
"Aqing, listen to me. I... I had no choice. Ayuan was just too stubborn. If she'd just been a little more yielding, things wouldn't have come to this..."
The weather was freezing, and inside the simple, drafty mourning tent, a brazier sputtered with specks of hot ash.
Zhang Qing's foot was planted on the chest of the plainly dressed man he used to call 'brother-in-law'. With a blade pressed to the man's throat, his eyes were bloodshot, his teeth clenched, and his glare was terrifying.
Finally, the man, trembling uncontrollably, confessed the truth.
He listened as the man revealed how his own sister had been 'sold' by her husband to Yang Yan, the Young Head of the Tiger and Leopard Hall, to cover a gambling debt. Unable to bear the humiliation, she had hanged herself.
His eyelids twitched. He bit down hard, tightened his grip on the knife, and with a sharp SLICE followed by a scream, the lean young man roared coldly:
