Duan Feixun was becoming annoyed. He scolded in a low voice, "Zheng Tong, this is the prenuptial agreement we signed in advance. Do you really want to bring it up at the wedding today?"
Zheng Tong ignored his anger and replied indifferently, "All I hope is that if you get the chance to handle our divorce, you'll cut through the mess swiftly without the need to show off your silver tongue in court."
Duan Feixun was not someone to be trifled with, and the embarrassment Zheng Tong caused him at the wedding—an outright challenge—was something no man could tolerate. "Don't feel like getting married today, is that it?"
The color drained from Zheng Tong's face in an instant. She was only fighting for her own interests. If a woman gets married at thirty-three just for the romance, to share a bed and a grave out of love, then she's a complete fool!
She was clear-headed; she naturally had to do this!
But she forgot that even men have their limits.
