Their love was written in the stars

The solemn wedding march drew to a close. Ling Tianchen, seated at the head table, shifted his gaze from the stage, scanning the festive wedding hall with a bored indifference. His deep, enigmatic eyes carried an aloof nobility that kept others at a distance. But when they inadvertently landed on a small figure, that icy gaze faltered, a chill instantly flooding the depths of his frost-laden stare. Su Xiaoxiao squeezed her arms tighter around her already eye-catching chest, deepening the cleavage. The balding man in front of her—his greedy eyes practically falling into her neckline—didn’t notice her slender hand slipping silently behind him. With a deft, ghostly move, she lifted the wallet from his trouser pocket. Ha! Her third haul of the night, snagged without a hitch. Good thing she hadn’t tossed that wedding invitation she’d stumbled across—it was a genius move to crash this banquet! The plump men’s wallet vanished into her oversized handbag in a flash. With a slight curl of her lips, she gave her best weapon—a sway of her hips—a little shake and strutted off, leaving the drooling lech staring longingly at her graceful retreating figure. Ling Tianchen rubbed his chin, a cold, predatory smile creeping across his lips. She was a dead ringer—the face, the figure—a spitting image of that lowlife woman from years ago who’d driven his mother away and stolen his father’s favor! Karma really had a way of turning the tables. That woman could never have imagined her own flesh and blood—the daughter she’d sacrificed for power and riches—would one day fall into his hands. And to top it off, she had the gall to steal on his turf! Did she think he needed an excuse to make her pay? Su Xiaoxiao circled the room and plopped down casually at a banquet table, her starry eyes never straying far from the gift-money collection spot near the entrance. She’d forked over a hefty five hundred yuan upon signing in—big money by her standards—only to be met with a cold sneer, her borrowed name scribbled on the last page of the guestbook. Five hundred was no small sum for her; on a good day pickpocketing at the train station or on buses, she’d be lucky to scrape that much together. If she couldn’t turn it into ten or a hundred times more here, how could she stomach it? Plus, her wrist was still healing from an injury she’d taken helping her sister out of a jam last time. For over two weeks, she hadn’t been able to work properly. The hospital bills for her grandma were due any day now, and her foster father was hounding her for cash too. As the emcee droned on before finally kicking off the feast, Su Xiaoxiao grabbed a chicken leg with one hand, gnawing at it ferociously, her eyes still glued to the crew handling the gift money. The cash on the table was stacked half a meter high, draped in red silk. By her estimate, it was at least five million yuan! A wedding this lavish—hundreds of tables, fresh flowers alone worth tens of thousands—made that pile look like a lottery jackpot. And that was just the cash; the real heavy hitters wouldn’t even bother with bills. The sight of all that gift money had her heart racing and her hands itching. Rich folks flaunting their wealth like this was absurd! She only wanted a fraction to save a life—so when the time came, they’d better not blame her for getting grabby. Ling Tianchen shot a sidelong glance at the little woman devouring her food like a beast, raising his glass for a sip of wine. A mocking curve tugged at his lips. Finally, someone came with a box to collect the cash. Su Xiaoxiao’s small fist clenched in anticipation, her nerves jangling at the thought of it being whisked straight to a bank. When she saw the money box being carried out of the banquet hall, she couldn’t sit still any longer. Tossing the chicken bone aside, she sprang up and trailed after the group, feigning nonchalance. Her lithe figure flitted through the crowd like a butterfly among flowers, slipping out of the hall without raising much suspicion—except from a few appreciative stares. In truth, only Ling Tianchen, mid-toast with the newlyweds, clocked her. Those gleaming eyes of the little thief locked onto the two hefty cash boxes like a fly on a rotten egg. Following them out, Su Xiaoxiao realized they weren’t leaving with the money. Instead, flanked by a few bodyguard types, they headed for the elevators. She tailed them closely, leaning against a wall to “touch up her makeup,” discreetly noting which floor they took. Ling Tianchen, meanwhile, half-heartedly accepted toasts from a handful of company bosses at the table, his mind elsewhere—on that wildcat outside, clearly angling for a big score. “Mr. Ling, you seem in good spirits tonight?” one of the old-timers ventured, raising his glass with a nod to the faint smirk on Ling’s face. “Hope you’ll go easy on us small fry and stop toying with us old geezers.” Ling Tianchen’s smile widened, his fathomless gaze flicking over the man’s fawning expression. Back when his mother lost everything and his grandfather fell ill, these opportunists had swooped in to carve up his maternal family’s assets. Did these C City hotshots, thriving for nearly two decades, really think he’d let them off easy? “You’re too kind, Mr. Xia. The business world’s a unpredictable beast—it’s not all up to me. Speaking of which, where’s this ‘surprise’ you promised?” His voice was low and magnetic, dripping with masculine allure, but his words spared no quarter. This pack had begged him to attend this tedious wedding—did they think they could negotiate without showing some real cards? Laughable. “No rush, Mr. Ling. The surprise is ready. Finish your wine, head upstairs, and you’ll see. Guaranteed satisfaction!” Mr. Xia grinned obsequiously, his wrinkled face oozing flattery. His daughter had been waiting in Room 8001 since morning—this time, he’d hook this tough nut for sure. “I’ve had enough wine. How about I check it out now?” Ling Tianchen raised a brow, seizing the chance to stand. Any later, and he might lose track of that wildcat who’d just landed in his grasp. “Mr. Ling, the keycard.” Mr. Xia scrambled up, pressing a gilded card into his palm. Ling Tianchen glanced at it carelessly—1008? “Let’s hope it’s a real surprise.” He flicked the card to his assistant, who’d risen with him, and strode out of the banquet hall with long, purposeful steps.