In the early morning of Milan, the sun is scorching and dazzling.
Nancy sat upright in the wedding car heading to the church, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the gold-thread phoenix embroidery on the cuffs of her cheongsam.
This was embroidered by her own hands after she stayed up all night for three days, and every stitch was filled with her expectations for the future.
This should have been the happiest day of her life, but in the blink of an eye it turned into a nightmare.
Bang!
The first gunshot shattered the tranquility of the morning mist.
The bullet whizzed past her ear, and the car window shattered, with fragments flying like a rainstorm.
Before Nancy could react, the second gunshot rang out.
"Nancy, get down!"
Her mother threw her down on the seat, hot liquid splashing on her face, and the strong smell of rust instantly filled the entire carriage.
She looked up tremblingly and saw blood blooming on her mother's chest, gradually dyeing the light green cheongsam into dark red.
"Mom?!" She frantically covered the wound with her hand, but blood continued to flow out from between her fingers.
My mother's pale lips trembled slightly, and finally she only spit out a mouthful of bloody bubbles.
"run..."
Bang!
The third gunshot was deafening.
Nansen, the fifteen-year-old brother in the front seat, fell down like a puppet with its strings cut, and blood quickly gathered into a scarlet lake under him.
Through the shattered car window, she saw her fiancé, Leon Corse, standing with a gun. The usually calm man now had a chilling rage on his face.
"Nancy! Lower your head!"
She bent down instinctively, and a bullet flew past her bun and hit the shoulder of the attacker behind her accurately.
This wasn't the wedding she had expected.
It was a carefully planned bloody massacre.
——
(After March)
I woke up in the middle of the night with cold sweat soaking my pajamas.
Nancy woke up from a nightmare, her fingers tightly gripping the bed sheet, as if she could still smell the blood.
Outside the window, the night in Milan was still dark, with only the metal ring on the bedside table emitting a cold light - it was the Corsican family wedding ring that Leon gave her, and she should have worn it on the wedding day.
But he gave it to her in advance and said something strange:
"Whatever happens, don't take it off."
His fingertips stroked the inscription on the inside of the ring - a small rose. Leon said it was the symbol of the Corsican family.
She should have noticed something was wrong.
From his frequent late-night meetings, from the sudden increase in patrols around the villa, from the lingering gloom in his eyes every time he kissed her...
Her encounter with that man was destined to be dangerous from the very beginning.
——
(Two years ago)
The rainy night in Milan carries a hint of early spring chill.
Nancy hoisted her canvas bag above her head and trotted across the empty square. Her high heels slid into puddles, sending up splashes of mud that soaked the hems of her newly designed trousers. She sighed inwardly: This outfit, carefully put together for the college exhibition, was ruined after all.
"Damn it, I should have listened to Marta and brought an umbrella." She muttered softly in Chinese and quickened her pace towards the apartment.
Turning the corner, Nancy suddenly stopped. Two black Maseratis were parked at the entrance of the alley ahead, their lights off, but faint silhouettes of people were visible. She instinctively retreated to the shadows, her heartbeat accelerating.
It was no ordinary stop - several men in suits and ties were standing next to the car, looking alert, and one of them had something in his hand that gleamed in the dim street light.
gun.
Nancy held her breath. While Milan's security wasn't great, such a brazen display of weapons was beyond her comprehension. She was about to retreat quietly when she heard a muffled groan.
A man was dragged out of the car and knelt on the ground. Even through the rain and the distance, Nancy could see that he was trembling.
"Please... I won't dare to do it again..." The man's heavily accented Italian voice came out intermittently, "I can give you all the money..."
There was a soft blast from a silenced pistol. The man's words stopped abruptly, and his body fell to the ground like a rag doll.
Nancy bit her lower lip tightly to prevent a cry. Her legs felt weak, but she didn't dare move an inch. The sound of rain masked her rapid breathing, but if anyone looked in this direction...
The men in black moved swiftly to clear the scene. One of them, seemingly a small-time leader, gestured, and the others sprang into action. In less than three minutes, the vehicle and the bodies were gone, leaving only faint dark marks on the ground washed by rain.
Nancy waited another ten minutes, confirming the danger was over before she dared to move. Trembling, she pulled out her phone but hesitated before pressing the emergency line.
The way those people act... they are not ordinary criminals.
She recalled the recent warnings circulating in the Chinese community about the mafia's sphere of influence. What would happen to her as a witness if she called the police?
Raindrops dripped down her hair, soaking the screen of her phone. Nancy didn't dial the number in the end, but quickly left the scene.
After returning to her apartment, Nancy took a hot shower to wash away the chill that had penetrated her bones. She checked her belongings and suddenly realized that her student ID was missing.
"Impossible..." She searched all her pockets and recalled that the last time she used her student ID was in the college exhibition hall.
Did it fall on the road?
The scene at the alley on that rainy night appeared before my eyes. If I had dropped my student ID card there...
Nancy forced herself to calm down.
Maybe I just left it at school. I'll go look for it tomorrow morning.
What she didn't know was that the student ID card was being held by a hand wearing black leather gloves, and the words "Nancy, Istituto Marangoni" were clearly visible under the dim light.
"Check this girl." Leon Corsica handed his student ID to the assistant beside him. "If she saw anything... deal with it properly."
Three days later, Nancy was revising her design in the college studio. Her ink-and-wash evening gown had garnered some attention at the student section of Fashion Week, with buyers even inquiring about its price.
This should have excited her, but days of nightmares and worries made it difficult for her to concentrate.
"Nan, someone's looking for you." The teaching assistant called out from the door. "In the reception room."
Nancy frowned. She didn't have an appointment with anyone.
Two strange men stood at the door of the reception room, dressed in suits and standing alert. Nancy's heart sank—their posture was exactly the same as the man at the alley entrance that night.
Pushing the door open, a tall figure stood in front of the window. Hearing the noise, the man turned around.
Nancy's first impression was that he was like a sword drawn from its sheath.
His silver-gray three-piece suit outlined his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The few strands of silver in his black hair didn't age him, but rather added a touch of majesty. His features were deep and sharp, especially his eyes—an icy blue, like a frozen Siberian lake, devoid of any emotion.
"Miss Nan," he began, his voice low and elegant, with a barely perceptible Tuscan accent, "I am Leon Corsica."
What he handed over was her lost student ID.
Nancy didn't take it immediately. Her heart was pounding, but she kept a polite smile on her face. "Mr. Corsica? Do we know each other?"
"I don't think you know me." He smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But I found this on the side of the road and thought I should return it to its owner."
"Thank you so much." Nancy took the student ID and noticed a unique ring on his pinky finger—a ruby inlaid on a black background, the pattern resembling a family crest. "It's so kind of you to come all the way here. But how did you know I was here?"
Leon's gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds: "The school name is on the student ID card. It's not difficult to find an outstanding designer like you." He pointed to the design portfolio pinned to her bag, "Especially your work is very recognizable."
Nancy keenly noticed that he used the word "designer" instead of "student", as most people would not make such a distinction.
"Are you interested in fashion?" she asked tentatively.
"I'm interested in all things beautiful." Leon pulled out a business card from his inner pocket. "In fact, my company occasionally sponsors some young designers with potential. If you're interested, you can contact me."
The business card was simple: black with gold lettering, just the name and phone number, no company name or position. When Nancy took it, their fingertips touched briefly, and she felt the calluses on his hands—not the kind that come from a scholar or a businessman.
"Thank you, I'll think about it." She put the business card in her wallet, deliberately not showing much interest.
Leon nodded slightly: "Looking forward to your call, Miss Nan." Before he turned and left, he suddenly added, "By the way, Milan is not very safe at night. Especially... certain neighborhoods. It is recommended that you do not go out alone."
After the door closed, Nancy realized her back was soaked. She took out the business card and examined it carefully under the light. There was an almost invisible dark pattern around the edge of the card, like some kind of anti-counterfeiting mark.
She turned on the computer and typed in "Lyon Corsica, Milan".
The search results made her gasp.
A few obscure social news stories mentioned the name in connection with several business disputes, while a hidden forum post directly pointed out that he was the current head of the Corsican family - the ancient mafia organization that controlled most of the underground business in northern Italy.
Nancy turned off the computer and looked out the window.
Outside the reception room, the black Maserati was still parked, its windows as dark as ink, and she couldn't see if anyone was watching her from inside.
She finally confirmed two things: first, what she witnessed that night was indeed the Mafia executing a traitor; second, this dangerous man did not find her just to return a student ID.