Jiang Yichen went rigid, his face a chilling mask in the dim light. "Shi Yu," he snarled, "you're asking to die." Of course she knew. She had been asking for it since the day her mother brought her to the Jiang family for refuge. The very first time she had called him 'brother,' he had shut her down with cold finality. "You're just like your mother," he had said. "You both disgust me." The charged intimacy in the silent air evaporated, replaced by the stench of gunpowder. The pressure on her wrist was excruciating, a searing pain that felt as if the bones would snap. Just then, Jiang Yichen finally released her, rose, and left, the slam of the door echoing like a gunshot. The world fell silent. Shi Yu lay on the bed, a soulless doll, the physical ache a pale shadow of the anguish in her heart. Some people are born buried in the dust, their beginnings so humble it’s like standing at the mouth of an endless, black tunnel where every step is its own special torment. After what felt like an eternity, she finally dragged herself into the bathroom, letting the water wash away the bone-deep weariness. Her mother, terminally ill and with nowhere else to turn, had brought her to the Jiang family all those years ago. The father who had abandoned them wanted nothing to do with her, even on his deathbed. In her desperation, her mother had reached out to Jiang Yichen's father, a childhood friend. That act of desperation had, unexpectedly, precipitated the divorce of Jiang Yichen's parents. Jiang Yichen's mother had walked out on her eight-year-old son and vanished without a trace. The following year, Shi Yu’s own mother succumbed to her illness. The tragedy was compounded when news arrived that Jiang Yichen's mother had also died of an illness in a faraway city. He never even got to see her one last time. He blamed everything on Shi Yu and her mother. And so she, an orphan with nowhere else to go, was left in the care of the Jiang family. Nineteen years had passed in a blur. Even after Jiang Yichen's father passed away three years ago and Jiang Yichen himself left the country, it felt like nothing had truly ended. She pulled a ledger from under her bed and curled up with it, her eyes tracing the neat columns. Ever since Jiang Yichen had left three years ago, she had been cutting every possible expense, seizing every chance to make money. Every dollar saved was meticulously recorded. Almost there. Another hundred thousand, and she could finally pay back what the Jiang family had spent raising her. The money was all she could repay. The other debts she owed the Jiangs, owed Jiang Yichen, were beyond settlement. All she could do was pay what she could, leave this place, and start over. It would be a release for both of them, wouldn't it? At least if she disappeared, she could give Jiang Yichen back his peace. The next morning. Shi Yu was startled awake by her alarm. She quickly shook off the grogginess, rising to wash up and prepare breakfast. All the servants at the Jiang residence had been dismissed when Jiang Yichen went abroad. For the past three years, she had maintained the vast house by herself. Now that he was back, someone had to cook for him. After a flurry of activity, she set the table in the dining room. When Jiang Yichen didn't come down on time, it occurred to her that he was probably jet-lagged. Staring at the cooling breakfast, she mustered the courage to go upstairs and knock on his door. "Breakfast is on the table." Silence. Steeling herself, she knocked again. This time, she got a response: "Get lost!" His foul temper hardly fazed her anymore. She just shrugged, returned to the dining room, and started eating, her mind already calculating what part-time jobs she could take during her weekend off from the hospital. Suddenly, there was a sound from the stairs. She looked up and met Jiang Yichen's irritated gaze, clearly still thick with morning grumpiness. He was dressed to go out in a perfectly tailored black suit, his short hair immaculately styled. His features, so flawless they might have been forged, never failed to captivate. She could look at him forever; even the cool distance in his eyes seemed like a virtue. It was because of Jiang Yichen that she believed the saying that a man looks his best in a suit. Three years apart had done nothing to dull the flutter in her heart. To avoid another conflict, she put down her chopsticks and stood. "I'm going to be late for work. I'll do the dishes when I get back." Then she noticed his tie was crooked. Moving on pure instinct, she stepped forward to fix it, but he seized her wrist and yanked her toward him. Suddenly, their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.