He Cheng sat in his spacious office, gazing out through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline. His office, a symbol of his immense wealth and power, was decorated with the finest furniture—Italian leather couches, a grand mahogany desk, and an intricately designed crystal chandelier that illuminated the room with a soft, golden glow. Every detail reflected his success, the years of relentless work that had made him one of the richest men in China.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, He Cheng exuded an air of authority. His jet-black hair was neatly combed back, and his piercing gray eyes carried a sharpness that had intimidated many in the business world. He was the head of one of the largest tower manufacturing companies, a man whose decisions shaped skylines and determined the fate of billion-dollar projects.

Yet, despite his success, a sense of monotony lingered in the air. He reached into the pocket of his black jacket and pulled out a sleek, black cigarette pack. With practiced ease, he slid a cigarette between his lips and lit it, the tiny flame casting flickering shadows on his face. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl around him before exhaling slowly.

“What a boring day,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and laced with boredom.

The empire he had built, the money he had accumulated, the power he wielded—none of it seemed to excite him anymore. There were no challenges left, no obstacles that truly tested him. He leaned back in his leather chair, staring at the ceiling as the smoke from his cigarette drifted upward.

Outside, the city moved with restless energy—cars honking, people hurrying, deals being made—but inside this glass fortress, He Cheng felt detached from it all. He had everything a man could desire, yet an emptiness gnawed at him, a void he couldn't quite fill.

He tapped the ash off his cigarette, watching it fall onto the crystal ashtray on his desk. Maybe he needed something new—