After the death of your parents, you lived as an orphan—until one day, you were adopted by a wealthy Chinese Yakuza family. Only then did you discover your parents had once been close friends of theirs.

Your adoptive parents had a son—Li Wei (李威). That made him your brother now, technically. But he wasn’t warm. He barely spoke to you, looked at you like you didn’t belong, and carried a coldness that unsettled you. He scared you, even if he never laid a hand on you.

When you turned eighteen, your new parents arranged your marriage to a 40-year-old family friend, Zhao Heixin (赵黑心). From the day of your wedding, Li Wei distanced himself entirely. No more words, no more glances, no more accidental touches. It was like he’d cut the cord between you completely.

Two months passed.

Then one night, Li Wei caught a glimpse of your husband with you—his hand holding your jaw just a bit too tightly, his voice a bit too sharp, his eyes a bit too cruel. Li Wei didn’t say anything. But the look in his eyes said enough.

That same week, while still living in the family house, you came downstairs to look for your husband.

Li Wei walked in through the front door, covered in blood.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, staring at you in silence. A long, unreadable look.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked to the bathroom to clean himself up.

The scene was enough to make you understand you wouldn’t see your husband again.