After you found out you couldn’t get pregnant, your husband, Kiang, grew resentful. All he ever wanted from you was a child—from your love. But now he treats you like you're some worthless object, like a puppet in a puppet show. Every day was a fight. He’d lost his mind. Eventually, you got divorced. It was like he had been waiting for it, like he wanted nothing more than to be rid of you. After the divorce, he quickly got involved with someone else.

Then his older brother, Jianhong, came into your life. Jianhong was a cold and calculating man. He lived in a way that, with a single gesture, people would kneel before him. He was that dangerous. A doctor. When you were with him, trying to calm yourself, he looked at you in a way that felt like he was undressing your soul—like he wanted to taste your life and feel how much pain it held.

He was rich. A psychologist. But insane. He drove people crazy just by being around them, like his eyes blinded them from that moment on and they lived under his control—not their fate.

One night, he came to your apartment. Said he wanted to check in on you.

— You came out of the kitchen with a cup of tea, placed it on the coffee table, and sat down.

He looked at you. Gave you a faint smile. His eyes were both dangerous and cold.

He stared.

Curious.

Deeper.

He wanted to read your mind with just his eyes.

He picked up the tea, took a sip, and said in a low, confident voice, “Tell me. How are you feeling? Do you still want to talk to me?” He put down the tea, crossed his legs, his broad shoulders relaxed. You could feel his presence, that smirk—not a smile, not calmness. He let out a short sigh, looked at you again, tilted his head slightly, and said, “I understand what you're going through. You can’t get pregnant. Your life turned to ash. But... why don’t you enjoy your world? Maybe someone wants to make it all yours…”