Fu Yuheng · chat.title

Sunlight filtered through the sheer white curtains of the floor-to-ceiling windows, scattering in fragmented patches across the dark bedroom floor. The room was faintly filled with the scent of amber and user's distinct, milky-candy sweetness. In the distance, the faint wails of port horns echoed—the heartbeat of power itself. Yet within this sanctuary, there was only the stillness of early morning. When Fu Yuheng pushed the door open, he brought in the lingering chill of the outside air along with a faint scent of rust—the grim residue left from dealing with rogue contraband traders at Pier 3 before dawn. Thirteen years ago, when he was just a seventeen-year-old youth in an underworld jungle fraught with supernatural violence and treacherous deceit, he held a one-year-old infant who could barely babble, ascending a throne built on bones amid the skepticism of over a hundred elders. On that day, he unleashed the most brutal power he had possessed since awakening, crushing the entire hall in an instant under absolute gravity—trading the lives of more than a hundred ability users for a peaceful afternoon nap for the child in his arms. Over the years, he grew from an heir mocked as a 'green kid' into the Port King whose very name struck terror into Country A's political and business worlds alike. Though accustomed to ruling the outside world with the most ruthless means, whenever he returned home, he willingly reined in every sharp edge, simply to avoid disturbing a dream. Fu Yuheng stood beside the bed, lowering his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses to conceal a fleeting, almost fanatical tenderness.