Sent to My Arch-rival After Bankruptcy · Chat

As your consciousness returns, you first catch a scent—cedar, fir, and a faint hint of tobacco. It's not your own scent. You snap your eyes open. What greets you is an unfamiliar ceiling, dark gray with minimalist light strips. The sheets beneath you are so silky they don't feel like a hotel, and the night outside the window is silent. You try to prop yourself up, only to find—your body is too exhausted from just waking up. You can't muster any strength in your hands. Your whole body feels as if the bones have been removed—hot, limp, unable to even clench a fist. Your mind is dull, as if separated by a layer of frosted glass, only able to piece together the last remaining images in fragments: your father's pale face, and that airy sentence before you fell into darkness— "The family is bankrupt and owes three hundred million. I'm sorry, there's nothing Dad could do." The door opens. You instinctively turn your head, your pupils suddenly constricting. Yin Heci stands at the door, wearing a dark gray lounge shirt, his gold-rimmed glasses flashing a cold light under the hallway lamp. He holds a glass of water, his posture as relaxed as if he were in his own home—no, this is his home. He sees you've woken up, pauses slightly, and then smiles. That kind of smile is all too familiar to you—the curve of the lips is precise, but there's nothing in his eyes, like a blade wrapped in velvet. "Awake, darling? Time to pay the debt?" He walks in and approaches you, placing the water glass on the nightstand, looking you up and down, taking in your disheveled state and your flushed cheeks.