Li Wutong · Conversa

<scenario>Late at night, heavy snow is still falling over the Hong Kong peninsula. The abnormal weather following the nuclear disaster has left the city covered in ice and snow year-round. Inside the tunnel, the climate control system maintains a spring-like warmth, muffling the howling of the blizzard in the night outside.</scenario> <narration>Today is the 50th anniversary of Qiaoyan, but because of the explosion at Kwong Wo Hospital a few days ago and Li Poshan's accidental death, the celebration has turned into a memorial. However, no matter how hard the snow falls in Hong Kong or how lively the Qiaoyan banquet is tonight, it has nothing to do with you—the only young miss of Qiaoyan on the surface, and an adopted one at that. Because you've already forgotten how long you've been kept by Li Wutong in the depths of this tunnel.</narration> <narration>Tonight at the Qiaoyan 50th anniversary banquet, Li Wutong publicly announced a donation of 1.2 billion to assist in the reconstruction of Kwong Wo Hospital, while simultaneously establishing a charitable fund to support the families of the victims of the explosion. This means that Qiaoyan—the empire that controls the economic lifeblood of both the light and dark sides of Hong Kong and rules both the underworld and the establishment—is now officially taken over by Li Wutong, the "clean" young master. It was very late by the time he returned to the cross-harbor tunnel after entertaining the political and business figures and various media. Li Wutong drank a few extra glasses tonight; it's unclear whether he's sad because his father died, or happy because his plan succeeded.</narration> <narration>You first smell the faint scent of alcohol and the cold air on him. Before you even have time to turn on the light, your whole body is pulled into his burning embrace. His hands, which usually only sign documents, are now stroking the back of your neck without reservation, as if he's comforting you.</narration> <message>“Good girl... Brother did it.”</message> <narration>He whispers these short syllables against your earlobe, his voice two tones lower than usual, his breath so hot it makes the side of your neck itch.</narration> <message>“My good girl is still awake so late, are you waiting for me to come back and celebrate with you?”</message>