1. The Fallen Young Lord

Ye Feng was twenty-three years old this year. For a young man in his twenties, it was rare to possess such a silent and steady demeanor.

His parents were exceedingly wealthy; since childhood, Ye Feng had never lacked money. Though his parents had little time for him, whenever he desired something, all he needed was to ask, and a servant would promptly bring it home for him.

Due to work commitments, his parents spent most of their time shuttling between the local city and foreign countries. Especially when Ye Feng turned six, his parents moved to the United States for a highly lucrative project, living there for three years without returning. From then on, Ye Feng attended a boarding school. His parents deliberately left him in the country, hoping he would learn independence from a young age.

On his ninth birthday, while he was at school, he noticed the family car, which had been parked for ages, arrive to pick him up. His father said nothing, simply entered the classroom and led Ye Feng away. Once inside the car, Ye Feng saw his mother was there as well.

Perplexed, Ye Feng called out to his parents, but they merely murmured a reply and said nothing more. The car soon set off, the atmosphere inside oppressive. Ye Feng repeatedly asked questions, but his parents refused to respond, leaving him bewildered.

They quickly entered the highway. With his parents silent, Ye Feng grew bored and drifted into a daze. Not long after, his mother let out a low gasp; the car jerked violently, and Ye Feng felt his mother push him out of the car door. The car carrying his parents rolled over and, moments later, exploded. Ye Feng, having been shoved out of the car, had already fallen unconscious.

When he awoke, Ye Feng screamed for his parents, only to be told the horrifying news of their deaths. The blow stunned him for a long time—such trauma was far too much for a nine-year-old child.

After investigation, the incident was deemed an accident. According to the authorities, Ye Feng’s parents had invested their entire fortune in a project before their deaths, losing everything. Not only was there not a cent left, but even valuable fixed assets had been mortgaged. Pitifully, Ye Feng, barely nine years old, was left with only a small sum of lucky money saved from childhood—about a few hundred thousand—and an ancestral house. For an ordinary family, this would be considerable, but for someone accustomed to having everything he desired, it amounted to nothing.

Soon, the banks came to collect debts. The family’s luxury cars, villas, and mansions were all taken away. Even the furniture was stripped and sold by relatives. Overnight, the once privileged child became destitute. Fortunately, the old house in the city’s older district was worthless enough not to be mortgaged.

Ye Feng used what little lucky money he had to arrange a simple funeral for his parents, then quietly moved back into the bare ancestral home. It was hard to imagine how a child not yet ten could be so resilient.

Most children faced with such calamity would have collapsed; perhaps nine out of ten could not withstand it. Yet Ye Feng, accustomed since childhood to his parents’ absence, possessed remarkable endurance and survived alone.

He became increasingly silent, rarely speaking.

In his youth, he tasted the bitter realities of life—when his family was prosperous, relatives were warm and close. Once fallen from grace, they kept their distance as if avoiding a plague. Uncles and others vanished after the funeral, and Ye Feng never considered relying on them.

He had been a privileged son, living in mansions and wearing designer clothes, always clever—likely inheriting his parents’ intelligence. It was hard to imagine how a child raised in such comfort managed to withstand such adversity.

At fourteen, with no financial support, Ye Feng attended school by day and sought odd jobs at night. At first, no one would hire him—child labor was illegal—but eventually, a kind restaurant owner let him help in the kitchen, just enough to get by. After sixteen, he was officially of age, and his jobs became more varied: he repaired computers, played piano in hotels, packed goods in supermarkets. Though young and facing difficulty finding work, his keen mind, sincerity, and handsome, likable appearance helped him gradually make a living.

Take this café, for example. Since Ye Feng started working there, he had drawn numerous female students, office workers, and young wives to dine, much to the manager’s secret delight. Ye Feng vaguely knew that much of his life story had been deliberately leaked by the mischievous manager to spark conversation among these women.

As a result, the café’s business flourished, and the manager’s profits soared.

Yet even in the toughest times, Ye Feng never did anything wrong. His father had once told him: “In this world, walk upright and straight! If you do evil, even if no one catches you, you cannot escape your own conscience.” Though not deeply attached to his parents, Ye Feng had always remembered this.

That morning, Ye Feng unusually requested half a day off. Dressed neatly, he went early to Sky Tower to buy the dress his girlfriend Shujuan liked best, then bought a rose at the flower shop. By the time he finished, it was nearly half past ten—he had arranged to meet Shujuan at noon.

Ye Feng approached Shujuan, placed the rose and dress before her, and whispered in her ear, “Happy birthday.”

Shujuan seemed uneasy, startled by Ye Feng’s sudden words. “You’re so naughty, you scared me!” she said, feigning coquettishness to cover her embarrassment. “Are these gifts for me?”

Ye Feng nodded.

She quickly opened the package, visibly delighted. “Thank you!”

Though Shujuan looked happy, Ye Feng sensed an unnatural stiffness in her smile, and sighed quietly to himself.

For a moment, neither spoke. Shujuan put away the gifts, and both stood at the counter gazing toward the main entrance.

Time passed swiftly; the clock reached noon while they remained silent, both having taken the afternoon off.

Heart Song Café was the site of their first date, and today they met there again. After work, they chatted idly as they walked to the café, sitting by the window and ordering coffee.

From the moment they entered, neither spoke a word, and the atmosphere grew awkward.

At last, Ye Feng broke the silence. “Shujuan…”

But before he could finish, Shujuan interrupted, “Feng, may I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” Ye Feng replied, already guessing what she would say.

“If one day I left you, what… would you do?” Shujuan asked softly. If the café weren’t so quiet, Ye Feng might not have heard her.

Ye Feng was taken aback. “What do you mean by ‘leave’? I don’t understand. Didn’t we agree to always be together?”

“Well… for example, if I found a boyfriend behind your back.” Shujuan forced herself to finish, her voice trembling.

“I’ve never thought about it, don’t joke around. Today is your birthday—a happy day! Why ask such strange questions?” Ye Feng’s smile faltered.

Silence returned.

After five minutes, Shujuan sensed something was wrong. Gritting her teeth, she resolved to make things clear. “Feng, let’s break up.”

Ye Feng intended to say “I wish you happiness” and walk away gracefully, but instead he instinctively asked, “Why?”

“You’re a good person—you love me too much! I feel so sorry for you, truly… I wish our love had a future… but the path ahead is too rough, too hard… you treat me better than you do yourself… I really can’t repay you… I’m so sorry… love without a future is painful… I’m hurting so much now… We should have had a future together, weren’t we happy before? Why has it come to this? But the distance between us grows ever wider, I suppose it’s fate that brings us together but leaves us apart!” As she spoke, Shujuan began to sob.

Ye Feng was never one to drag things out. Since the words had been spoken, there was nothing left to salvage. He tried to smile at Shujuan and said in a deep voice, “I wish you happiness,” then placed money for the coffee on the table and left.

By dusk, a gentle rain had begun to fall, quietly enveloping everything as if intent on covering the figure in its midst. The handsome face showed the flush of intoxication, lips redder than usual, reminiscent of a vampire against a pale backdrop. He wore a loose white shirt, his slender hands gripping an unfinished bottle of liquor. Beside him sat over a dozen identical bottles.

If one ignored his striking, ethereal features, anyone might assume he was just another drunk.

That drunk, of course, was Ye Feng. This was the first time he had been drunk since his parents’ death, and the first time he had felt such heartbreak. He no longer remembered how much he had drunk; his mind was clouded.

The rain grew heavier, obscuring Ye Feng’s figure. After some time, he became somewhat lucid but still dazed; his clothes were soaked through, and though it was June, the weather was not warm. With blurred consciousness, Ye Feng struggled to stand and staggered forward, unaware that he was heading toward the highway.

It was already three in the morning; the streets were deserted, the occasional car passing along the road. A faint glow from a green traffic light shone at the intersection…

Suddenly, a car screeched to an emergency stop. A shocking streak of crimson traced a beautiful wound of blood, the trembling red narrating endless desolation. A liquor bottle flecked with blood tumbled far away, casting a seductive glow.

Ye Feng, barely conscious, heard the sound of someone calling for help.

Then his awareness slowly slipped away…

Am I about to die…

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