Synopsis
At twenty years old, Bai Yu crossed paths with that arrogant, cold-blooded man. But every time after, staring at the crumpled red bills scattered across the bed, Bai Yu's eyes would go red. "Mr. Song, can I… not take the money?" Song Yu straightened his tie, throwing a sideways glance at the figure on the bed, voice flat. "Then what do you want?" Bai Yu swallowed, his throat moving, but no words came out. The man walked to the bedside and tilted the young man's chin up, his expression going darker. "Bai Yu, never forget what you are. Not everyone…
