In the luxurious mansion of Shenzhen, the morning sun had entered, but warmth had not. Anya descended the stairs, hoping that perhaps today Zain's demeanor would be different. After all, it was his birthday. Yet, seeing the scene below, her heart sank. The house was completely empty—no Zain, no Kiyan, no sign of life.
On the table, Zain's black coffee cup, half-full, had now gone entirely cold. Anya remembered Shiya's ominous warning: "On the birthday, the boss becomes like a living corpse. Where he goes, nobody knows."
Part 2: The Tomb of Memories
Far from the city's glittering lights, on a desolate slope of a hill where even the winds seemed to sigh, lay three graves in a row: Zhou (mother), Jia (younger sister), and father.
Kneeling on the cold ground was not the tycoon Zain Yan, but the ten-year-old Jiarrui, whose childhood had been reduced to ashes twenty years ago on this very date. Trembling, he placed his hands on the chilled earth of his mother's grave. Tears fell from his eyes, disappearing into the dry grass.
"Mom… I'm back again," his voice trembled like a wounded bird. "Today I turn twenty-seven. People call me powerful, yet even now, when I close my eyes, I feel small and helpless before that burning wreckage."
Part 3: The Conflict of Hatred and Love
He rested his head against the gravestone. "I… I wanted to bring her here today, Mom. Anya. I wanted you all to meet your daughter-in-law. To show her that I have a family too. But how could I bring her?"
Bitterness suddenly laced his voice. "She is connected to that Lu Kang bloodline! The same person who destroyed our world. I hate her, Mom… but when I punish her, when I trap her in darkness, every sob of hers pierces my chest like a dagger. I want to ruin her, yet I burn myself in the process. I have become a ruthless, heartless wolf, driven mad by the deaths of my loved ones."
Part 4: The Terrifying Past—The Gift of Death
Jiarrui's memories took him twenty years back. Zhenyu had adopted him after the house burned down. He had hoped his father might have survived. On the third day after being adopted, the young Jiarrui returned from school and saw something behind the roadside bushes.
It was his father's corpse. Someone had brutally murdered him and left him there. The little Jiarrui waited three days for his father to come home—and what did he find? A lifeless, cold body lying beside his school bag. That day, his screams split the sky, and Jiarrui died in a way. 'Zain' was born—not for love, but for vengeance.
Part 5: Three Wishes and a Rusted Dagger
Zain took a small object from his coat pocket—a rusty old cake-cutting knife. It was the same knife he had brought twenty years ago for his birthday.
Looking at it, he remembered three wishes that had never been fulfilled:
To become a grown man—so that no one could intimidate him. (He had succeeded, yet still lived under the shadow of fear.)
To protect his mother and little sister—(a battle he had disastrously lost.)
For his father to return home safely—(something that would never happen for eternity.)
"Happy Birthday, Jiarrui," he whispered to himself, plunging the knife into the soil with all his strength. His eyes were now red, and the tears replaced by the old icy hatred. He stood up, brushed the dust from his coat, and walked toward his car without looking back.
As evening shadows deepened, Anya had spent the day preparing. She had hoped that perhaps today might ease some of the tension between them. The hall was decorated with soft fairy lights, twinkling like stars. Colorful balloons hung from the ceiling, and a small cake rested on the table. Instead of harsh electric lights, she lit candles in scattered places, giving the room a peaceful glow.
Anya wore her best outfit and, holding a match, lit the last candle—when suddenly, the mansion's heavy door slammed open.
Part 2: The Beginning of the Storm
Zain entered. His eyes were red, his face as silent as a graveyard. When his gaze fell upon the fairy lights, balloons, and burning candles, his blood boiled. To him, this was not decoration, but salt poured onto wounds he had just reopened at the cemetery.
"What is all this nonsense?" Zain's voice thundered across the hall like a bolt of lightning.
Anya froze, dropping the match. "Boss… I… I was just trying to—"
Part 3: The Scene of Destruction
"Stop it!" Zain roared, lunging toward the table. In a single motion, he dragged the tablecloth off. The cake crashed to the floor, candles went out, and glassware shattered.
His anger did not stop there. He tore the fairy lights from the walls like a madman. "Who gave you the right to touch this house without my permission? Do you think this is a day for celebration? This is the day of my destruction!"
Anya pressed against the wall, trembling, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't know… I just wanted to give you a little happiness…"
Part 4: Two Broken Hearts
"Happiness?" Zain approached, his face flaming with rage. "You are from the Lu family, and even your shadow cannot make me happy. Next time you dare, I will burn you along with this house!"
He grabbed his car keys and stared at the destroyed cake with eyes full of hatred. With heavy steps, he left, starting his sports car and speeding away from the mansion, tires screeching. He needed to escape—from his memories and from Anya's tearful eyes that were weakening him.
Part 5: The Silence of Mourning
The mansion sank into darkness again. Only the smoke of extinguished candles and broken glass remained. Anya sat on the cold floor, gathering the scattered cake with trembling hands.
She cried, not knowing the depth of Zain's pain. And Zain fled, unable to accept that Anya's small attempt had, for a fleeting moment, melted his stone-like heart. Both were in the right, yet the hatred between them had denied them the chance to truly understand each other.