The Hourly Room.
Li Changfeng's new "home" was a relic of the past a hotel built three decades ago that had never seen a renovation. For twenty yuan a day, he had secured a single room of less than eight square meters. It smelled of damp concrete and cheap tobacco.
Sitting on a rickety wooden stool, Li carefully pulled the black notebook from his bag. He opened the first page. The text was written in an impossible script, yet the meaning burned into his mind like hot lead.
Rule 1: The Death Note grants the power to dominate the life of any living creature.
Rule 2: To kill, the writer must have the target's face in their mind. If a name is written, the individual will die of sudden cardiac arrest within 30 seconds.
Rule 3: The cause and trajectory of death can be specified, provided it falls within the realm of "reasonable behavior" for the target.
Rule 4: Further laws shall be unveiled upon the first sacrifice.
Li's breath hitched. His heart pounded against his ribs so violently it felt like it might burst before the cancer could claim him. disbelief and ecstasy warred behind his dull eyes.
"Is it real?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "If this is true... then I am no longer a dying ant."
He stared at his reflection in a cracked mirror. Six years of prison and the gnawing rot of cancer had turned his hair gray and his skin the color of parchment. He was thirty, but he looked fifty.
"Old Principal... our blood debt can finally be paid."
A cold, jagged sneer twisted his lips. Six years was a long time. Fang Yun's face would have aged, his features sharpened by greed. To use the Note, Li needed to see him. One last time.
The Titan's Den.
A thirty-minute taxi ride took him twenty kilometers away to the headquarters of the Heng Tai Real Estate Group. As Li stood at the base of the twenty-three-story glass monolith, a bitter sense of irony washed over him.
This building this monument to corporate greed sat exactly where the orphanage once stood. The playground where he had spent his few happy years was now buried under tons of steel and marble.
He walked in. The lobby was a hive of activity fashionable executives, wealthy collaborators, and busy couriers. In his tattered clothes and unkempt beard, Li looked like a ghost haunting a gala. No one stopped him; he was too insignificant to be a threat.
"I'm looking for your President, Fang Yun," Li said, leaning against the polished marble of the front desk.
The receptionist, a young woman in a sharp suit, smiled professionally. "Do you have an appointment, sir?"
Li shook his head. "Just tell him... Li Changfeng. From the orphanage. Six years ago."
The girl's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she nodded and made the call. Within minutes, a woman in a professional suit with cold eyes and high heels descended.
"Follow me," she said, not even looking at him.
The elevator climbed to the eighteenth floor. The silence inside the gold-plated cabin was suffocating. When the doors opened, she led him to a massive office with floor-to-ceiling windows.
Fang Yun sat behind a mahogany desk, focused on a stack of documents. He didn't look up.
Li didn't speak. He stood there, letting his eyes trace every line on Fang Yun's face. He memorized the shape of his nose, the curve of his arrogant jaw, the way his eyes crinkled with self-importance. He was imprinting a death warrant into his brain.
Ten minutes passed before Fang Yun finally dropped his pen. He looked at Li, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face.
"Six years," Fang Yun mused, leaning back. "I didn't expect you to change this much, Li Changfeng. You look... broken."
"I have you to thank for that, Mr. Fang," Li replied, his voice eerily calm.
Fang Yun chuckled, a dry, hollow sound. "I warned you back then. Don't go against Heng Tai. You thought a few laws and some 'truth' could bring down a mountain? Look around you. Heng Tai has cleared a dozen lands like yours. We've buried plenty of people. And yet, here we are, taller than ever."
He sighed, almost like a disappointed father. "If you had just taken the money, you'd be healthy and rich today. Instead, you're a beggar."
Li nodded, showing no anger. "The Old Principal taught me that kindness must be remembered for a thousand years. He was the only person who loved me. If I did nothing after his murder, my life would be a waste of his kindness."
"A pity," Fang Yun shook his head. "You had potential. So, why are you here? Looking for a handout? A job?"
Li Changfeng straightened his back, a sudden, terrifying clarity filling his dull eyes.
"Nothing so grand," Li said softly. "I just came to give you a piece of advice."
Fang Yun arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Prepare for your funeral, Mr. Fang."
Without waiting for a response, Li turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the powerful man staring at his retreating, stooped back with a confused, mocking grin.
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