You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

The ambiguous and enchanting atmosphere that belongs to the master bedroom of Cloud Top Manor.

The heavy mahogany door kept it firmly locked in the gentle embrace of a constant 24 degrees Celsius.

And on the other side of this world.

It felt as if someone had brutally cleaved it in two with a rusty, blunt knife.

The screen suddenly plummeted.

They plunged all the way into the outskirts of Jianghai City, into the most remote and shady corner.

Jianghai City Women's Prison for Serious Offenders, Basement Level, Solitary Confinement Cell No. A.

The early winter cold wave has swept across the entire city.

In this cramped cell where no sunlight ever shines all year round.

The temperature was so low that it could freeze a person's bone marrow open.

The air was filled with a nauseating musty smell, mixed with the sour, damp scent of lime.

Most of the cement on the wall had peeled off, revealing the blackened bricks underneath.

The cramped, square space is less than five square meters.

Even an adult would find it difficult to fully straighten their arms.

On that heavy cast iron door.

There is only one observation window, no bigger than the palm of your hand.

A sliver of pale, murky light barely penetrated the corridor.

In the shadows of the corner.

A wad of tattered, grayish-blue fabric was trembling erratically.

That was Lin Qinghan.

The former female CEO of the Lin Group, who once held sway in Jianghai City's elite circles and was always escorted by bodyguards and luxury cars.

now.

She was squatting on the cement floor, which was covered with a thin layer of moisture.

The winter prison uniform he was wearing was clearly two sizes too big.

It hung loosely on her emaciated body.

It's like putting an empty flour sack over a breathing skeleton.

In just a few months.

The company went bankrupt and was seized; the parents were forced to cut off their fingers and end up homeless.

Then there's Bai Yueguang, whom she chased after even at the cost of running away from her arranged marriage, who turned on her in the police car.

Finally, there was the ten-year prison sentence handed down in court.

A huge drop from the clouds to the bottom of the mud.

It looks like a roaring heavy road roller.

It completely crushed the last nerve in her brain that held her rationality.

She's gone mad.

He went completely mad; he couldn't even remember who he was.

But there's one thing.

It was like a bloodstained nail, driven deep into her brain.

It can't be pulled out, and it can't be touched.

Lin Qinghan's hair had turned mostly white.

It was withered like weeds in late autumn, with a few gray hairs and debris stuck to it from the ground.

It was draped messily over her shoulders.

That exquisite face was originally maintained with medical-grade skincare products costing tens of thousands of yuan per set.

Now his face is deeply lined with wrinkles, and his cheekbones protrude high.

His cheeks were sunken, his eyes bulged outwards, and they were covered with hideous red blood vessels.

My lips were so dry and cracked that a thick layer of white skin had formed.

A trace of dried saliva still clung to the corner of his mouth.

Her hands were withered and dry, like chicken claws.

He was tightly clutching a sharp little pebble that he had somehow managed to pry off.

The edges of the stones are very sharp.

On the plaster walls of this narrow prison cell.

Line by line.

The two characters were densely engraved.

"Chen Yuan".

Some were carved very shallowly, and the handwriting was messy.

Some of the stones cut her fingertips because she used too much force.

Fresh blood was flowing down the wall.

Those two words were dyed a shocking dark red.

But she seemed not to feel any pain.

Or rather, the physical pain is far less intense than the hallucination of a thousand ants gnawing at one's heart in the mind.

"Chen Yuan... Chen Yuan..."

As she carved the words, her thin shoulders trembled nervously.

Its dry, shriveled lips moved up and down, making a hissing sound like a broken bellows.

"You haven't made me porridge yet..."

"I've ironed all your clothes..."

"What is that female tycoon? She's just a mentally ill lunatic."

"I'm your fiancée! I'm Lin Qinghan!"

She suddenly stopped carving the words.

He suddenly turned his head.

He revealed a twisted and fanatical smile as he looked at the empty iron door of the solitary confinement cell.

That smile contrasted sharply with her current, inhuman, ghostly appearance.

It's even more terrifying than the ghost in The Ring.

"Did you hear that?!"

She screamed at the air, waving her hands wildly in mid-air.

The silver handcuffs on his wrists clanged and rattled loudly with each movement.

"Chen Yuan is now the president of Xingchen Venture Capital! He's a god who controls trillions of assets!"

"He's coming to pick me up today in that 100 million dollar bulletproof supercar!"

"I'm going to be the richest woman in Jianghai City!"

"You lowly people who look down on me, all of you, kneel down!"

The frenzied shouting hasn't ended yet.

Severe stomach ulcers caused by years of hunger and irregular sleep patterns.

It happened without warning at that moment.

That familiar, agonizing pain.

It was like a blunt knife with barbs, churning and cutting wildly inside her stomach.

She bent over in pain.

He curled up like a shrimp out of water, his head hitting the cold cement floor hard.

Boom, boom, boom.

She was banging her head against the ground while gasping for breath.

Cold sweat mixed with tears washed two distinct black and white lines down his dirty face.

"It hurts... Chen Yuan, my stomach hurts..."

She rolled on the ground, clutching her stomach tightly with both hands.

His fingernails dug into the rough fabric of his prison uniform.

A halo of light appeared in his eyes.

In her hallucination.

The rusty iron door was pushed open.

The tall, aloof man was wearing the same faded shirt she had once disliked.

She was holding a bowl of warm medicinal porridge.

He was kneeling on one knee beside her bed.

He looked at her with those deep, gentle eyes that seemed capable of drowning someone.

"Don't be afraid, the pain will go away after you drink this bowl of porridge."

The sounds in the hallucination were so clear, so real.

Lin Qinghan's tears flowed like a burst dam, gushing wildly from her swollen eyes.

It hit the cement floor, spreading out patches of water stains.

"Chen Yuan... I'll never mind the smell of cooking oil on you again..."

"I don't want Gu Zi'ang anymore... He's a liar, a vampire who drains the Lin family dry..."

"Please come back... I'll give you all the shares of the Lin Group..."

She cried her heart out.

His fingers scratched haphazardly on the ground, trying to grab the hem of the phantom's clothes.

But what the fingertips touched.

All that remained was the cold, icy cement floor and the sticky snot dripping from my nose.

Chen Yuan in a hallucination.

His expression suddenly changed.

He stood up and looked down at her.

That look in his eyes was just like that day outside the venture capital building.

It looks like a pile of non-recyclable garbage.

Indifferent, disgusted, devoid of any human warmth.

Then, he turned away without hesitation.

He walked toward the woman who wore a black veil and looked as noble as a queen.

"No! You can't leave!"

Lin Qinghan let out a hysterical scream.

He suddenly sprang up from the ground.

I didn't even feel it when my knee was scraped.

She lunged at the wall covered with names.

Press your hands firmly against the rough wall.

It felt like embracing a real, tangible person.

"I'm the boss's wife...this is my seat..."

She muttered to herself as she continued drawing on the wall with her finger.

Nails become damaged due to long-term malnutrition and friction.

It had long since been torn and split open.

It revealed tender flesh with alternating red and white stripes.

But she just couldn't stop.

The obsession in my mind has turned into a morbid madness.

She leaned her head against the wall, a strange smile playing on her lips.

Those bloodshot eyes revealed a chilling emptiness and fanaticism.

She grinned foolishly and stretched out her hand to the air, her withered nails scratching harsh, bloody marks on the wall: "Chen Yuan, have you come to take me home to cook porridge...?"