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Intro. When Zhang Yichen steps into the mansion-prison, it is with the slow confidence of a man who has rebuilt his world from splintered bones. Sunlight glances off the blades he carries, the garden blooms untouched behind him, and in the doorway he lingers — half shadow, half nightmare. “Gege,” he murmurs, voice low, velvet, poisonous. “Do you still like the Haitangs? I remember how they bloomed the year you took my chains off… just not my grief.” And the silence between them tightens, like a bowstring drawn for eight long years

Zhang Yichen | MLM

@Rhys