The heavy iron door behind him slowly closed as he stepped out of the prison building's shadow, sprinted a few steps, and plunged into the embrace of the sunlight.
He closed his eyes, tilted his head up towards the sky, deeply inhaling the fresh air.
The sun enveloped him gently, like a mother tenderly caressing her son.
Around him, the trees were lush, the flowers fragrant, and the birds chirped merrily on the branches, as if singing to celebrate his return.
I'm back...
He opened his eyes, brimming with a deep smile.
Casually, he tossed his simple luggage, making a graceful arc before it landed in the roadside bushes.
Then, he strode forward, crossing the sunlit street and disappearing into a dark, secluded alley...
The lock on the security door was rusted. After much effort, he sawed it open and entered the dead-still house.
He stood at the door, observing the disheveled room, corners filled with cobwebs and dust.
This was his home.
He had finally returned to his home.
After pausing at the doorway for several seconds, he slowly entered the musty, dusty room, heedless of the dirt and webs, and started rummaging through the nooks and crannies.
Finally, he found a knife.
It was just an ordinary kitchen knife, already rusted. But after weighing it in his hand, he nodded in satisfaction. Then, he found a whetstone.
He closed the door and began to sharpen the knife with focus and effort, quickly breaking into a sweat.
Only when the knife glinted brilliantly, reflecting his gaunt, fervent face on its blade, did he stop.
He drew the blade across his rough finger, and droplets of crimson blood fell.
Good, the knife was sharp enough.
He laughed maniacally, sucking the blood from his finger.
His gaze swept the room, pausing on a wooden photo frame on the table. The frame held a group photo with the inscription: "The tree of friendship remains evergreen."
The photo showed two men and a woman standing under a lush pine tree, smiling brightly.
He stared at the photo for a long time, then suddenly swung the knife, splitting the wooden frame in two. The shattered frame and glass fell to the floor...
His name was Li Tian. Eleven years ago, he was one of Binbei City's top ten outstanding youths, a promising entrepreneur barely 25 years old with a fortune of a million.
Had he not met the man in the photo, his life might have been entirely different – full of glory, success, flowers, applause, and adoration. But he had met that man, and everything changed.
That man was his childhood friend, whom he trusted immensely. He had placed him in a key position in his company with a generous salary. They had promised to share joys and sorrows, and he had kept his word. But that man...
That man emptied his company, leaving him in debt, stole his woman, and flaunted their relationship publicly.
More cruelly, the man had tampered with the company's taxes. He was accused of tax evasion of seven million yuan and sentenced to seven years in prison.
For seven years, over 2,500 days and nights, he had waited for this day.
He wanted revenge!
He would kill him, the man who heartlessly destroyed everything he had!
Only death could compensate for what he had done.
Meanwhile, in a spacious and bright luxury office, a woman with short, neat hair sat at her desk, deep in thought, gazing out the window.
This was Binbei City's top business building, offering a magnificent view of much of the city.
The woman seemed troubled, her brow furrowed in inescapable memories.
On her desk was a calendar, with one date circled in red.
August 12th, today...
As she was lost in thought, the office door opened.
Without knocking, a middle-aged man in a crisp gray Pierre Cardin suit, his hair meticulously combed and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, walked in and stood by her, gazing out the window.
"Today is the day Li Tian gets out of prison," she broke the silence.
"I know," the man replied indifferently. "You circled it on the calendar a long time ago."
"Aren't you going to say something?" the woman asked.
"Nothing," the man replied curtly. "What's there to say about someone who's been in jail for seven years? He's practically a waste."
"Aren't you afraid he'll seek revenge?"
"Revenge?" The man turned slowly, his face showing scornful disbelief. "What does he have to seek revenge? Strength? Power? Influence?"
The woman gave him a disdainful look, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes, "The power of hatred."
The man listened quietly until she finished speaking, then murmured, "To me
, there are only two kinds of people in this world: the rich and the poor. I chose to be rich, by any means necessary. I don't care about right or wrong, so I don't bother about conscience."
Silence filled the room.
"Let's talk business then," the man said more lightly, patting her shoulder. "I plan to meet him, give him some money, give him a chance to live out the rest of his life happily. If he still wants trouble, I'll deal with it. Don't worry, I've got it all under control. From the moment he left prison, his every move has been within my grasp..."