A platinum black card with a dark pattern of flying birds, and a finger covered in mud completed an absurd encounter under an overpass washed away by heavy rain.
When Lin Muyao huddled in the shadow of the bridge pier, he had long forgotten that he was once the free-spending heir of the Lin Group. The car accident tore his memory apart, leaving only a tattered Armani suit and a mysterious black card sewn into the lining of the suit. When he rubbed the card surface with his frozen fingers, the crystal lamps and champagne towers that flashed in his mind were always washed away by the sour smell of rotten rice in the bridge cave.
