Lin Zhiwei was the rose personally raised by Huo Tingxiao, the Ninth Master of the Huo family.
Everyone in the capital's elite circles knew that the cold and ruthless living king of hell doted on the young woman to the very core of his being. She was the most precious flower in his glasshouse: if she wanted the wind, he gave her the wind; if she wanted the stars, he wouldn't settle for the moon.
Until the night she died saving him, caught in a web of scheming.
As she drowned, she heard her stepsister whisper smugly, “That weed in my way has finally been pulled out!”
When Lin Zhiwei opened her eyes again, she had been reborn at eighteen!
In the luxurious bedroom, Huo Tingxiao emerged from his bath, half-naked, water running down his taut waist and stomach. The scent of blood mingled with the cool fragrance of cedar. He tipped up her chin, his gaze as deep as an abyss. “Zhi Zhi, why are you crying in my bed in the middle of the night? Who hurt you?”
The innocence of her past life was shattered. This time, she had returned as a black-hearted lotus with thorns!
She suppressed her bone-deep hatred, looked at the wound on his arm with tearful almond eyes, and tugged lightly at his towel with her fingertips. “Uncle Jiu… you're bleeding… does it hurt?” She would use his immense power to make her enemies pay for their blood debt!
Huo Tingxiao's gaze darkened.
He saw the venomous hatred in her eyes, yet loved her even more for being both obedient and wild. He bent down to whisper in her ear, declaring the possessiveness etched into his very bones:
“My little rose, do whatever you want.”
“If the sky falls, Uncle Jiu will hold it up for you!”
Lin Zhiwei nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks as she rubbed against his palm with trusting affection. But when she turned away, a cold smile tugged at her lips. In this life, every demon and monster was going to hell!
