The Thorn Birds of Neon

Lu Zhiyi stood at the pinnacle of a business empire. At thirty, her motto was “efficiency and profit,” until she met Jiang Ye.

The prickly young man clung desperately to her car door in the pouring rain, trying to protect a box of old books soaked by the storm. Shards of glass cut into his palm, but he wouldn't let go. His eyes reddened as he shouted, “I'll pay you back! But the books can't get wet!”

She had only been a coldhearted bystander passing through the old district, but among the yellowed pages in that box, she found a sketch tucked inside. It showed the sunset over a demolition zone, weeds on a crumbling wall, and a boy carrying a sketchpad, his shadow stretching longer than the high-rises in the evening light.

“I'll buy this drawing.” She held out a black card, her tone as imperious as ever.

But Jiang Ye slapped it away. Blood mixed with rainwater and dripped onto the paper. “I'm not selling! I'll earn the money to pay you back myself. Tell me what you need and I'll draw it, until I've paid you back in full!”