On the day of my father's funeral, I realized that the relic he left for me was not a shabby "Principles of Accounting" but a key stained with blood and rust.
When I was publicly humiliated and broke off my engagement, and was trampled under the feet of the rich second generation, I gritted my teeth and opened the book. There was a name and a life-and-death debt hidden in every page.
I thought I was just an ordinary college student, but I didn't know that I had been standing on the edge of the precipice between black and white since I was born.
When those legendary "uncles" knocked on the door one after another late at night, I realized: some people were born in Rome, and I was born to rebuild the rules of the entire Rome.
