Ye Zhiqiu died on his twenty-eighth birthday. As the sharpest sword of the billionaire Ye family, she was mercilessly sacrificed during the financial crisis and became the "scapegoat" of the family and her fiancé Lu Chengan. She shouldered all the infamy and jumped down in despair. When she opened her eyes again, she was back ten years ago. This time, she will not be the sword, but the sword holder. Looking at the familiar date on the calendar, Ye Zhiqiu's eyes were terrifyingly calm. She didn't make huge waves, she just dialed a phone number that no one knew, sent an anonymous email, and bought a junk stock that no one cared about. The butterfly's wings are already fluttering. At this time, the high-spirited Lu Chengan was standing in the spotlight, enjoying the glory of being the proud son of heaven. He didn't know that from this moment on, his proud life, every decision and every heartbeat would be within Ye Zhiqiu's calculations. The opportunities he thought were her carefully laid traps; the allies he believed in were the pawns she quietly laid; the foundation of the business empire he relied on for survival had already been eaten away by her inch by inch. "Everything hasn't been going well lately, and I always feel like there's a pair of eyes staring at me secretly." Lu Chengan pulled off his tie irritably, suspiciously. His close friends advised him: "You are overthinking. Who has the ability?" On TV, the financial news was reporting on a mysterious investor who made precise short selling and became a god overnight. Ye Zhiqiu turned off the TV, picked up the red wine, and whispered softly to his young but calm face in the mirror. "Lu Chengan, welcome to the hell I designed for you." ** Tags:
