Everyone at school knows that the eldest daughter of the Sheng family paid three million for a blind male servant.
She had a lawyer draw up the contract: she would cover his medical bills, get him a place on the waiting list for a corneal transplant, and pay for his postoperative care. Three conditions: even if he was blind, his eyes could only turn in her direction; only she could touch him; and only she could put perfume on him. He signed without hesitation.
She thought of him as nothing more than a cheap possession with an exceptionally handsome face, until a dream jolted her awake in the middle of the night.
In the dream, at a press conference announcing his family reunion, he took off his blindfold in front of everyone. His eyes showed no trace of blindness. The financial headlines announced that the Sheng Group had defaulted on its debt and its actual controller was under investigation. Her father lay on the carpet in his office. She herself was dragged into a windowless room. In the darkness, all that remained were his newly sighted eyes, cold as stones just hauled up from the bottom of a well.
The next day, in front of half the class, she kicked over a chair and shouted at him to get over there and carry her bag.
Later, she thought he was too much trouble and stopped funding him.
Only when the funding ended did she learn that his blindness had never been his weakness. It was the knife he had kept hidden.
