A second ago, he was Mourning, the man who was making waves in Southeast Asia.
The next second, he became a young actor struggling at the bottom of China and worrying about his father's sky-high medical expenses.
After being brushed off again and again because of "no background" and calculating how to survive three days with fifty yuan in my pocket, these thoughts became pale and luxurious.
He put away his fangs, polished his acting skills with the insight that once controlled people's hearts, and dealt with the strife with a mind that assessed the situation.
He worked hard to make money for the sake of his father's life.
The obsession for revenge was ironed out by his father's increasingly rosy cheeks, and soaked by the warm tea at Si Yu's hand.
The bloody memory of the Golden Triangle gradually faded.
He found that making clean money to support the people he loved was more fulfilling than pointing a gun at other people's heads; winning applause for one's ability in the sun was more reassuring than being an underground king who always speaks the truth.
Intention: When killing becomes a thing of the past, love and fireworks are the strongest salvation and way back.