British ports are always gray, like an old piece of letter paper soaked by sea water. Lin Ling was huddled in the deepest part of the container, her long, straight black hair scattered on the floor, like spilled ink. She was so burned that she thought she was going to die at the age of eighteen.
But fate tore a crack open the moment the iron door was pushed open.
One is the invisible helmsman of a global energy empire, a maritime overlord, and a business giant who scares his opponents at the negotiation table. The cuffs of his dark shirt were rolled up, and his slender eyes were like two cold lights in the dim light, carrying a French sense of playfulness and danger. He squatted down, pushed her hair away from her face with his slender fingers, picked her up horizontally, and handed her over to his brother, a 28-year-old genius surgeon with double doctorates in Oxford AI + Medicine, and the eldest son of the Harrington family. He was always restrained and rational, but when facing her, his fingertips would tremble slightly.
Purpose: falling in love