Su Nian lived in the Su family for six years.
I ate from Su Boyuan, stayed in Su Yan's room, and put my hand on the side of the pillow every night - touching the copy of "Three Hundred Tang Poems" left by my mother underneath.
She thought she was an orphan. I thought my parents died in an accident. I think everyone around me has good intentions.
Until two o'clock in the morning, a phone call came into the room that shouldn't have been there.
Until something appeared in Su Yan's study that shouldn't have appeared.
Until she touched the middle of the book page - a hard piece with a date engraved on it.
03.11.
The date on the brake record. The date on the maintenance sheet. The date of dad's accident.
Gentleness is Shen Qingwan's shell. Caring is Su Yan's tool. The person who looked at her profile in the car at night - it wasn't just a coincidence either.
She lives her life being counted by three layers of eyes. Can't trust anyone. Can't walk through the door.
There is only one book in hand. The book contains the trump card that dad left behind.
Intention: The truth will not save you. You have to open it yourself.