Li Fei'an once made the world's powerful people frightened. What he stole was not the treasure, but the arrogant heart of an arrogant person. The head of a country shot himself to death for him, and the world's richest man spent all his wealth on his behalf, just to ask for his mercy for a moment.
Now that the glory is gone, he can only take on the most miserable dirty work. Help the resentful woman to weave irrefutable evidence of her ex-husband's infidelity, and take revenge on the innocent girl's heartless old lover.
How miserable.
Until someone handed a photo to Li Fei'an. The man in the photo was buttoned up to his chin. He was calm and cold, as cold as a saber.
The director of the State Secret Service, Lu Sting, is said to have some... Talents.
And Li Feian never fails.
*
Due to work needs, Lustin has a lie detector in his heart.
He is hunting a world-famous thief. The man in the file resembles a Victorian silver-plated letter opener, elegantly carved and with a faint blue edge.
The young man who was in the same room with him was melancholy and meek, like fragile porcelain. But every time Lu Ting said a word, his heart would alert the police at least three times.
The only reason Lu Ting tolerated him was that he was his sister's fiancé.
*
"Dear baby," Li Feian whispered against Lu Steen's earlobe, "meeting you is the biggest surprise in my life. The way you shoot makes my heart beat faster. I am completely in love with you."
Before he finished speaking, he pulled away with a laugh and pressed the detonator frivolously with his fingertips, detonating the explosive on Lu Siting's body. Li Feian turned around and returned to the glitz and glamour.
Until one day, he woke up in a cold prison cell, and a hand smelling of smoke and death grabbed his jaw like an iron pincer. The voice that was once as pleasant as a cold spring is now like a monster burned by fire, whispering hoarsely:
"Dear Wayne... Or should I call you Mr. Li Feian? There were lies hidden in your last sweet words."
The barrel of the gun thrust into his mouth was loaded.
"Then, I... Don't count as your 'dear baby'?"
Concept: A prison cell of freedom, a prisoner of despair
