The Lie Detector Says My Sweet Talk Is Fake

Li Feian once struck terror into the hearts of the world's powerful. What he stole was not treasure, but the pride of the arrogant. A head of state shot himself for him, and the world's richest man gave away his entire fortune, all to win a moment of Li Feian's favor.

Now his glory has faded, and he can only take the most sordid jobs. He helps neglected wives fabricate ironclad proof of their husbands' infidelity, and helps naive young women get revenge on their heartless exes.

How the mighty have fallen.

Until someone hands Li Feian a photograph. The man in it has his collar buttoned up to his chin, his expression calm and severe, as cold and sharp as a military knife.

Lu Siting, director of the National Secrecy Bureau. Apparently, this gentleman has certain... talents.

And Li Feian never misses.

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For work-related reasons, Lu Siting has a lie detector in his heart.

He is pursuing a world-famous thief. In the file, the man is like a Victorian silver-plated letter opener: elegantly engraved, with a blade the color of deep blue.

The young man sharing a room with him is melancholy and docile, like fragile porcelain. But every time he speaks, Lu Siting's heart sounds the alarm at least three times.

The only reason Lu Siting puts up with him is that he is his younger sister's fiance.

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