On a late night in August, a torrential rain poured down on the city.

Thick clouds convoluted like splashed ink, and a snow-bright bolt of lightning tore through the sky. Muffled thunder rumbled as bean-sized raindrops beat against the forest, making the leaves rustle. Beside the winding mountain road was a steep cliff; the exposed earth and rock, battered by the downpour, looked ready to collapse. On the empty road, two figures supporting each other staggered forward in a run. The rain was so heavy it was impossible to open one's eyes, yet the fear that threatened to burst from their chests kept them from stopping.

Amidst the thunder that resounded through the heavens, something seemed to be rapidly approaching.

The overwhelming rain could cover many sounds, like shouts, car engines, and gunshots.

A splash of warmth hit his cheek. Strange. His skin, which should have been soaked through and numb from the rain, actually felt an unusual warmth, as if his mind already knew what was about to happen. The hand holding him let go. He looked down, only to be shoved away by someone who didn't even reach his shoulder.

His vision suddenly brightened. Car headlights pierced the thick darkness, two beams of light like sharp swords cleaving through the rain, mercilessly rushing toward him.

The person's mouth opened and closed, screaming something at him hoarsely, but the sound was drowned out by the rolling thunder and roaring rain, like a bizarre and heart-pounding silent play.

A huge bolt of lightning split the sky. In the brilliant white light that flashed for an instant, he finally saw the face clearly, its features soaked by the rain.

—The two words he shouted were, "Run!"

The next moment, the speeding car hit him, sending him flying like a rag doll.

"No!"

Just as thunder cracked outside the window, Huo Mingjun shot up in bed. His chest heaved violently, and an irrepressible cough rushed to his throat. Dripping with cold sweat, he clutched an old scar on his chest, feeling the flesh beneath his hand burn and throb with a pulsing pain.

His arm, braced on the edge of the bed, was tense with the effort of holding back, veins popping. A long while later, Huo Mingjun finally stopped coughing. He got out of bed to pour himself a glass of water, but all desire for sleep was gone.

For ten years, he had often dreamed of this experience, and each time, the dream would end abruptly at the frame of the car crash. But today's dream was exceptionally different. A decade was enough time to blur a memory beyond recognition; Huo Mingjun could no longer clearly picture the person from his memory. But tonight, he had finally seen his face.

The man he had met at Lanyue Club that night reappeared in his mind. Frowning, Huo Mingjun picked up his phone, opened the investigation report in his email, and skipped directly to the attached photos.

The picture was a recent photo of Xie Guan. He wasn't wearing makeup, and small imperfections on his skin were visible. However, his features were handsome and well-defined, with a high forehead, a straight nose, and bright, clear eyes. Though his clothes were plain, he exuded a rare, serene temperament, which was a world away from the drenched, screaming person in his dream.

Makeup and plastic surgery could alter facial details, but not the bone structure that was already set. Disregarding temperament and clothing, Huo Mingjun couldn't help but feel that if the person from his dream had grown up, he would look just like Xie Guan.

He knew there were many people in the world with similar looks—he had even deliberately searched for them—but none had given him such an intuitive sense of resemblance as Xie Guan.

The thought was insane, yet like a vine that had taken root, it absorbed his doubts and grew rapidly, clinging tightly to the seemingly unbreakable "truth."

Huo Mingjun didn't sleep for half the night. The next morning, he dragged Huo Zhikuan out of bed and had him inquire about Xie Guan's situation. But when Huo Zhikuan called him back at noon, he brought some bad news.

"Lost contact?"

Coming and going was the norm in the entertainment industry. If Huo Mingjun hadn't asked, no one would have paid any attention to the whereabouts of a minor artist.

He was the one who'd said not to bother with it before, and now he was the one bringing it up again. No matter how clearly Huo Zhikuan saw through these fickle relationships, he couldn't say it to Huo Mingjun's face. He could only try his best to shift the blame to the company: "A few days after that incident, his former company, Xinghui Pictures, terminated his contract... You couldn't say they made things difficult for him, but there was some conflict, and he basically left with nothing. Xie Guan sent his resume to all the major film and television companies, but no one wanted him. After that, he completely disappeared."

"Have the police received a report?"

Huo Zhikuan offered a weak attempt at comfort, "Young people these days only have a fleeting interest in the entertainment circle. After struggling for a few years without making it big, they naturally switch careers. You shouldn't worry too much. Maybe he just got disheartened, quit the industry, and went back to his hometown to farm."

"Go investigate." Huo Mingjun's words mercilessly cut off his retreat. He said emotionlessly, "Don't stop until you find his exact location."

Huo Zhikuan imagined Huo Mingjun's expression based on his tone and suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. He quickly agreed, "Yes, yes, I'll get right on it."

Huo Mingjun put down his phone. His secretary, who had been waiting outside, came in and presented the schedule for his review. "Chairman Huo, you have a flight to Hong Kong at one o'clock this afternoon. Tonight, Chairman Liang Jiancheng of Longfeng Group and his eldest son, Liang Chen, have arranged a welcome banquet for you. The reception from our Hong Kong office is also ready."

"Understood. Have the person in charge of the Cuiping Villa project come to my office for a short meeting in half an hour."

That evening, the Huo family's private jet landed in Hong Kong.

Longfeng Group and Hengrui Group had collaborated in the mainland a few years prior, and the two families were on quite good private terms. As the current head of the Huo family, although Huo Mingjun was nearly twenty years younger than Liang Jiancheng, he interacted with him as a peer. Even Liang Jiancheng's eldest son, Liang Chen, had to respectfully call him "Mr. Huo."

Huo Mingjun's trip was to discuss Hengrui's acquisition of a real estate project held by Longfeng Group, so the dinner that night was an arduous affair. The table was full of impeccably dressed people, and the conversation was filled with back-and-forth probing. Even the fine delicacies on the plates seemed to be cloaked in the glint of blades, where the slightest misstep could get you picked clean like fish bones.

Liang Jiancheng was an old fox. Huo Mingjun knew it was impossible to get any results out of him over a single meal, so after a few rounds of drinks, he used travel fatigue as an excuse to return to his hotel to rest. Liang Jiancheng feigned concern with a few words, then cunningly suggested that his eldest son, Liang Chen, see him off, which would also be a convenient opportunity to take a look at the buildings and shops in question.

Huo Mingjun remained noncommittal, but Liang Chen breathed a sigh of relief. He hastily invited Huo Mingjun into the car and told the driver to head for the northern harbor district.

This was the first time Liang Chen had met Huo Mingjun. He had heard Liang Jiancheng talk about this man before with no small amount of praise, so Liang Chen had naturally categorized him as one of those "other people's children." But seeing him today, he felt the man was somewhat different from what he had imagined.

He was very young and handsome. Perhaps due to fatigue, his face was pale, giving him a somewhat sickly air. This fragile, harmless appearance was extremely deceptive, but the moment he opened his mouth, something unusually hard and cold hidden within was revealed.

A second-generation heir coddled in luxury couldn't imagine how Huo Mingjun had attained his position or seized such power. Liang Chen hadn't yet cultivated his father's cunning, but he felt a sliver of apprehension based on animal instinct alone.

Even as midnight approached, the northern harbor district was still as bustling and lively as daytime, a veritable city that never sleeps. They had originally planned to take a quick stroll around the area and leave, but the open-air parking lot was overflowing with cars, so crowded that even a mouse would have to run on its tiptoes. Young Master Liang, a local tyrant and a model dandy who never cared for traffic rules and dared to brake anywhere at any time, could only stare wide-eyed and yell, "What? No parking spots? Drive me to the security booth, I'm going to call their property manager!"

At these words, even Huo Mingjun, who had been resting with his eyes closed, lifted his eyelids to glance at him, thinking with amusement: This impulsive idiot actually held back until now to show his true colors. Young Master Liang is truly a master of concealment.

The driver hurriedly said, "Please calm down, sir. If you two gentlemen don't mind, we can drive around to the back of the building to park. Not many people pass through there, it's just a bit secluded."

Huo Mingjun gave an indifferent nod. Liang Chen was still indignant, "I really don't know how they manage this place. Would they turn my dad away too? This is outrageous."

The driver didn't dare to breathe, driving with his head down in trepidation. The only one who could have responded, Huo Mingjun, couldn't be bothered with him. The Rolls-Royce glided silently into the massive shadow cast by the towering building and came to a steady stop in a small alley.

Through the gap between the buildings, one could see the splendid, flowing neon lights outside and the sky tinted red behind them, a world completely different from the dim corner they were in. Liang Chen took a deep breath of the cool, sea-breeze-laced air. After the assistants and bodyguards from the other car had gotten out, he made a gesture toward Huo Mingjun. "Mr. Huo, this way."

Huo Mingjun followed his lead. He had walked less than ten meters when his gaze unintentionally swept across a corner of the building's wall, and his steps suddenly halted. "Wait."

It was a fleeting instant, so fast it felt like an illusion, but he saw someone who absolutely should not have been here.

The building had a basement hall. Perhaps for aesthetic reasons during its design, the skylights were set particularly high, exactly half a meter above ground level. The glass windows, covered with iron grilles, were coated in dust, but one could still make out a stage-like area inside. A bright spotlight shone on the center of the stage, illuminating a long-unseen face.

The scene, the lighting, even the angle, shockingly overlapped with Huo Mingjun's dream from the previous night. It was as if two blurry sketches had been laid one on top of the other, vaguely piecing together a corner of a past eroded by time.

"What's down there?" Huo Mingjun pointed at the glass window through which the light was shining. "Where's the entrance?"

Liang Chen was stunned. "Huh?"

The driver had to step up again to save this useless waste of space. "This building is quite old. I remember the basement used to be a theater, but it seems to be abandoned now. Though, film crews often come here to shoot scenes."

Huo Mingjun's heart stirred slightly. "Take me over there."

Even as they reached the basement entrance, Young Master Liang couldn't figure out how a perfectly fine "escorted tour" had suddenly turned into a haunted house adventure. The staircase reeked of age and disrepair. The incandescent light overhead was dim, and cold drafts blew through the empty corridor. Apart from their footsteps, the faint sound of seductive, lingering music drifted from the distance, tugging at one's soul.

The atmosphere here was dismal and gloomy, truly a prime location for hauntings and hangings.

Liang Chen cowered behind his two bodyguards, his calves trembling nonstop, as timid as a quail. Huo Mingjun, however, seemed oblivious to his surroundings. With a chilling aura and a built-in immunity-to-all-poisons effect, he strode like a meteor to the door of the underground theater and pushed it open.

The music suddenly blared. The venue was too noisy, and the staff, busy with the shoot, didn't even notice the uninvited guests at the door.

Huo Mingjun looked toward the center of the stage, illuminated by the spotlight. A dozen or so seconds later, when he understood what was being performed on stage, his expression abruptly darkened into the gloom that precedes a volcanic eruption of rage.

The man who had crossed paths with him as if by an ill-fated connection, the "out of contact" Xie Guan that Huo Zhikuan had mentioned, was on stage stripping.