Xia Xiaoman remembers everything—the blood on the pavement, the shattered glass, the whispers of a debt too large to repay—everything except how her parents truly fell to their deaths. As an investigative journalist, she infiltrates the world of Li Moting, the ruthless heir to a financial empire, armed with nothing but a recorder and her perfect memory.  

"Three therapy sessions a week," he offers, fingers steepled, his voice colder than the rain outside the window. "In exchange for your silence."  

But what begins as a calculated game of revenge spirals into something far more dangerous. He scales a crumbling factory to save her from kidnappers, his hands bleeding, yet claims it’s merely "asset protection." She discovers ledgers in his study that implicate his family in her parents’ ruin—yet finds her childhood lullaby tucked in his desk drawer, the notes still intact after twenty years.  

On the night the truth comes crashing down, he kneels in the snow, pressing a pair of worn ballet flats into her hands. "Hate me if you must," he murmurs, "but let me remember you properly this time."  

And when she plays back the tapes—the ones she swore were evidence—all she hears is the unguarded hitch of his breath when she entered the room, the quiet, damning confession: *", Xia Xiaoman you were never part of the plan."*

**8:50 AM**. The press conference hall was packed with journalists. The air buzzed with the whir of cameras, flashes of light, and hushed murmurs. Xia Xiaoman stood behind the podium in a sharp black suit, the USB drive inserted into the computer.  


The screen displayed: **"Files Ready—Upload?"**  


Her thumb hovered over the confirmation key.  


Just then, her phone vibrated—an encrypted message appeared:  


**"Warehouse_7_Surveillance_Footage.avi"**  


Xia Xiaoman opened the video. The footage showed a seven-year-old Li Moting strapped to a laboratory chair, while at the control panel stood her father, Xia Mingyuan.  


"Final test," her father's voice was chillingly calm. "Subject No. 7, execute memory wipe protocol."  


The camera panned to the corner—a little girl in a white dress stepped forward, holding a syringe.  


"Remember," her father crouched down, wiping tears from her face, "this isn't harm. It's salvation."  


The girl nodded mechanically and approached Li Moting.  


The video cut to black. A final line of text appeared:  


Chapter 36 - Countdown to Broadcast