Lu Shaodong rented an eight-square-meter basement room near Wudaokou. It was a place where sunlight never reached, smelling of damp concrete and old memories, but for him, it was the first real "home" he’d ever owned. To save enough for our life in Beijing, he worked grueling hours at a performance tuning shop by day and rode his beat-up second-hand bike to the Tsinghua library every night.

The arrogant, untouchable heir to the Lu empire now had motor oil permanently etched into the lines of his palms, yet he would smile the cleanest smile the moment he saw me.

But reality’s shadow found us faster than the Beijing wind.

Friday afternoon, as I stepped out of the physics lab, I saw her at the campus gates—my mother. She looked haggard, her eyes reflecting a manic, desperate subservience.

"Ling Yin!" She lunged at me, gripping my arm so hard I felt my bones creak. "You have to save me! Your uncle skipped town with a massive debt to loan sharks. They’re at my door every day. If you don't go back, they’ll kill me!"

I felt a cold dread settle in my chest. "Mom, I’m a student. Where would I get that kind of money?"

"You have it! Isn't Lu Shaodong the son of a billionaire? He must have a secret stash!" She lowered her voice, her tone laced with a sickening calculation. "Or... or just meet with Boss Chen back in Nanshi. He said if you marry him, that three-million-yuan debt disappears. He says he doesn't mind that you were with Lu Shaodong..."

"Enough!" I shoved her away, bile rising in my throat. "What do you think I am? A piece of cargo?"

"I’m your mother! I gave you life!" she shrieked, drawing stares from passing students.

Suddenly, the roar of an engine cut through her scream. Lu Shaodong skidded to a halt. He pulled off his helmet, his eyes as cold as glass. He strode over and shoved me behind his back.

"Young Master Lu, talk some sense into her..." My mother’s eyes lit up the moment she saw him, as if she’d found a winning lottery ticket.

"I’m not a 'Young Master' anymore," Lu interrupted icily. He reached into his pocket and slammed a bankbook onto a stone pillar nearby. "There’s 200,000 yuan in here. It’s every cent I have left from selling my collections and working. Take it, get out of Beijing, and never show your face to Ling Yin again."

"200,000? What is that supposed to do?" She eyed the book greedily but remained unsatisfied.

"If you say one more word," Lu stepped closer, the dormant "Demon King" aura exploding out of him. He leaned in, whispering like a devil in her ear, "I will show you exactly what a man with nothing left to lose is capable of. The Lu family is gone, but I still have a thousand ways to ruin a man like Boss Chen. Try me."

Terrified by the sheer violence in his gaze, my mother collapsed to the ground, snatched the bankbook, and scrambled toward the station without looking back.

The setting sun stretched our shadows long across the pavement. Lu turned to me, the lethal edge in his eyes vanishing, replaced by a deep, aching guilt. He looked at his rough, stained hands and asked quietly, "Do you think I was... terrifying just now?"

I didn't say a word. I just wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face in his oil-scented jacket.

"No," I whispered. "I think that was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Yin," he laughed self-deprecatingly, kissing the top of my head. "I might never be able to give you that 'luxury' life again. We really only have that basement now."

"In physics, energy is conserved," I said, looking up at him through my titanium lenses, my gaze steadier than it had ever been. "Lu Shaodong, as long as you’re here, my universe is stable. That basement can be our lab. We’ll build our own miracles."

He looked at me, and a fire ignited deep in his eyes. It wasn't rage—it was hope.