share time: 2025-08-25 17:43:17
Seeking revenge, Song Wan approaches the coldhearted CEO in a wheelchair, cultivating a garden of thorns for him. He seizes her throat, sneering, 'Did you think I wouldn't recognize you?' Suddenly, surveillance footage flashes back to a year ago—a rain-soaked night where he cradled her bloody body, howling in agony. The wheelchair is both his prison and his disguise; he had long set a trap waiting for her fall. As barbed vines coil around her ankles, his bloodshot eyes fix on her trembling lips: 'Now it's your turn to taste captivity.' In the darkness, the poison thorns entangle them both like desperate lovers, each thorn piercing the other's heart, blooming into a twisted red rose.
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