The "Black Box" auction was a place where the sun never shone. Beneath the neon-soaked streets of the capital, it was a theater of greed where the air was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco, aged cognac, and the faint, metallic tang of cold iron.
In the center of the stage, an iron cage sat draped in heavy, midnight-blue velvet. It remained motionless, a silent monolith amidst the hum of the city's most dangerous elites.
Lin Qingzhou sat inside the cage, his back straight despite the heavy shackles weighing down his wrists.
His shoulder-length hair, black as a raven's wing and soft as spun silk, fell forward, partially veiling his face.
Under the harsh, artificial spotlight that managed to seep through the velvet cracks, his skin looked like translucent porcelain—so pale it was almost ethereal.
He didn't look like a prisoner; he looked like a piece of exquisite jade that had been misplaced in a den of thieves.
He could hear the murmurs of the crowd through the fabric. The whispers were like the rustling of dry leaves, full of a hunger that made his skin crawl.
"The Hidden Pearl of the Lin family..."
"I heard she was kept in a tower, never seeing the sun until the King was shot."
"Look at that silhouette. To think the Lin empire would end with a girl in a cage."
A bitter, cold smile touched Qingzhou's lips, though no one could see it. On his right cheek, a tiny, dark mole sat just where his skin creased when he smirked—a delicate, feminine detail that had been his curse since birth.
Combined with his soft jawline and slender frame, the world had always seen a "Princess."
They had no idea that the "Princess" had spent his nights studying the very ledgers that had eventually led to his father's execution.
He remembered climbing the banyan trees at the Lin estate as a child, his clothes stained with dirt, far away from the silk and makeup he was now forced to wear.
Those days were a rare period of happiness, a carefree joy that had been discarded and replaced by something unrecognizable.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer's voice cut through the murmurs, booming with a professional, heartless excitement.
"The final lot of the evening. The sole remaining asset of the fallen Lin Empire. The 'Hidden Pearl' herself, Lin Qingzhou."
With a dramatic flourish, the velvet drape was yanked away.
The sudden glare of the stage lights was blinding. Qingzhou didn't flinch. He let his hair fall back, exposing his face. His eyes, framed by long, thick lashes, were like frozen lakes—beautiful, but capable of drowning anyone who stepped too close.
The room went as silent as a cicada in winter.
It wasn't just his beauty that stunned them; it was the sheer weight of the tragedy. To see the bloodline of the Underworld King reduced to a commodity was a sight that made even the most cold-hearted tycoons hold their breath.
"The opening bid starts at fifty million," the auctioneer declared, his eyes scanning the sea of hungry faces.
"Sixty million!" a voice shouted from the front row.
"Seventy-five!" another chimed in, the greed in the room almost palpable.
Qingzhou watched them with a detached melancholy. He felt like a ghost watching his own funeral. He wondered if his friends from childhood were among them, hiding in the shadows of the VIP booths.
But they must have long forgotten him. Even if a pitiful impression remained, the distance created by status and time would never allow them to reach out.
"One hundred million."
The voice didn't come from the floor. It dropped from the VIP balcony like a guillotine. It was deep, resonant, and carried an undeniable weight of authority.
Fu Jingshen didn't even look at the stage. He sat in the darkness of his booth, his long legs crossed, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, bored pattern on the armrest.
A thin plume of menthol smoke curled from his lips, obscuring his icy expression. He looked like an emperor deciding which province to burn next.
The auctioneer's gavel hung in the air, frozen. No one dared to raise their paddle. To outbid Fu Jingshen was to sign your own death warrant. The Lin family had already learned that lesson—their empire was now nothing but smoke and rubble, all because they had crossed this man.
Clang.
"Sold! To President Fu."
The cage was rolled off the stage and transported to a private suite behind the curtain. The air here was quieter, filled only with the hum of the air conditioner and the steady, terrifying click of leather shoes on marble.
Lin Qingzhou sat on the floor of the cage, his red silk cheongsam pooling around him like spilled blood. The door to the suite opened, and the scent of woodsmoke and cold rain entered before the man did.
Fu Jingshen walked over, his silhouette broad and imposing, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the light. He reached out, his gloved hand catching the bars of the cage with a metallic ring.
He didn't say a word at first, his predatory eyes scanning the "Hidden Pearl" with a mix of fascination and pure, unadulterated malice.
He signaled for the guard to open the door.
The lock hissed, and Fu Jingshen stepped inside the narrow, suffocating space. He reached out, his thumb catching Qingzhou's chin, forcing him to look up.
"The Lin family's daughter," Fu Jingshen mocked, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
"Your father died like a dog. Now, you will live like one."
His thumb brushed over the small mole near Qingzhou's eye. "You're even more fragile than the rumors suggested. A pity. I was hoping for something with a bit more spirit."
Qingzhou stared back, the small dimple on his cheek appearing as his lips curled into a sharp, icy grin.
"President Fu," he whispered, his voice vibrating with a low, masculine resonance that shattered the illusion of the daughter instantly. "I'm afraid your 'Pearl' has a bit of a flaw."
Fu Jingshen's pupils contracted. The hand on Qingzhou's chin froze.
Qingzhou leaned forward, the iron collar around his neck clicking against Fu Jingshen's knuckles. "My father didn't have a daughter. You've spent a hundred million on a son who wants nothing more than to see you in the ground."
The silence that followed was heavy. Fu Jingshen didn't pull away. Instead, his gaze darkened, his thumb tracing the line of Qingzhou's jaw with a terrifying, newfound interest.
"A son?" Fu Jingshen let out a low, dark laugh that made the hair on Qingzhou's neck stand up. "To miscalculate by a thousand miles... How delightful."
He leaned in, his breath hot against Qingzhou's ear. "Since you've spent twenty years pretending to be a girl, Lin Qingzhou, I think you'll find that I can be a very demanding 'Master.' Whether you're a pearl or a stone, once you're in my cage, you don't leave until you're broken."