The vast expanse of the world was like a wasteland, and Daisy trudged through it alone. Aside from herself, she had no one to rely on.
Two young, wealthy, single women naturally attracted a flock of men. Steven Xu stood out among them. He ran an antique business, was in his early thirties, stood six foot two, with a handsome face, long legs, impeccable manners, and effortless charm.
The moment he laid eyes on Lily Tao, something lit up inside him.
They began dating soon after.
Daisy shared Lily's taste in books, clothes, and TV dramas—and her taste in men.
She found it hard to tear her eyes away from Steven. Every time she saw him being affectionate with Lily, her stomach felt like it was freezing over.
Daisy gave Lily a stake in the company. Lily's family was burdened—her younger brother was still in school, and her father needed an expensive surgery. Daisy was generous, paying for everything, convincing herself she owed Lily nothing more.
When Daisy wanted something, she had to have it, no matter how difficult the path.
She frequently sent Lily out of town to handle difficult clients, then used investing in Steven's company as an excuse to find every possible opportunity to get close to him.
Lily was stunningly beautiful and impressively talented, but she had a fiery temper. When she was angry, she'd chew Steven out mercilessly, and she disdained cooking. They solved every meal by eating out or ordering delivery.
Daisy's looks were, at best, pleasant—nowhere near Lily's league. So she played to her strengths. Every time she arranged to meet Steven at the office, she'd bring homemade pastries or soup. He never stopped praising her culinary skills.
What she didn't tell him was that she'd enrolled in professional cooking classes and was now formally trained.
She never declared her feelings or made overt advances. Instead, she offered care and support in a quiet, persistent way, slowly weaving herself into his daily life.
Through Steven, Daisy gradually gained an understanding of the antiques business. A wildly audacious idea formed in her mind—bolder than sending Lily across a thousand miles.
She hired artisans to create high-end antique reproductions, then hiked to a remote, uninhabited mountain, pasted delivery forms onto the replica vases with addresses set to the same location in ancient times, and buried them in the ground. Later she dug the vases up. The result: the vases had effectively spent hundreds of years underground, becoming genuine antiques that could pass carbon-14 dating.
After multiple tests, she discovered items could be transported as far back as the Qianlong era. Yuan blue-and-white porcelain worth hundreds of millions was out of reach. As for traveling to the past herself, Daisy never dared to try—she feared getting stuck in another era with no way back.
She sold these antiques through Steven. No matter how he pleaded or probed, she kept the source a secret. She loved him, undoubtedly, but her heart would never fully open.
One evening, after working late, Daisy invited Steven to her house for a late supper.
After they ate, Steven stood on the villa's balcony playing the violin, the enormous moon behind him. He looked like he was serenading her from within the moonlight itself. The haunting melody felt like a silken cord, gently binding her.
That night, Steven didn't leave. They made love in the bedroom beneath a massive skylight, the intensity of the pleasure tossing her like a cresting wave before plunging her into the depths. Fireworks seemed to burst before her eyes—the entire night sky collapsing, brilliant for an instant, then turning to ash.
The seemingly unattainable Steven Xu was just a man after all—he hadn't lasted long before betraying his girlfriend.
She held his sleeping form in her arms. She should have felt the triumph of a victor. Instead, a chasm seemed to have cracked open inside her, whistling with cold wind that nothing could fill—a chasm straight down to hell.
She felt a twinge of guilt toward Lily. After all, she'd stolen her boyfriend. Given Lily's intelligence and perceptiveness, she surely knew at least something. Yet she acted as though nothing had changed—which only made Daisy more anxious, convinced that Lily was secretly plotting something.
Lily posted a WeChat status with a quote from BoJack Horseman: "There's nothing worth clinging to in the past. The only thing worth looking forward to is what lies ahead."
Daisy stared at it for a long time. How much did Lily actually know? What was her next move?
Lily handled the company's day-to-day business. Since its founding, several rounds of financing had occurred. Daisy held 50% of the shares, while Lily owned only 10%. But Lily was a far superior manager, commanding real authority and respect among the employees, and winning the confidence of the board's other members.
Daisy's poor relationship with the other board members was longstanding. As founder, she kept a stranglehold on the finances, living by the principle that "every penny saved is a penny earned"—which meant the money all stayed in her pockets while other shareholders saw limited returns. Lily's philosophy was "there's enough for everyone," refusing to clutch the purse strings and pursuing mutual benefit. Compared side by side, who was better suited to run the company was obvious.
Recently, one of Daisy's stubborn, ill-considered decisions had cost Lily and several other shareholders dearly. The board's dissatisfaction with her was rapidly festering.
Amid all this turmoil, Daisy fell seriously ill and had to undergo surgery.
While she recovered at home, Steven called daily to check in, claiming business was too busy for him to visit in person but promising to make it up to her later.
Lily, juggling a million things, still made time to visit, always bringing nourishing soup to help with wound healing. Daisy would smile sweetly and say it was nice to have a friend who truly cared.
The moment Lily left, she'd pour the soup down the toilet.
The mole Daisy had planted near Lily reported that Lily had been meeting privately with several shareholders recently, complete with photographic evidence.
Not only had Lily been meeting shareholders—she'd also been seeing the supposedly "too busy for visits" Steven. They were often spotted dining, shopping, and bowling together.
Lily must be planning to join forces with the other shareholders and kick Daisy off the board while she was at her weakest—then steal back her boyfriend while she was at it.
The soup, the solicitous visits—just smoke and mirrors to keep her from getting suspicious.
On a Saturday evening, Lily showed up at Daisy's apartment with homemade soup and several side dishes.
"I made fish head tofu soup." Lily opened the thermal container. "Try it while it's hot."
"I'll get bowls," Daisy said, rising from her seat.
As she walked toward the kitchen, the glass door reflected Lily's movements. She saw Lily pull out a small glass bottle and pour something into the soup.
"Why aren't you eating?" Daisy asked, cradling her bowl. Lily was just sitting beside her, watching.
"I made it specially for you. I'm allergic to fish, remember?" Lily smiled. "Go ahead, eat it while it's hot."
"Lily, if I've done anything to fall short, please forgive me." Daisy raised the bowl to her lips, then set it down. "I'm sorry."
"What's wrong with you today?" Lily looked at her, puzzled.
Daisy silently sneered. What an actress—Award-worthy composure.
"I forgot to grab a spoon. Could you get one from the kitchen for me? It's too hot to drink straight from the bowl."
Lily stood up and turned her back.
Now!
Daisy slammed a delivery form onto Lily's back with the speed of a lightning strike. The force was so great that Lily lurched forward.
A blue flash. A faint crackling sound. Lily vanished into thin air without a trace—not even a scream.
The address on the delivery form was the Mariana Trench, over ten thousand meters deep. At that depth, even microorganisms were scarce. Her body might never decompose—frozen in amber, time suspended, youth preserved forever.
Daisy collapsed onto the sofa, drained, cold sweat soaking her skin.
Now no one in the world except her knew about the delivery forms. Even if Lily hated her, she couldn't threaten her anymore. The company and Steven would ultimately belong to her alone.
Daisy dumped the soup and smashed the thermal container into the trash. When she picked up the small glass bottle, she froze. The label clearly read "Rose Salt," and the powder inside had a faint pinkish hue.
Salt should be added to soup right before eating for the best flavor. Daisy actually knew this. But when she'd seen Lily's actions, the only word that had flashed through her mind was "poison."
The crack in Daisy's heart seemed to widen. Bone-chilling wind whistled through, freezing her entire body. Not from guilt—from fear. Deep down, she knew she'd always been afraid of Lily, afraid of anyone more capable than her. They made her feel insecure, replaceable, pushed toward extremes. It was their fault—the world's fault.