That day was no different from any other. The only thing that was the same was the door left slightly ajar.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have gone home that day.

Toward his blood-related sister, he always carried guilt in his heart. The joyful memories of childhood had, upon growing up, turned into a bloody, poisonous thorn—not easily removed, and now he was always thinking of making amends.

When he heard the sounds and tried to step back, it was already too late.

Through the crack in the door, he glimpsed a silver-white body lying on the bed. The chest and abdomen rose and fell, the lines of the body seemingly at death's door. The long, pale neck hung limply over the edge of the bed, tilted back without strength.

That was his sister's lover.

Yu Zhi quickly realized this fact.

He should have turned and left, ideally making no sound and disturbing no one.

He had already turned to leave when his gaze met a pair of eyes that suddenly looked his way.

Those were eyes devoid of any carnal desire. Even amidst an intimate act, those eyes were distant, cold, showing no intertwining of pleasure and dominance. They were silent and spotless, to the extreme.

He froze.

His feet were nailed to the ground. This time, there was no escape, no avoidance.

He watched his sister's lover, unsure if he was afraid or excited. The body that should have remained silent and still gradually came to life, attempting to overturn old dreams of the past.

That face was pressed into the soft, thick bedding. Amidst a vast expanse of white, black hair lay scattered messily, like underwater plants in the depths of the sea, never seeing the sun.

In over twenty years of life, this was the first time Yu Zhi had witnessed such a beauty, and he even felt an impulse to reach out and pull it up.

Thankfully, he hadn't forgotten—that was his sister's lover.

His passion cooled, and reason returned.

If only it could have ended there.

But that woman appeared more and more frequently—sometimes at the company, sometimes at home. By day, she was his capable assistant; by night, she was his sister's exclusive lover.

And so it continued.

Day after day, reason eroded completely.

Eventually, he resolved to drown himself in it.

He took his sister's lover for himself, surrendering fully to pleasure and domination. His sins were unforgivable; he was damned beyond redemption; he sank, devotedly, with no chance of making amends.

No room for turning back.

No possibility of escape.

Awake, he sank deeper, unable to pull himself out, beyond salvation.

Occasionally, he dreamed, returning to his youth.

As a teenager, awakened by a nightmare on a rainy night, he went out in search of his mother. Drawn by a door, he peered through the crack and saw his father in a shameful state with a caged bird, and fled in terror.

Longing for his mother's comfort, he instead stumbled upon her tryst with a maid in the dark of night. Under the clear moonlight, their entwined bodies slithered like silver snakes.

In the dream, the world collapsed, his understanding was rebuilt, and the only constant was his heart, living in fear. But even that heart remained forever in the nightmare.

After coming of age, haunted by childhood fears of penetration and being penetrated, Feng Jiang's arrival became the key that opened that door for him. When he learned that this door led to hell, the fear he had suppressed for so long turned into irrepressible excitement.

He longed for release.

No matter from whom.

Guided by desire, pushed by Feng Jiang, that beautiful soul—once sacred, now defiled—at a certain moment in adulthood, completely became one of the participants. Only this time, the positions were entirely reversed.

The one who once watched, now the one who experienced.

Then still outside the door, now already inside.