The vacation estate in the hills outside Hong Kong was shrouded in the deep velvet of the night. Rayn had just woken up after an evening sleep—a necessary physical rest from the psychic intrusions plaguing his mind.
He dressed and walked into the grand dining room. He saw his mother, Valerie, putting the final touches on the ambiance. She had arranged beautiful, low golden lights on the balcony, transforming the space into an elegant, outdoor dining area.
The cool evening breeze, carrying the sweet fragrance of blue lilies from the garden below, gently swayed the dark hair of the family gathered on the balcony. Below them, the majestic Chinese mountains stood silhouetted against the twilight sky. The scene felt almost fictional, enhanced by the twinkling light insects that danced in the air.
On the table, a feast awaited: succulent roasted chicken and an array of fragrant Chinese meat dishes.
The elegant dinner was finally set up on the balcony, A perfect, inspiring backdrop for the evening's pleasure; Rayn, the skilled violinist, felt the sudden impulse to play, Picking up his instrument and comes to the balcony to play the violin.
Valerie, her black hair impeccably styled, watched with a warm smile as her elder son, Rayn, with practiced grace, drew his bow across the violin, filling the air with a beautiful, melancholic melody. Rayn's red eyes, a striking and unnatural shade in the golden light, moved with precision as he played. His younger brother, Ken, captivated by the music and the delicious food, happily reached for another piece of chicken. It was a perfect dinner night, a harmonious blend of family, food, music, and the breathtaking beauty of nature.
After the meal and the music concluded, Valerie excused herself, mentioning she needed to bed to get rest. Rayn and Ken were left sitting on the ornate black chairs, the full moon hanging high above, casting a silver sheen over the quiet veranda.
Rayn lifted his glass of ruby wine, the liquid reflecting the startling color in his eyes.
"Hey, Ken," Rayn began, his voice lowered. "Do you ever think about how far we've come? That we became this rich, and made our mother proud? Do you ever think about how incredible it is that she, a beautiful woman, chose me and treated me like her own son?"
Ken, grounded in the life he knew, replied immediately: "No! Because before I knew everything, I was simply in the home that I felt warm around. You were just my brother."
Rayn's gaze sharpened, the intensity behind his red eyes focusing on the deepest scar of his life. "But I have to think about it. When I was small, I only knew the face of the woman who saved me, and there is always a question buried in my heart: Who is my mother? Who is my father? Did I have any siblings? Do I have a grandmother, or at least any family member?" and he started saying :
"She's sleeping now," Rayn said, his voice profound, / "Our mother, Valerie, where true love is found. She gave me life when I had lost all plea, / Pulled me from silence and obscurity." He tapped the railing, smooth and cold and bright, / "This view, this palace, glowing in the night—/ They are not gifts, Ken. They are what I bought, / With every dollar I myself have wrought."
He continued, his confession stark and absolute:
"We built this empire from a single dime, / we stole the hours back from passing time. We fought the market, battled through the strife, / Because this wealth is the machine of life, / The weapon I created, sharp and vast, / To face the moment where we first was cast.
"You know the truth, the core of my old scar: / Not in a cradle, but beneath a star, / She found me, Ken, abandoned in the dirt, / A pile of trash, a baby meant to hurt. That is the launching pad of all this power—/ To prove I was worth more, in every hour.
"Now I am richer than the kings of old. / I hold the influence, the power, and the gold. / And every single cent is consecrated / To asking why I was so fiercely hated, / Or simply worthless, to my birth kin. I built this billion-dollar wall to win / The right to ask the question, loud and clear: 'What did I lack? Why did you disappear?' My fortune, Ken, is not a boast of fame; / It is the price I pay to find my name, / To force the silence of the past to speak. I am the strong one now, no longer weak. Valerie saved the body, gave the soul, / But I must make the fractured narrative whole."
He finished his wine. "Do you think I became rich not for money or not to earn something? No. I did it to make Valerie, our mother, happy, and also because I had a small reason: to find my family. When I become rich, I am going to introduce myself to the world, and then, if any of my family members saw me on television, they might come to me and tell me who they were and why they abandoned me. That is also one of my reasons."
Ken, digesting the weight of his brother's ambition, asked a critical question: "Why are they going to know that small boy is you, and how would they understand who you are now?"
Rayn revealed the final, painful detail, his voice almost a hiss. "Yes! The only thing they can find me by is the name and the red eyes that they gave me."
Ken paused, the sudden realization filling his mind with curiosity. "What are you talking about? Your name was put by our mother!"
Rayn replied: "You don't know this. When I was found by Mom, there was a single sheet of paper on me, and in that paper, the only thing written was my name: 'Rayn.' I now use her last name and become Rayn Li Zhang."
Just as Ken was about to ask more, Valerie returned to the balcony, holding a magnificent chocolate cake with lit candles—a cake that both Ken and Valerie had secretly prepared.
"Happy Birthday, Rayn, darling!" she announced, her voice ringing with joy.
The sheer, overwhelming force of this simple act of love—the fact that he didn't even remember his own birthday (December 31st) while they celebrated it with such devotion—caused Rayn's face to betray the struggle of his soul. A storm of feeling was trapped behind his straining gaze, where one lone tear, too heavy to be held, shimmered upon the very brink of his red eye, refusing its release.
Ken instantly comforted him with a warm hug. Rayn quickly regained his composure, cut the cake, and blew out the candle.
Before they could eat, a lady emerged from the shadows of the garden. Rhea, Ken's girlfriend, walked toward the golden light. Her brown hair and black eyes were striking, and her white dress stood out sharply against the dark night.
Rayn immediately focused his red eyes on her, his face snapping into its straight, businesslike mask. "Why is she here?"
Valerie looked confused. "Who is she?"
Ken, beaming, announced: "Mom, she is my girlfriend."
Valerie gasped, her shock dissolving into playful scolding: "Ken! Rayn! Why didn't anyone tell me? This is inexcusable!" She quickly composed herself and introduced herself.
Rhea, poised, gave the flowers to Valerie and the expensive watch to Rayn. Ken then demanded his gift.
"Where is my gift?" Ken asked.
Rhea smiled, stepped forward, and gave him a deep kiss on his lips.
The public display was too much. Rayn and Valerie immediately exchanged a look of shared, profound cringe, their instincts demanding a quick exit.
"I think we've had enough excitement for one night," Valerie muttered, pulling Rayn toward the hallway.
As Rayn and Valerie quickly made their escape from the balcony, the residual energy of Ken and Rhea's moment lingered, lending a surreal quality to the luxurious hallway. Valerie, fanning herself dramatically, leaned against a carved wood pillar.
"That," she whispered to Rayn, "is precisely why you prioritize data integrity over reckless human variables. That level of spontaneous, public affection is unquantifiable and frankly, terrifying."
Rayn, already retreating into his professional detachment, simply nodded, his red eyes fixed on an invisible point beyond the polished marble floor. "Agreed, Mother. The probability of such an event occurring in a controlled environment was negligible." He walked her to her bedroom door, maintaining the façade of the dutiful, emotionally reserved billionaire son.
Once alone, Rayn walked to his room, his mind finally free to confront the terrifying reality. He stood before his mirror, looking into the unnatural color of his eyes. Red. The single, undeniable marker of a life he never lived. The visions of war happening right now in Aetheleon and the gray smoke figure were escalating, refusing to be dismissed as mere stress dreams. The life of Rayn Li Zhang, the youngest self-made billionaire, was a perfect, stable cage, but the bars were beginning to bend under the pressure of his true, unknown heritage.
He needed more than money; he needed a map. The wealth was the key to global data access, to finding a faint whisper in the digital noise that could lead him back to the people who shared his eyes. He really wants to find his own family.