Premonition Dreams and the Longevity Lock

The icy rain slammed against his face, carrying the earthy smell of mud.

Ji Mian struggled to climb out of the sludge, but his body felt as if pinned down by an invisible giant hand, unable to move. He saw his expensive suit jacket torn to shreds, soaked in filthy water, clinging tightly to his cold skin. All around him were the roaring sounds of machinery and coarse laughter, every syllable like a venom-tipped needle stabbing into his eardrums.

“…Look, it’s the canary the Ji family has raised for nineteen years.” “Tsk, soft and delicate, but unfortunately a fake.”

He lifted his head, his vision blurred by the rain. Not far away, a tall, straight-backed figure stood in the shadow of a tower crane, like a silent stone statue radiating danger. The man wore a set of faded, worn-out work clothes; his face beneath the safety helmet was indistinct, except for a pair of eyes that glowed in the dim light like a wolf's.

Those eyes were fixed on him.

Ji Mian's heart clenched under that gaze, almost stopping. He knew who he was. Cheng Yan. The Ji family's true son. The one who should have had everything, yet had spent nineteen years rolling in the dust of a construction site.

In the dream, Cheng Yan walked toward him, each step crushing the last shred of Ji Mian's luck. He crouched down, his rough thumb brushing across Ji Mian's mud-smeared cheek, the force carrying no trace of pity—more like inspecting an item about to be discarded.

Then he reached out, his aim clear, toward Ji Mian's neck. There was nothing there, but Ji Mian felt a sharp phantom pain, as if something was being forcibly ripped out from his flesh and skin.

It was a Longevity Lock.

A Longevity Lock he had never seen, yet in the dream it was achingly familiar—one that belonged to Cheng Yan.

The moment the lock was taken, an old scar on his neck suddenly burned hot—it was the mark of teeth Cheng Yan had left on his nape on a night long ago, when he had lost control. Once upon a time, he could delude himself into thinking of it as a rough, possessive brand. But at this moment, that bite mark was nothing but cold mockery, like a discard stamp burned onto livestock.

Cheng Yan stood up, casually pocketed the Longevity Lock, and never looked at him again.

The jeers around him grew louder. He heard the voice of the Ji family's driver, respectful and indifferent: "Young Master Cheng Yan, the master and mistress are waiting for you to come home."

The rain fell harder, washing away the last trace of color from his face. He was abandoned in that cold mud, like a worn-out counterfeit, cast aside without mercy.

"No… don't…"

Ji Mian sat bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving violently, cold sweat soaking the back of his silk pajamas.

Outside the window, the night was deep and everything was still. Soft velvet mattress, centrally regulated air conditioning, the cedar incense he always used—everything was comfortable, luxurious, without a trace of the mud and cold from his dream.

He panted, lifting a hand to touch his neck. Smooth, delicate, no Longevity Lock—only that faint old bite mark, the blood vessels beneath the skin still pulsing wildly, as if the lingering heat of the dream had not yet faded.

He was having that dream again.

Ever since half a year ago, when he had accidentally learned that he was a switched fake son, this nightmare had haunted him relentlessly. Everything in the dream felt so real—so real that every time he woke, he couldn't tell where reality ended and illusion began.

He threw off the covers, got out of bed, stepped barefoot onto the cool wool carpet, and walked to the enormous floor-to-ceiling window. Outside was the most elite富人区 in City A, lights glittering like a river of stars. This was the Ji family's home, the place he had lived for nineteen years.

But here, nothing truly belonged to him.

His parents, his elder brother, everything he owned—it was all built on a massive lie. And the man named Cheng Yan was the rightful heir to all of it.

Ji Mian lowered his eyes, his long, thick lashes casting a small shadow beneath his gaze, concealing all his fear and unease. He knew he couldn't just sit and wait for doom. From the moment he'd learned the truth, he had secretly started investigating Cheng Yan. He needed to know everything about that man—his family, his work, his personality… Only then could he find a sliver of hope, a way to avoid being utterly crushed when the truth finally came out.

But the more he uncovered, the more desperate he became.

Cheng Yan's life was the complete opposite of his. Working on construction sites, carrying bricks, operating tower cranes, mingling with all sorts of people—his temperament was said to be withdrawn and violent, like a wolf that had grown up alone in the wild. Would someone like that willingly let him, a usurper, continue living a life of luxury?

Ji Mian didn't dare to think about it. The only thing he could do was to get to the direct evidence of the baby swap before anyone else… and destroy it.

As long as there was no evidence, he would always be the Ji family's second son.

The morning sunlight filtered through the clouds, spilling into the elegantly arranged dining room.

Wen Shuya pushed a glass of warm milk toward Ji Mian's hand, her tone as gentle as ever: "Mianmian, didn't sleep well again last night? You look so pale."

Ji Mian looked up, forcing a sweet smile: "No, I just had a dream."

"Have you been watching those silly movies again?" Wen Shuya shot him a reproachful look, but her eyes were full of affection. "I'll have the kitchen make you some calming soup today."

Ji Mian's heart tightened, as if gripped by a soft hand. This was what he was fighting so desperately to keep. He had been frail since childhood, and Wen Shuya had poured all her heart and love into him. He couldn't imagine how she would look when she learned that the son she had cherished for nineteen years was a fake.

"Thank you, Mom." He lowered his head, sipping his milk in small mouthfuls, hiding the turmoil surging behind his eyes.

As they were eating breakfast, the butler walked in carrying a stack of letters and newspapers, setting them respectfully at the corner of the dining table.

"Sir, Madam, today's mail."

Ji Mian's gaze drifted over the stack. Most were beautifully printed invitations and bills. But on top, there was one out of place—a kraft paper envelope.

The envelope was cheap, its edges even a little frayed, with a line printed on it: To Young Master Ji Mian, Personal.

No return address. The postmark was blurred and illegible.

Ji Mian's heart skipped a beat. A sense of dread, like icy vines, instantly coiled around his spine.

"What's this?" His elder brother Ji Yuanzhou also noticed, frowning as he reached out to take it.

"Brother!" Ji Mian instinctively pressed the letter down, his movement so fast it even startled himself.

Ji Yuanzhou raised an eyebrow, his gaze carrying a hint of scrutiny.

Ji Mian's palms were already sweating. He forced a calm smile: "It might… might be a prank from a classmate. I'll look at it in my room."

He quickly stuffed the letter into his pocket, his heart pounding like a wild drum in his chest.

Wen Shuya didn't think much of it. She simply urged, "Eat quickly, it'll get cold."

Ji Mian mumbled a reply, choking down the rest of his breakfast, and practically fled to his room.

The moment the door locked, all the strength seemed to drain from his body. He slid down against the door panel, sitting on the floor. With trembling hands, he pulled out the kraft paper envelope.

The envelope was thin, seeming to contain only a piece of paper.

Ji Mian took a deep breath, his fingertips white from the pressure. He tore open the seal and tipped the contents into his palm.

It wasn't a letter. It was a photograph.

The background of the photo seemed to be a shabby rented room, dimly lit. The camera was focused on a silver lock resting on a tabletop.

It was a Longevity Lock, old in design, the silver surface already tarnished black, engraved with intricate auspicious cloud patterns. At the center was a blurred character: "安" (peace).

Ji Mian's pupils contracted sharply. His breath stopped completely in that moment.

This lock…

It was exactly the same as the one Cheng Yan had taken from his neck in his dream.

A wave of cold surged from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, turning his whole body icy, his blood seemingly frozen. He stared fixedly at the photo, his mind buzzing.

This was no coincidence.

No, not at all.

He flipped the photo over abruptly. On the back, in the same printed font, was a line of small text:

"Want to keep your wealthy life, Young Master Ji? Tomorrow at three in the afternoon, Binjiang construction site in the north of the city. Come alone. — Lin Shao"

Lin Shao.

The name exploded like a thunderclap in Ji Mian's mind.

Lin Shao was the son of a former maid at the Ji family's house. The maid had been fired for being light-fingered. Ji Mian had some memory of her. He remembered Lin Shao was a few years older than him, always watching him with a gloomy look, like a rat hiding in the dark.

So it was him. What did he know? How did he get a photo of this Longevity Lock?

Countless questions exploded in his mind, only to be crushed by an even more terrifying thought—his prophetic dreams were not prophecies at all.

But someone was, step by step, turning the scenes from his dreams into reality.

Lin Shao was the first step. Using this Longevity Lock as a calling card, he was luring him to that place called "Binjiang construction site." And that was exactly where Cheng Yan worked.

This was a trap. A trap tailor-made for him, leading straight to his ruin.

A wave of immense fear drowned Ji Mian like a flood. He curled up behind the door, hugging his knees, his body trembling uncontrollably.

What should he do?

Tell Ji Yuanzhou? No. He couldn't. His elder brother was cold to the point of being ruthless. Once he realized this matter could threaten the Ji family's reputation, he would be the first to unhesitatingly dispose of "trouble." And he himself was the biggest trouble.

Tell Wen Shuya? Even worse. How could he bear to use such a brutal truth to hurt the person who loved him most in this world?

There was no one he could rely on.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. A bank message about a payment. The antique wristwatch he had bid on at auction last week—the payment went through today. Twelve million—a string of digits he once couldn't even comprehend.

But now, that string of numbers felt like a cold slap across his face.

Soon, none of this would belong to him anymore.

No.

It couldn't end like this.

Ji Mian raised his head abruptly. The fear and confusion in his eyes faded, replaced by a ferocity born of desperation.

He wouldn't wait for Lin Shao to bring the evidence to the Ji family, wouldn't wait for Cheng Yan to come back and stomp him into the mud like in his dream.

He had been born in this gilded cage. He didn't know how to fly. Away from here, he couldn't survive.

Since this was a trap, he would walk right into it. Before the curtain fully rose, he would drag out the one pulling the strings.

Lin Shao was just a beginning, a messenger. The true center of the storm was Cheng Yan.

That Longevity Lock must have something to do with Cheng Yan. Perhaps it was the key token proving his identity. Lin Shao wanted to use it for blackmail, and that, precisely, gave him an opportunity.

An opportunity… to get his hands on the evidence first and destroy it completely.

Ji Mian gripped the door panel, standing up shakily. He walked to his desk, put the photo and envelope away, and hid them in the deepest part of the drawer.

He looked at the pale, delicate face in the mirror—a face written with panic—and slowly twisted it into a cold, humorless smile.

A pampered canary, backed to the edge of a cliff, would also bare its claws.

He took out his phone and pulled up the contact he only dared to look at late at night. The profile picture was gray, with a single solitary word: "Yan."

He didn't have Cheng Yan's contact information; this WeChat ID was something he had gotten with great effort from a small company that did business with the construction site. He had never dared to add it.

But now, he had no way back.

He had to go to the Binjiang construction site.

No, he couldn't wait until tomorrow afternoon. He couldn't wait that long. He had to go now. He needed to get to Cheng Yan before Lin Shao did, to find out about the Longevity Lock.

Ji Mian changed into the most ordinary casual clothes, put on a cap and a mask, covering himself from head to toe. He stood at the door, taking one last look at his room, splendid as a palace.

From today on, he would personally step into that muddy ground he had never set foot on, to hunt the beast that coveted everything he had.

Either he would take back his fate. Or he would be torn to pieces.