News Anchor (V.O.):
Breaking news—twenty-eight-year-old tech prodigy Xi Lu has officially become the richest person in the world, surpassing Elon Musk with a staggering net worth of $595 billion, making him the youngest billionaire in history to hold the top spot.
(A sleek glass office overlooking a glowing city skyline.)
Secretary Yu:
Congratulations, Boss, on becoming the richest person in the world.
Xi Lu (calm, distant):
Thank you, Secretary Yu.
Give everyone in the company a bonus.
And prepare a car for me.
Secretary Yu:
Yes, Boss.
(Xi Lu walks out. Employees whisper. Cameras flash. He doesn't look back.)
(Inside the car.)
Xi Lu:
Flower shop.
(Neon lights blur past the window. The car stops outside a small, quiet shop.)
(Inside the flower shop.)
Shopkeeper:
Good evening, sir.
Xi Lu:
I want all the pink roses you have.
(The shopkeeper hesitates, surprised.)
Shopkeeper:
That will be 2,540.
(Xi Lu hands over a 10,000 bill.)
Xi Lu:
Keep the change.
(He takes the roses and leaves.)
(Back inside the car. The roses rest on his lap.)
Xi Lu (softly):
Home.
(The car enters massive iron gates. A silent mansion emerges from the darkness.)
(Inside the mansion.)
The house is immaculate.
Too immaculate.
No photos.
No laughter.
No warmth.
Staff bow as he passes. No one speaks.
(A hallway lined with soft lights.)
He stops before a locked door.
Unlocks it.
(Inside: a small memorial room.)
Two framed photographs on a table.
His parents.
A clock on the wall is frozen at 11:47 PM.
Today's date is circled on a calendar.
Xi Lu places one pink rose beneath their pictures.
He closes his eyes for a moment.
Nothing comes.
(Another door.)
He opens it.
(A dim bedroom shrine.)
A framed photograph of a young woman smiling gently.
Dried pink roses fill a glass vase.
Xi Lu replaces them with the fresh ones.
He straightens the frame.
His fingers linger.
Xi Lu (whispering):
I'm sorry.
(He steps back. His gaze drifts to a drawer.)
He opens it.
Inside:
A single photograph of another woman.
Her smile is brighter.
Her eyes are alive.
His breath tightens.
He stares longer at this photo than any other.
He does not touch it.
He does not move it.
He simply closes the drawer.
(Xi Lu walks to the window.)
City lights shimmer in the distance like water in a desert.
He reaches for a glass on the table.
It is empty.
He had become the richest man in the world that morning.
And the poorest man in love that night.