On the night of her twentieth birthday, a car accident engulfed Wen Tang in a sea of flames. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself at an ancient temple shrouded in mist and rain, seven years in the future. Her appearance remained unchanged, but the young man who once nestled against her neck, his eyes reddened as he begged for a kiss, had become a powerful business tycoon who silently counted his Buddhist prayer beads, a man no one dared approach. Everyone said Liang Yanjin was detached from worldly desires. Only Wen Tang knew how scorching his breath felt against the side of her neck, and how, whenever she pulled away even slightly, he would stop kissing her, rest his forehead against hers, and whisper in a hoarse voice: "Wife, please, don't push me away."