I have to talk about the hospital scene because the author really knows how to paint a picture. You've got this sterile, fluorescent-lit ward with a middle-aged woman lying emaciated on the bed—uremia, the name Wang Yulan on the chart—and then Shen Xinhe standing beside her, beautiful and tearful, explaining that she lied for money because her aunt needed a kidney transplant. The visual contrast is stunning: the sick, sallow woman in the bed versus the glowing, ethereal beauty of Shen Xinhe. It's almost cinematic the way the camera (I mean, the prose) pans from Gu Cheng'an's face to the patient's name, and Sheng Xia following his gaze, waiting for some spark of romance between him and the female lead.
And then there's the revolving restaurant mentioned earlier, where this whole incident with Lu Xiaoxiao supposedly happened. The author doesn't give us a full description but the implication is there—a high-end, somewhat isolated setting where a push and a fall could look like an attack. The Lu family's Old Madam arriving at the hospital, demanding justice, the witness Shen Xinhe already installed in a hospital room (suspicious, right?)—all of this builds a world where wealth and power can bend reality, where a wealthy family can manufacture witnesses and pressure hospitals.
The orchid scene at the end, with Shen Jingze driving that limited-edition Aston Martin, opening the door for Sheng Xia like some kind of gentleman from a romance novel—that's a whole different aesthetic. Luxury cars, rare flowers, private residences. The world of this story is one where money isn't just background detail, it's the actual stage on which every conflict plays out. Every location tells you something about power and status.