I Can Turn Fake Things Into Reality
After his wife betrayed him and left his father to die, Ye Qiu gained a system that makes anything real. He rises from a poor worker to a trillion-dollar tycoon, takes revenge on his ex-wife and rival. They thought they destroyed him… but Ye Qiu’s ultimate revenge has only just begun.
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Marble Table, Moral Gray Zones
The rotating glass center—cold, reflective, indifferent—mirrors the characters’ shifting allegiances. Silverware gleams, but no one eats. They’re not dining; they’re negotiating identity. When the green-tie man adjusts his tie, it’s not vanity—it’s a reset button. *I Can Turn Fake Things Into Reality* turns etiquette into espionage. One wrong gesture, and the whole facade cracks. 🕊️
Phone Pulse = Plot Twist
A simple iPhone notification—'Mr. Ye appointed to WCC Board'—triggers blue particle waves, like reality itself is buffering. The pinstripe man smiles, but his pupils dilate. That’s not triumph; it’s confirmation. *I Can Turn Fake Things Into Reality* weaponizes tech not as gadgetry, but as a psychological detonator. The most dangerous dish? The one served via push notification. 💥
Dragonfly Brooch & Digital Glitch
That dragonfly pin on the pinstripe vest? A tiny symbol of control—until the phone screen flickers with holograms and the phrase 'Whether False Becomes True' appears. Suddenly, the luxury dining room feels like a prelude to sci-fi. The shift from whispered gossip to AI interface is jarring, brilliant. *I Can Turn Fake Things Into Reality* doesn’t just blur reality—it *reboots* it mid-course. 🔮
Laughter as a Weapon
Watch how the woman in purple covers her mouth—not out of shyness, but strategy. Her giggles sync with the blonde man’s smirk, while the pinstripe man crosses his arms like armor. Laughter here isn’t joy; it’s calibration. Every chuckle tests loyalty. In *I Can Turn Fake Things Into Reality*, even smiles are encrypted. The real question: who’s faking *less*? 😏
The Champagne Tension
Six elegantly dressed guests gather around a marble table—yet the real drama unfolds in micro-expressions. When the woman in black leans in to whisper, the blonde man’s eyes widen as if he just heard a corporate secret. The green-tie guy? Calm, but his finger-tap betrays impatience. This isn’t dinner—it’s a boardroom in disguise. *I Can Turn Fake Things Into Reality* thrives on these silent power plays. 🥂