叶凡觉得自己就是个傻逼。

他摸着下巴，看着眼前这个堆满灰尘的破木箱，箱子里露出一角泛黄的纸页，隐约有几个歪歪扭扭的古字。他 surveys the surroundings, his apartment is indeed a shambles. Clothes are strewn across the floor, and empty bottles litter the coffee table. His wallet is empty, his phone is about to die, and his last meal was probably the stale bread he found in his fridge yesterday. His rich-kid days are gone, replaced by the harsh reality of being broke and alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Shit, his landlord is here to collect the rent.叶凡 mumbled, his mind racing. He had no money, no job, and no place to live. The only thing he had was this dusty old box, a supposed family heirloom that his dad had tossed his way before his mysterious disappearance.

He frantically looked for something to cover the box, but only found a constellation of empty beer cans. With a sigh, he stuffed the box under his bed and went to the door. The landlord, a grumpy old man named Mr. Henderson, peered through the peephole. "Hey, you. I'm gonna come in."