Ͳհҽ Ɱąժ Ҡìղց

21

Zhan stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a whiskey bottle from the cabinet. With trembling hands, he opened it and poured a glass. Gripping it tightly, he tilted his head back and drank deeply. The burning sensation as it traveled down his throat was not enough to dull the surge of anger that consumed him.

Deep down, he knew whiskey would not solve his problems. It was a temporary fix that provided temporary relief. But nothing worked. The betrayal of his mate left him hollow and betrayed. He trusted Wang with everything, yet he shattered that trust in a blink.

With a heavy heart, Zhan pulled out his phone from his pocket. The screen lit up, illuminating his face with an eerie glow. He scrolled through his gallery until he found a video and hit the send button.

With a defeated sigh, Zhan put down his phone and returned to his glass. The whiskey tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced himself to drink it, anyway. It was a minor act of defiance, an attempt to find solace in his pain.

With a simmering rage, Zhan knew he couldn't let Wang's betrayal go unanswered. He intended to make him feel the same pain he felt, and with that determination, he retreated to his room.

As Wang sat amidst the shattered glass, he didn't care anymore. Lost in his thoughts, his phone beeped, jolting him back to reality. He picked it up and saw a video message from Zhan.

A wave of nausea washed over Wang as he watched the video. His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, knowing that Zhan intended to make him feel the same pain he had inflicted. The sight of Xie being punched repeatedly was a brutal reminder of the consequences of his betrayal.

Wang messaged Zhan as panic surged through him. "Where are you?" But there was no response. Wang ran outside the room and knocked on every door, but none belonged to Zhan. Desperate for answers, he recalled what Cheng had mentioned earlier. "Don't provoke him, and don't argue with him," Cheng's words echoed in his mind. And he bit his tongue for questioning Zhan when he asked him to strip. Wang realized his actions had pushed Zhan to the edge, and now he feared for his safety.

Overwhelmed by guilt and fear, Wang sank to the corridor floor. Tears streamed down his face as he cried himself to sleep, hoping sleep would bring him respite from the turmoil inside.

Wang's phone vibrated and rang in his pocket, jolting him awake. As he fumbled to retrieve it, he felt the silky bedsheet on his body before opening his eyes. He was in a large, beautiful room, decorated nicely and smelled good. Confused, he wondered how he had gotten here before his phone rang again.

"Hello Grandma," Wang said, his voice still sleepy. As he answered the call.

"Good morning, my dear," she said, and Wang could hear her smile. "Zhan visited me this morning," she said, her voice warm. "He told me you stopped by to see him last night. I'm happy you want to give him a chance, my dear. It means the world to me."

"Yes, Grandma," Wang replied, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm willing to give him a chance." As he wiped away a stray tear, he couldn't bear to burden his grandmother with the truth of his pain and fear.

I trust Zhan to take care of you. We are getting ready to paint our house tomorrow. Zhan showed me pictures of interior decor, but I told him to do it like the house we visited in town. I know you loved it, she laughed.

"I am glad you are happy, Grandma," Wang said, his voice filled with relief. The door opened, and Zhan walked in with a tray of food. "I'll call you back, Grandma," Wang said, jumping out of bed.