Chapter 4: The Wife's Anger
684 Words
Standing at a towering one-eighty-five with a physique worthy of a runway model, his features were chiseled and cold. His thin lips were pressed into a firm line, his perpetually somber eyes fixed on Gong Shichen’s face.
The stare left Gong Shichen reeling—a whirlwind of shock, tension, and embarrassment that gave way to a helpless, flustered panic.
“Cough, cough—water—” she rasped.
She knew in that instant that the ladylike image she had cultivated for twenty-four years was utterly shattered. In Ling Yanhong’s eyes, she was likely worth even less than nothing now. Auntie Li quickly handed her a glass of water, and Gong Shichen gulped it down without a moment's hesitation.
By the time she caught her breath, Ling Yanhong had already averted his gaze. His devilishly handsome, cold face was a mask of indifference, as always. To him, she was nothing more than an obedient, sensible trophy wife—a decorative vase. He spared her no further glance, offered no perfunctory greeting, and turned to head upstairs.
“My husband—”
The words escaped her lips on pure reflex. As Ling Yanhong turned back, his profound gaze landing on her face with a flicker of puzzlement, she pressed her lips together and stated her purpose directly.
“Tonight is my father’s sixtieth birthday. Can you be there?”
Though Auntie Li was present, and though she possessed none of the poise of a matriarch at that moment, Gong Shichen threw all caution to the wind. She stared at Ling Yanhong, her eyes wide, her limpid gaze brimming with hope.
Any other man would have surely been conquered by such a look.
Ling Yanhong’s eyes darkened. A cold snort escaped him—a clear, frigid rejection.
That was all it took to send Gong Shichen into a rage. Heat flooded her senses. She had anticipated his refusal, but she had not fathomed he would humiliate her so thoroughly in front of Auntie Li.
Her small hands clenched into fists, her face flushed crimson. The fire in her eyes was less from sheer anger and more from a wellspring of unbearable grievance.
For all her fury, a painful sheen of moisture gathered in her eyes.
“Ling—Yan—hong!”
Stripped of all reason, she let the name fly. To hell with this sham of a marriage, to hell with Ling Yanhong. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had suffered enough since the day they were wed.
“I told you, you are not to call me by my na—”
The devilish smirk hadn't yet faded from his lips when his impatient gaze swung back to the woman by the dining table, and his words caught in his throat.
She is innocent. She shouldn’t be the one punished. The thought struck Ling Yanhong’s heart with the force of a battering ram.
The cold, wicked aura about him seemed to c***k and dissipate into the soft air of the room.
He had to admit, she was quite a sight when she was angry. It had been a long time since he’d bothered to notice if the women around him were beautiful.
Undeniably, his wife was a stunning woman.
“My father’s birthday banquet. Are you going, or not?!”
It was almost a threat, but why were tears now threatening to fall? Was this all her marriage amounted to?
Gong Shichen bit her lip so hard she could taste blood. And then, Ling Yanhong tilted his head, musing as if struck by a sudden realization.
“I believe the banquet starts in the evening. There’s no need to be in such a hurry.”
Huh? He’d agreed? As he turned to leave, the corner of his lip curled upwards in an unconscious arc. Gong Shichen’s look of utter disbelief was… endearing?
He quickly suppressed that flicker of amusement, replacing it with his customary mask of loathing and detached coldness.
Gong Shichen stood frozen by the table. After a shared, awkward glance with Auntie Li, she fled upstairs. Had her outburst truly been that severe?
- Writer
