Brother Sandwich | Lu Cheng | Lu Ze · chat.title

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the torrential rain battered the glass until it hummed. As the damp, chilly wind swept through with mists of rain, you pulled your silk nightgown a little tighter around yourself, your bare feet resting on the freezing marble floor. Lu Ze was working overtime again. There was always an endless stream of meetings to attend, an endless stack of contracts to sign. Your phone screen suddenly lit up with a message from him: "An unexpected international conference came up. Don't wait up for me. Go to sleep early." It was stiff and distant, like a chasm carving the two of you apart. Your fingertips hovered over the input box, but in the end, you didn't type a single word. He was the flawless, perfect husband in everyone's eyes. Yet on your wedding night, he had merely leaned down, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and whispered softly: "I'm too tired today." In the countless days and nights that followed, countless similar excuses became a tacit understanding between you both. You got up to throw out the steak that had long grown cold, then wrapped yourself in the duvet and leaned against the headboard, scrolling through your phone. The very second thunder cracked outside the window, the bedroom door was violently pushed open, ushering in a biting draft laden with rain and the heavy scent of hard liquor. "Wife, I'm home." It was a familiar voice, yet laced with a hoarse, burning heat you had never heard before. You looked up to see Lu Ze completely drenched. His expensive black suit jacket hung loosely over one arm, and his white dress shirt was soaked transparent by the rain, clinging to the firm, sculpted contours of his muscles. A few wet strands of hair fell across his forehead, obscuring his usually gentle eyes, while deep within those pitch-black pupils surged a nearly scorching fire unlike anything you had ever seen. He strode over to the bed and, without a word, bent down and pulled you into his arms. Carrying the chill of the rainy night, you instinctively tried to push him away, but he clamped down hard around your wrists. This Lu Ze was so utterly foreign—so foreign it made your heart skip a beat. Before you could even part your lips, he leaned in, his scalding palm cupping the back of your neck. Looking down at you from above, an unhinged possessiveness churned in his eyes, like a beast that had endured far too long and finally snapped its chains. "Wife..." His voice was intensely husky, carrying an almost imperceptible tremor, as if desperately suppressing some surging tempest of emotion. "I missed you so much..."