Ning Sizhe [Shura Field | Divorce | Obsession] · Chat

On the top floor of the city's most prestigious Intercontinental Hotel, the air is filled with the scent of fir and faint agarwood, so quiet that you can even hear the faint hum of the central air conditioning. With a crisp "ding," the suffocating silence is shattered. The brass-carved elevator doors slide open, and the first thing to burst into view is Ning Sizhe’s handsome face, looking so cold it could frost over. His shirt collar is slightly open, and his usually meticulous silver-white short hair now hangs messily over his forehead. A terrifying blizzard roils in the depths of his eyes. Blood drips from the palm of his right hand, but he seems to have lost all sense of pain, staring intently at the door at the end of the hallway. The oppressive aura emanating from him drops the temperature inside the elevator car to the freezing point. "Calm down... Sizhe, don't be impulsive." Zhao Yun chases him out of the elevator, forehead covered in cold sweat, his voice even trembling slightly from a lack of confidence. "Those paparazzi are the best at catching shadows and making up stories. You know their ability to spin a tale from a photo. Maybe it's nothing; Sister-in-law probably... probably wouldn't..." Zhao Yun's voice grows quieter. Because he doesn't believe it himself. Recalling the crazy things you did in the past three years to force Ning Sizhe home—smashing cars, tearing up contracts, making a scene at the board of directors—if it were to force Ning Sizhe into a divorce, she would definitely be capable of such a "burn the bridge" move. Si Yehan's face is grim as he steps forward and grabs Ning Sizhe's arm. Feeling the body tensed like a piece of high-carbon steel that could snap at any moment, Si Yehan frowns deeply: "Sizhe! Regardless of the situation inside, this is a public place. Don't make it look too bad. If there's something to say, close the door and settle it." "That's right, Brother Sizhe..." Xu Anan follows hurriedly in high heels, her face full of worry, yet every word she says lands right on a landmine. "Sister-in-law might just have had too much to drink, or perhaps Best Actor Yan was kind enough to help her up here to rest. You must not hurt her, otherwise, if the media leaks it, Yu Sheng's stock price will be affected..." Ning Sizhe seems completely unable to hear the noise around him. He violently shakes off Si Yehan's hand, his leather shoes stepping on the thick cashmere carpet, every step feeling like it's trampling on everyone's nerves. Stopping before the double doors of Presidential Suite 8801, Ning Sizhe pauses. The door isn't closed tightly, leaving a slight crack. The dim, suggestive light from inside pierces through that thin slit like a sharp blade, stinging his eyes. Just as he is about to reach out and push the door, the voice coming from the room causes all of Ning Sizhe's movements to instantly freeze. "Big brother..." That is your voice. Soft, with a heavy nasal tone and a bit of a tipsy slur, like a kitten acting spoiled, or a plea after losing the whole world. "Don't you want me anymore? You said you wouldn't leave me... Take me away, anywhere is fine..." These few sentences, through the crack in the door, crash clearly into the ears of everyone in the hallway. Zhao Yun gasps, Si Yehan closes his eyes sharply, and Xu Anan bites her lower lip hard to keep herself from laughing out loud. As for Ning Sizhe, he stands frozen on the spot. The soft wall lamps in the corridor shine on him, but they cannot penetrate the abyss that has suddenly descended into his eyes. In these three years, he has heard her scream while smashing glasses, heard her hysterical curses, heard her sarcastic cold mockery, and even heard the "Hubby" she squeezed out of her throat recently just to disgust him. But he has never, ever heard her speak in this tone. That kind of extremely dependent, cautious, humble plea, as if offering her whole heart to the other person. That woman, his wife in name, who caused such chaos at home, is currently calling another man "Big Brother" and begging that man to take her away. At this moment, reason is completely submerged by overwhelming jealousy and panic. The string in his mind named "rationality" snaps without leaving a single echo. All his upbringing, pride, and the dignity of a well-matched marriage are torn into shreds. "BANG—!" A deafening roar. Ning Sizhe raises his leg and, with a ruthlessness intended to destroy everything, kicks the heavy solid wood door open. The door panel slams against the wall with a loud thud, making even the wallpaper on the wall shake. "You’ve certainly got a lot of nerve!" His voice is like a storm blowing from the depths of the Siberian ice plains, gritted between his teeth with a madness that is nearly out of control. "Stirring up trouble at home wasn't enough, you dare come out here to embarrass me?!" He strides into the room, his gaze like a barbed whip, fiercely sweeping across the center of the living room. Then, he sees a scene that makes his eyes feel like they are about to burst out. By the dim and suggestive floor lamp, Yan Wusheng is wearing an oversized white shirt, holding something in his hand. And the woman who, just a few hours ago, had thrown the divorce agreement in his face—you—is currently tightly wrapping her arms around Yan Wusheng's waist from behind. Her cheek is pressed against Yan Wusheng's back, their posture intimate without a single gap. Time seems to have been paused at this second. Ning Sizhe stands at the door, the blood from the palm of his right hand dripping, drip by drip, onto the expensive Persian carpet. He stares fixedly at those hands wrapped around someone else's waist, his pupils contracting violently, the violence churning in his chest like an impending volcanic eruption, even the surrounding air becoming extremely thin due to his rage.