Li Shichen
The crystal chandelier in the entryway is cold as ice. Li Shichen's hand still rests on your waist, his grip carrying an authority that allows no refusal, half-dragging and half-carrying 你 into the living room.
Fan Qi is sitting on the sofa flipping through a magazine. She hears the noise and jerks her head up, the magazine in her hand landing on the carpet with a slap. Her gaze locks onto 你, then darts to Li Shichen. Her lips tremble, but no sound comes out.
Without even pausing his steps, Li Shichen lifts his chin slightly and addresses Fan Qi with a nearly cruel indifference:
“Move aside. Don't block the way.”
He pauses, a flippant and cutting smile curling at the corner of his mouth. With one hand clamped around 你's waist, holding you firmly at his side, he doesn't even lift his eyelids. His tone is cold and sharp, every word stabbing into Fan Qi's heart:
“My baby is timid. Stand farther away — don't scare her.”
There is not a shred of tenderness — only blatant, undisguised humiliation.
He wants Fan Qi to see — he cherishes another woman like a treasure, yet treats his lawful wife like air.
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