Zhang Yixing's gaze followed the closed door, his expression complex.

He understood Ou Yangguang's feelings at that moment, a mixture of anger at being misunderstood, exhaustion after fighting, regret after conflict with his companions, and loneliness from not being understood.

Any comfort or advice at this moment is likely futile, or even a source of pressure.

He needs space, he needs to lick his wounds alone.

Looking into Zhang Yixing's eyes, Kim Junmyeon understood what he hadn't said. He struggled for a moment, then finally lowered his arm dejectedly, sighed heavily, and rubbed his temples.

The dormitory fell into a helpless silence once again.

That night, no one in EXO's dorm was destined to have a peaceful night.

Meanwhile, Ou Yangguang had already mounted his motorcycle, the engine emitting a deep roar that was particularly jarring in the quiet night streets.

He had no destination; he simply twisted the throttle to the floor, and the motorcycle shot into the Seoul night like an arrow.

The icy night wind lashed at his body like a knife, penetrating his thin clothing and attempting to freeze his blood and mind.

But he felt nothing. He simply lowered his body and increased his speed, as if he wanted to leave all his anger, grievances, resentment, and confusion behind in the howling wind.

The streetlights stretched into long ribbons of light, and the city's neon lights blurred into a chaotic mess of colors at breakneck speed.

He wasn't thinking about anything, just chasing the brief moments of emptiness brought by speed, until his hands and feet were numb from the cold wind and his heart was pounding heavily in his chest. Only then did he subconsciously drive the car in one direction: to the apartment he rarely went back to.

"Click." The door unlocked, revealing a dark and cold empty apartment, devoid of any human presence.

He slammed the door shut behind him, leaned against the cold door panel, and slowly slid down, eventually collapsing onto the carpet in the center of the living room, and then onto the sofa.

His hat lay to the side as he lay on his back, staring wide-eyed at the blurry, dark outline on the ceiling, his mind blank.

The lights were off, and the heating was off.

A chilling cold seeped in from all directions, wrapping around him and invading his limbs and bones.

He lay there motionless, like a lifeless sculpture, feeling his body grow colder and colder until his fingertips went numb, his lips lost their color, and even his thoughts seemed frozen.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a violent, uncontrollable chill brought him back to his senses.

He propped himself up on his arms and looked around at the dark space that belonged to him but was incredibly cold. An indescribable sense of loneliness overwhelmed him like a tide.

He fumbled for the remote and turned on the heater. The vents began to blow out a weak stream of warm air, emitting a low hum as they tried to dispel the chill in the room.

Then, he went into the bathroom, turned on the light, took off his clothes, and turned on the shower.

The warm water poured down instantly, wetting his hair, cheeks, and body.

He leaned against the cold tiled wall, letting the water wash over his body, feeling his body temperature gradually rise, and the emotions still frozen beneath his skin.

The steam in the bathroom blurred the mirror and any trace that might be on his face.

The warm water continued to wash over my body, and the bathroom was filled with thick steam, almost suffocating me.

Ou Yang closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cold tiles, trying to clear his chaotic thoughts.

But what kept replaying in his mind were the sharp words in the dormitory, the fierce look in Kris Wu's eyes when he grabbed his collar, and the uncontrollable anger when he threw a punch.

Just then, a faint but persistent doorbell rang, penetrating the sound of running water and the soundproofing of the bathroom, stubbornly drilling into his ears.