In that cramped and decaying study, Zhao Guodong paced frantically, like a beast trapped in a desperate situation.
The dim yellow chandelier above his head swayed slightly with his hurried footsteps, casting flickering shadows on the wall, much like his chaotic state of mind.
Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead like broken beads, tracing his face contorted with tension, slid down his stubble-covered chin, and soaked the collar of his once crisp shirt, leaving dark stains.
The news of the deputy director being taken away was like a powerful bombshell, causing a huge uproar in his previously calm mind.
His breathing became rapid and heavy, each breath seeming to drain all his strength.
His eyes were bloodshot, revealing an unprecedented fear and panic, like a frightened bird, constantly on guard against impending doom.
He knew perfectly well that this was perhaps just the first domino to fall in a chain reaction.
His meticulously planned and orchestrated scheme, which he had laid out over many years, is now facing an unprecedented crisis of destruction.
Once this plan is completely exposed, what awaits him is a disgraceful and irredeemable abyss.
Everything he has painstakingly built up—wealth, status, reputation—will shatter in an instant, like a bubble.
Zhao Guodong suddenly rushed towards the heavy safe in the corner, his hands trembling uncontrollably, his fingertips turning white.
The password numbers flashed and jumped around in his panicked mind, and he entered them wrong several times.
Each error message sounded like a heavy hammer blow to his heart.
After finally getting the input correct, the safe door slowly opened with a dull "click," releasing a musty smell.
He eagerly reached in and took out stacks of documents neatly bound in kraft paper.
These documents, page by page, record his shameful crimes and serve as irrefutable evidence of his evil deeds.
The words on the document now seemed to have turned into hideous grotesque faces, mocking his greed and folly.
He shoved the documents into the prepared suitcase as if he had gone mad, his movements rough and urgent.
The paper rustled as he pulled it, as if groaning in pain. More sweat beaded on his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto the documents, soaking the incriminating records.
He felt as if he would be devoured by demons and plunged into an abyss of no return if he were a second later.
After stuffing the documents in, he quickly took out his phone, his fingers swiping rapidly across the screen, his fingernails making a soft sound as they rubbed against the screen.
His eyes were filled with anxiety and fear as he dialed one familiar yet unfamiliar number after another.
Each number was a link in his chain of crimes, but now it has become his last straw in his attempt to salvage the situation.
The moment the call connected, he lowered his voice and growled at the person on the other end: "Listen, the plan has failed! Cut off all contact immediately, don't let anyone find any evidence against you! If anything goes wrong, no one will get away with it!"
The voice was filled with hysterical madness, like the desperate roar of a wounded beast making a last-ditch effort to survive.
After hanging up the phone, he seemed to suddenly remember some fatal flaw, a look of fear flashing in his eyes. He quickly tapped the screen, deleting the call log one by one, each tap accompanied by his violent heartbeat.
He only breathed a slight sigh of relief when the phone call history page was completely blank, but his eyes were still full of fear and determination, as if the gloom that lingered in his heart after the storm could not be dispelled for a long time.
Meanwhile, in the Xia family's spacious and bright yet oppressive living room, time seemed to stand still.
The air was so heavy it felt like it could drip water, making it suffocating.
The light cast by the crystal chandelier seemed particularly cold and devoid of warmth at this moment.
Xia Wan was dressed in a smart business suit. The tailored cut accentuated her tall figure. Her high heels clattered rapidly on the polished marble floor, echoing the frantic beating of her heart.
She would stop every now and then, her eyes anxiously fixed on the doorway, which seemed like an insurmountable barrier, blocking her from her aunt's care and concern.
The unease in her heart grew wildly like weeds, becoming increasingly intense, almost threatening to devour her.
"Grandpa, why isn't Auntie back yet? It's so late, I hope nothing bad has happened to her?" Xia Wan asked again, her voice filled with undisguised anxiety and worry, her tone even trembling slightly.
Her eyes were filled with worry, and her gaze toward Xia Xiong held a hint of expectation, hoping to find some comfort and hope from her grandfather.
Xia Xiong sat on the antique leather sofa, the leather of which looked somewhat mottled from the wear and tear of time.
His brows were furrowed into a deep frown, the wrinkles between his brows seeming to be etched with the vicissitudes of time.
My hands unconsciously gripped the sofa armrests tightly, my knuckles turning white from the excessive force, as if this would allow me to grasp a sliver of hope and hold onto everything that was about to be lost.
"Don't worry, Wanwan, wait a little longer. Maybe Shuhua is stuck in traffic or something urgent has come up."
Although he comforted his granddaughter with these words, the worry in his weathered eyes grew heavier, like the gloom before a storm, weighing heavily on his heart.
His gaze drifted through the window to the dark night sky, and he silently prayed for his daughter's safe return.
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