He walked to a tea table carved from a huge tree root in the center of the greenhouse, sat casually on the carpet, and leaned his back against the cold root sculpture.
He casually pulled out a bottle of unlabeled amber liquid from a built-in constant-temperature wine cabinet next to him, pulled out the cork, and took a big gulp directly from the bottle mouth.
The pungent, burning liquid rolled down his throat, instantly igniting his chest. He closed his eyes, his Adam's apple rolled, and he let out a suppressed, low gasp like a wounded beast.
The warmth of the greenhouse enveloped him, but it could not dispel the biting coldness in his heart.
Ning Yunmeng's crazy and desperate face, the Ning family's cold and disgusted eyes, and... Qin Yuzheng's eyes that were always calm, as if they penetrated him and fell into nothingness... repeatedly intertwined in his confused mind.
He was like a complete madman, performing a grand and bloody drama just to win a glance from the only audience, even a frown.
But that audience...always sat on a high altar, looking down indifferently, unmoved.
"Heh..." He chuckled self-deprecatingly and took another swig of wine. The spicy taste burned his throat, bringing a kind of almost self-torturing pleasure.
He curled up his long legs and rested his chin on his knees. His beautiful phoenix eyes stared blankly at a certain point in the void in the dim light, like a lonely bird drenched by the rain and unable to find its way home.
After an unknown amount of time, the heavy glass door of the greenhouse was pushed open silently.
Qin Yuzheng walked in. He had changed out of his outer coat and sweater and was wearing only a soft and comfortable dark grey cashmere cardigan, the collar of which was casually open, revealing his white cotton T-shirt and a small section of his cool white collarbone.
He was holding a tray with a bone china cup on it, which was steaming.
He walked steadily, his tall figure moving through the lush vegetation and mottled light and shadow, like a lion patrolling his territory, with a silent control.
He walked to the tea table and his eyes fell on Qin Yuheng, who was curled up beside the tree roots, holding a bottle of wine, with a hazy and distracted look in his eyes.
The dim light outlined the brother's slightly thin shoulders and the distraught profile. The usually unrestrained aura had disappeared completely, leaving only a fragile, abandoned loneliness.
Qin Yuzheng paused. Deep eyes stared at him quietly in the dim light, like silent stars in a cold night.
The air in the greenhouse seemed to be frozen, leaving only the faint sound of water vapor evaporating from the plants.
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