As though it were a discordant note shattering a perfect melody, Han Ke Ming's rhetorical question hung heavily in the air. The meticulously constructed facade of composure he had been maintaining all day finally crumbling to dust as the imagined echo of Feng Tian's voice at the upcoming meeting filled his ears. He could practically hear her voice, dripping with that infuriatingly calm superiority as she exposed him to the board and the entire world.
Suddenly, a throbbing ache exploded behind his right eye, a familiar harbinger of a migraine. It intensified rapidly, transforming into a relentless pulsating that threatened to split his skull in two. Han Ke Ming stared at his trembling hand, watching as it escalate into a full-blown tremor. The tremors ran through his entire body, making him grip the edge of the table for support as he slowly reached for the decanter in front of him, his throat constricting with a desperate craving for the oblivion a single drink promised.
