Eight hours later, at 6:00 pm, the atmosphere within Chen Yulan's quarters at the Dragon Pearl Banquet Hall is a stark, silent contrast to the earlier tension.
The room, once a sanctuary of elegance, now mirrors the aftermath of a tempest.
Amidst the turmoil, a woman sits on the bed, her figure small and defeated.
The quilt she clings to offers scant comfort against the scratches and marks that mar her skin, hidden just below the neck.
Her lips, swollen and bruised, tremble as she whispers fragments of broken thoughts, her voice a fragile echo of her inner confusion. "...Why... Wei... Why this way..."
The bed, a chaotic jumble, bears the most painful symbol of the tragedy - a patch of red on the mattress, cruelly signifying the violent theft of her innocence.
The feathers from the torn pillows are scattered around her, like mute spectators to the injustice inflicted upon her.
