Lang Meng sat at the edge of her bed, her room bathed in the dim glow of the setting sun filtering through heavy curtains. The soft, pink light that would have normally given the room a peaceful ambiance only served to heighten the storm brewing inside her.
Her expression was sharp, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, her jaw clenched tight enough to make the muscles in her face twitch. She gripped her phone as though she could crush it into dust with sheer force, her knuckles whitening from the pressure.
The device, sleek and cool in her palm, bore the brunt of her frustration, its surface smudged from the many frantic calls she had made.
The name "Mr. Qin" lingered on the screen, cold and unresponsive, just like him. Every call, every desperate message she'd sent had been ignored. Her heart pounded with a mixture of fury and disbelief.
