Chapter 90: Disappointment—A Madman
He was always a domineering man. Could he ever set aside his pride to truly see into her heart?
"Liang Xiaoluo!" Ye Tianlin bellowed, his face dark with fury.
Here he goes again, Xiaoluo thought. She had seen it coming—the inevitable storm of his anger directed at her. All she could do was endure it silently.
For the first time, she regretted loving Ye Tianlin.
This man was poison. Falling for him was like flying into the flames, destined to end in ruin.
To her surprise, Tianlin didn't vent all his anger on her. Instead, he turned away, his hand dropping from her face. With a furious kick, he sent a table crashing and began hurling whatever objects he could reach, shattering them into pieces.
Xiaoluo stood frozen, her face growing paler with each crash.
What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like a madman?
He was impossible to understand—a storm that changed direction without warning.
At this moment, wasn't she the one who had the right to be angry?
He had spent an entire day out with another woman, leaving her to force a smile and feign indifference. Was she supposed to enjoy this?
"Ye Tianlin, what are you even mad about? Can't we talk like normal people for once? Why do you always get angry for no reason, leaving me confused and hurt? Don't you realize how disappointing this is? How much it makes me lose faith in you?"
She swallowed the words she wanted to say next—that she regretted loving him. They were too cruel. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to wound him that way.
Tianlin turned to face her, his voice laced with mockery. "What? Regretting it now?"
"What?" Xiaoluo blinked, confused.
"Heh," he sneered. "Are you regretting falling in love with me?"
Xiaoluo couldn't believe his absurdity. Waving him off, she said, "Your mood is all over the place today. Let's talk when you've calmed down."
She turned to leave, but Tianlin yanked her back. Before she could react, his lips crashed onto hers.
"Mmph!" Xiaoluo was caught completely off guard, her hands pushing against his chest in protest.
She hated this—being used as an outlet for his anger.
"Stop it! Mmph!" she cried, struggling against him.
Her resistance only fueled Tianlin's wildness. His kiss deepened, suffocating her.
Desperate, Xiaoluo bit down hard on his lip. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
Tianlin finally let go, his fingers brushing his wounded lip. Crimson stained his fingertips, stark against his pale skin.
"I... I…" Xiaoluo stammered, horrified by what she'd done. Her hands flew to her mouth, trembling.
Tianlin chuckled coldly. "So, you really do regret it."
"No, Tianlin, that's not what I meant! I didn't—" Xiaoluo tried to explain, but the words failed her.
She didn't regret loving him. She hated his violence, hated the way he handled things. Why couldn't they solve problems through words instead of brute force?
"Enough," Tianlin snapped, his tone icy. "I suppose you'd rather be with someone else, wouldn't you?"
"What are you talking about?" Xiaoluo stared at him, bewildered.
But Tianlin didn't elaborate. He shoved her aside, his voice distant and cold. "Tonight, I'm going to the bar with Gu Lingzi. Don't wait up."
He raised his voice deliberately, ensuring she heard every word. He wanted her to know he was going out with another woman, just as he had endured the sight of her and Ye Tianqing laughing together in the garden.
If he had to suffer, so would she. Fair was fair.
Without another glance, Tianlin left, his parting words slicing through the air like a dagger.
Xiaoluo stood frozen. Was he serious? Or was this just a ploy to provoke her?
Unable to hold back, she ran after him. Reaching the top of the stairs, she saw him below, his arm wrapped around Gu Lingzi's waist. He turned his head and met her eyes, a smirk playing on his lips, before walking out the door.
So, he wasn't bluffing. He meant it.
Xiaoluo felt as if a thunderbolt had struck her. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor. How had things come to this? Just yesterday, they had been so in sync, sharing their feelings, dreaming of a future together.
And now? Everything had reverted. She was nothing more than the plaything he had paid for, a woman who relied on him for survival.
It was like waking from a dream, only to find the fairy tale was a lie. The prince never found Cinderella's glass slipper, and she returned to her life of misery.
"Xiaoluo, are you okay?"
Tianqing's voice broke through her despair. He rushed over, helping her to her feet.
Xiaoluo's eyes were hollow. She shook off his hand and walked away, a lifeless puppet heading to her room.
"Xiaoluo…" Tianqing reached out, wanting to stop her.
But she didn't respond, didn't even turn back. She shut herself in her room, retreating into her pain.
Tianqing clenched his fists, his heart twisting. Perhaps he cared too much for things that weren't his business. Yet he couldn't bring himself to ignore her suffering.
In her room, Xiaoluo felt as if a weight was crushing her chest. She couldn't breathe.
The night stretched endlessly. She cried until no more tears came, dozed fitfully, and woke from nightmares. It was as if she had fallen into a deep abyss, unable to claw her way out.
Would the night ever end?
When morning finally came, sunlight streamed through the window, casting a fragile glow on her. She felt as delicate as a sprout, barely clinging to life.
She lay still, her vacant eyes fixed on the ceiling.
The quiet was suffocating, as if nothing had happened.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She turned her head to look but didn't move to pick it up. It buzzed again. And again.
Finally, she reached for it. There were several picture messages.
Opening one, her breath caught in her throat. Her pupils dilated in shock.
The screen displayed intimate photos of a man and a woman—hugging, kissing, locked in passionate embraces. The man was Ye Tianlin. The woman, Gu Lingzi.
The phone slipped from her trembling hand, landing on the bed.
Even when the screen dimmed, the images remained burned into her mind.
Her lips curled into a bitter smile. Was this meant to mock her? To show her how pitiful and cheap her love for him was?
Her chest tightened, her throat ached. But no tears fell.
Had she cried too much? Or had she grown numb?