Wei limped inside the mansion, his knuckles white and phalanges aching. Rain trickled from his short hair onto the dark blue carpet embroidered with four golden dragons as he glared at the opulent hall.
Red cushions of exquisite quality, sewn by the village's best tailor, crowned wooden chairs carved from rare dark wood. Like the door, it came from the dangerous forest to the north, making this household the only one that owned such masterpieces.
Anger boiled in his veins when he saw the paintings of Min, his arm wrapped around Qiao's shoulder while she cradled a toddler, not the girl gripping his pants. How could it be when her parents wore those fine robes and jewellery? A year and two months, that's all it took them to replace her after...
He forced his thoughts aside, knowing he would fail to suppress his anger if he continued. It would blow up, though. He just needed the right opportunity.
