Shoutout to nyanmaru for the commission!
The image of a bullet piercing through the air, decisively shattering a skull, flashed before Gu Huai’s eyes, blood splattering everywhere. His legs gave out unexpectedly.
Cold sweat broke out all over Gu Huai, and after a few steps, he stumbled, his body pitching forward before he collapsed to the ground.
One of the police officers quickly caught him, and seeing Gu Huai’s dazed expression, couldn’t help but roughly push him. “Move it, don’t waste time.”
Gu Huai was stunned, his eyes blank and lifeless. After being dragged for a few steps, he stopped moving entirely.
“Hey, what’s wrong with him? He looks like he’s lost his mind.”
The leader of the police team frowned and said in a low voice, “He’s probably in shock. You two, help carry him.”
The other two officers looked reluctant, but they followed the order.
“Captain Zhou, this kid is charged with attempted murder. Is it really serious enough for the death penalty?”
“The Criminal Law, Article 232, states that intentional homicide is punishable by death, life imprisonment, or a fixed-term imprisonment of no less than ten years. I’ve reviewed his case, and it’s classified as particularly severe.”
“But the victim only got a broken leg and is in the hospital. Doesn’t seem like a death penalty case.”
“That depends on how the judge rules.”
Their footsteps echoed as they walked away, and after the sound of the car engine starting, the group soon drove off in the police car.
The surroundings gradually became quiet.
Inside the large villa, there was only one person left, standing alone.
The man was silent, standing at the door for a long time without moving. He kept his head down, staring at the cold floor, his eyes dark and unfathomable, like a deep abyss.
“You’ve always been in love with Ye Mu.”
It was just a casual remark from the other party, possibly out of revenge, frustration, or simply to confuse him. But for some reason, it kept replaying in his ears.
His thoughts were tangled like countless threads, suffocating him, making each breath feel like a struggle.
Yan Chen’s fair, handsome face was clouded with irritation. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of red alcohol from the cabinet, and poured himself a glass.
The liquid lingered on his tongue, then slid down his throat, leaving a bitter taste. It wasn’t particularly good, but he kept sipping, as if trying to numb himself.
The winter wind howled outside, and the door to the underground alcohol cellar creaked open and shut repeatedly, making a haunting sound.
Yan Chen narrowed his long, slender eyes. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he felt compelled to head down the stairs, holding onto the railing for support.
After that person left, Gu Huai had renovated the place entirely. All the old furniture and walls were gone, except for the alcohol cellar, which had remained untouched.
No one had visited the cellar in a long time, and dust covered everything, making his eyes water.
He coughed a few times and, in a half-dazed state, pushed the door open.
In the moonlight, he could see shelves lined with red alcohol from various countries and years. In the corner, there was a large glass tank filled with fragrant alcohol.
Yan Chen felt dizzy, like he could collapse at any moment. But he forced himself to walk over, opened the spout, and poured himself a glass.
He had already drunk a lot of alcohol, so his taste buds should have been numb. But as he sipped the alcohol from the glass tank, he found it surprisingly rich and flavorful.
With the familiar taste came a flood of memories.
He vaguely remembered a slender, gentle man waiting for him at the school gate, hesitant to approach.
Yan Chen had walked past him coldly, pretending not to notice.
“Wait, Yan Chen.”
He had glanced at the man and replied indifferently, “What is it?”
“I recently made a bottle of homemade red alcohol. An upperclassman told me you like this kind of alcohol. Would you mind trying it?”
Yan Chen had frowned slightly, glancing at the bottle in the man’s hand, and then took it, tasting it without much interest.
“How is it?” The man had a delicate, refined look, with dark eyes that held a calm, reserved expression. The summer breeze played with his soft hair, making him look especially appealing.
Yan Chen’s heart had skipped a beat, but he had pushed the feeling away and, with a hint of disdain, said, “It’s awful.”
The man’s eyes had dimmed, and he silently took back the bottle and walked away.
Yan Chen had pursed his lips, and for some reason, called after him, “Hey, I’m going to a bar later. Want to come?”
The man’s steps had faltered, and after a moment of hesitation, he had turned around, looking at Yan Chen with uncertainty. After a long pause, he had replied in a deep, magnetic voice, “…Okay.”
Yan Chen had simply nodded, saying nothing more as he walked ahead.
It seemed that from that day on, the man had kept coming to him with various excuses to taste alcohol. Yan Chen had known the man’s intentions but had allowed it to continue.
He had always wanted to tell the man that the homemade alcohol was delicious, sweeter than any Lafite, but he had been picky, just to give the man more reasons to seek him out.
He had cherished every moment the man had spent thinking about him, remembered the hopeful look on his face each time, and secretly, with a tenderness he hadn’t realized, had smiled at the man’s occasional disappointment.
But unfortunately, the man’s cool gaze, fair skin, and soft hair in the sunlight were all part of a past that could never be reclaimed.
Yan Chen’s eyes flickered with a vague confusion, as if he were truly drunk. He swayed slightly, then suddenly fell to the floor with a thud.
The pain brought a brief moment of clarity. As he opened his eyes, he noticed something written on the bottom of the glass tank: “For my dearest Yan Chen.”
It meant that the entire tank of alcohol had been made just for him.
“Dearest?” Yan Chen lay on the cold stone floor, chewing on the word, a bitter regret flashing in his dark eyes.
His brows furrowed deeply as he curled up in a corner, reeking of alcohol, and fell into a deep sleep.
For the next three or four days, he didn’t go anywhere. Like a caged beast, he locked himself in the dark, cramped alcohol cellar, drinking until he passed out, then waking up to drink again.
No one would have imagined that the powerful CEO of LOTTO Corporation would fall into such a state of despair.
He had turned off his phone, completely immersing himself in a cycle of self-destruction. He didn’t want to acknowledge or face the truth.
If alcohol could erase all memories, that would be wonderful. Then he wouldn’t be so lost and in pain.
Yan Chen wasn’t sure if he truly loved Ye Mu, but he knew that since that person left, his life had become lonely, monotonous, and dull. He often found himself missing that person, longing for his company, wishing he were by his side.
Even a simple text message or email could brighten his mood, which had been gloomy all day.
He missed him so much, desperately. Was this love? He didn’t know. He really didn’t know. Who could give him an answer?
Yan Chen continued to lie among the alcohol bottles, drunk for five days and nights. His stubble had grown out, his eyes were deeply sunken, with dark circles under them, and his hair was a disheveled mess. He no longer resembled the handsome, elegant man he once was.
Suddenly, the house phone in the living room rang loudly. The only person who had this number was his father.
Yan Chen wiped his face and staggered to the sofa, kneeling beside it as he picked up the phone.
“Dad.” His voice was low and hoarse, like something tearing apart, unpleasant to hear.
“What are you doing?! The company is in chaos right now, so many documents waiting for your approval, and where have you been? If you don’t want to work on the Song project, just cancel the contract! Old Song keeps calling and bothering me. Did you hear a word I just said?”
On the other end of the line, Yan Henan was practically gnashing his teeth, his forehead veins bulging.
Yan Chen swallowed hard, pressing his lips together to soften his voice. “Dad, I’m visiting someone in the hospital today. I’ll return to the company tomorrow.”
Yan Henan’s face was grim. “What could be more important than the company? Do you know how much the company loses for each day you’re absent?”
Yan Chen, exhausted, closed his eyes. “That’s enough. I’m very tired. If there’s something urgent, let me finish looking at this first.”
Yan Henan frowned and was about to say something when the call was abruptly cut off with a snap. He angrily slammed his teacup.
That unfilial son!
