Lu Family Mansion, 20:00;
Eight hours. It had been more than eight agonizing hours since Rong Xinghe had locked herself away in her bedroom—shutting the world out. Shutting her family out.
Not her Six Tigers. Not her sisters-in-law. Not a soul.
She couldn't bear for anyone to see her like this—splintered and raw.
Within the walls of that silent room, her pain had taken shape—no longer an emotion but a living, breathing force. It coiled around her like a serpent, squeezing, suffocating.
And the most terrifying part? She welcomed it. She wanted to drown in it. To suffer.
To bleed quietly for having broken the heart of the man who had loved her.
She deserved this torment.
It had become almost mechanical now—a ritual of grief.
Clawing at the sheets. Burying her face into the softness of pillows that once smelled like comfort. Letting the tears soak into them, muffled and unseen. Slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake in fresh waves of sorrow.
