Mu Yan pushed open the bedroom door; the room was extremely dark, with both layers of curtains drawn, not a hint of daylight.
She flipped the light switch, and the room instantly became bright.
The bed covers were somewhat messy, left untidied, with shards of glass on the floor, to be precise, they were broken pieces of a goblet; even the bedside lamp was shattered on the floor, in fragments.
On the bedside table, there were several wine bottles, empty, the wine entirely consumed.
The room was suffocating, and standing there just for a moment, Mu Yan felt discomfort in breathing.
She had lived in this room for so long, it was the first time it felt unfamiliar.
A picture suddenly flashed in her mind, a man agitatedly drinking wine, one sip after another, venting, when emotions reached their peak, he smashed the glass on the ground, hurling things by his side to the floor.
She closed her eyes, caressing her head, suppressing those images from appearing.
